Broken laptops suck.

Remember when I used to write here more than once a month? Yeah, me neither.

I go back to work in a week and a half. I can't believe it's already been 3 months. I'm really looking forward to going back to work, but I'm more than a little anxious about the logistics. Xtian recently started a new job (he wasn't looking for a new job but an old coworker called and offered him more money. Hooray!) which involves a lot of extra hours. And as we all know, my job certainly involves a large time commitment. So with both of us working insane hours, I have a feeling this transition will be a little rough.

Cory is still here and providing childcare for half the week. The rest of the week we'll be using the same daycare people. I really like the people, and the other kids. But by it's nature, it is chaotic. There are a lot of kids, and they all feed off each others' energy and by the end of the day, Warren is a complete basket case. Add a tiny baby to that equation, and I fear we're heading toward complete familial horror. And regardless, poor Cory is going to end up picking up a lot of slack.

It will all settle in eventually, but the adjustment period is sizing up to be BRUTAL.

Brief update on the kiddos: Warren is alternately the most hilarious, charming, delightful thing you've ever seen, and the most obnoxious little shit you can imagine. Mostly, he's a two-year-old. Right now, at least the good stuff outweighs the bad.

Lennox is killing me with cute. He laughs and smiles and coos and gurgles at me. For hours at a time. Of course, the fact that the kid sleeps like a champ and is happy to let me do whatever I need to all day, so long as he's in the room with me, really makes him seem even cuter.

I realize that we are all programmed to think our kids are cute. And yes, my children are freakin' adorable. I can also recognize that other peoples' children are also cute. But, is it just me, or are the number of less-than-cute babies on the rise? There have been a rash of awkward looking babies around lately. (Not anyone around here, of course. I wouldn't be so rude to write that if I thought anyone reading here had an ugly baby.) But, man does it make me feel smug to walk away from an unattractive-baby encounter and look at my kids, knowing they are much better than those sub-par kids.

Yes, I am that parent. So sue me.

Word is out...

Ok, at least my boss knows so it's time to tell.

We're having another baby. We don't know what kind of baby yet, nor will we find out until the thing emerges. I like the mystery and the kind of magic to it. I also really like that no one can start programming socially acceptable gender roles before the kid has a chance to figure out how to breath oxygen.

Due date is February 5, placing this kid squarely in the thick of our family swarm of birthdays. Ah well, you can't fight city hall, so may as well stop trying.

My pants officially don't fit, but just enough to be uncomfortable. So, pleasant.

I have to fly to Chicago this weekend for a work thing. And I can't imagine anything more comfortable than Chicago, in August. But that should be funsies, if nothing else. Though, I will miss Warren. He's really a kick in the ass right now.

He's learning words at a ridiculous pace. If you ask him who he is, he'll reply "I Wowwie" which is how he pronounces his name. Freakin' killer cute. He's also a climber, which is less cute. Like, when you put the coffee cup on the kitchen counter, only to find him on the counter 2 minutes later, trying to drink mama's coffee. I guess they have to learn shit eventually, I'm just not ready for it yet. he's like a whole person suddenly. Out of control.

Ok, that's it for me. I'll be back soon. I really won't have much else to do in Chicago for 3 days. I'm staying out by the Airport, which is also where the conference is. I hope I get to at least run out and see some stuff. What a waste, to get all the way to Chicago and miss all the stuff.

G'night y'all.

Babies are kind of buttheads.

Computer is still being difficult. I haven't had the time and energy at the same time to fix it. Warren is adorable, and says "Obama" which is hilarious. He has also decided that "mama" means cell phone. Bullshit. I call bullshit. Eventually he'll figure it out, but come on! It took him forever to say Mama, and now he calls the cell phone mama, Cory is Uncle, Xtian is Dada and he has no name for me. Jerk. I'm going to remember this and punish him soundly when he's old enough to care.

Hectic life, lots of work, in a really good way. I get to go to the bay area this weekend and hang with my sis and my dear friend Jen. Totally needed. Warren will be accompanying me, which will be fun and also a pain in the ass. Which is really the perfect way to describe parenthood.

Hopefully back in the swing here. Stay tuned...

Tired Mama

Having a kid is all about highs and lows. Low point: Monday morning, 1 am. Warren has been awake screaming bloody murder for the last 4 hours. Both parents are ready to leave him outside for good.

High Point: Cory woke up Monday morning (at a normal, decent hour) to find Warren had gotten himself up, done a few walk-throughs of the house, then settled down to quietly read a book outside Cory's bedroom, waiting politely for Cory to get up. If only he could make a couple of eggs and coffee, we wouldn't really be necessary any more.

Low point: Sleeping like complete shit because your kid keeps kicking you in the face and just can't settle down to SLEEP.

High Point: The kid wakes up so damn happy and smiley, and giving you hugs that you melt and can't be angry at him.

Babies know when you are ready to sell them on E-Bay. That's usually when they pull something out of the cute arsenal. Warren had to learn a new trick recently to keep from being thrown in the trash.
He's started doing a weird little shuffle, sidestepping thing that almost looks like the electric slide. We're now calling him Warren 2.0: all the charm of original Warren, but with added mobility.

Restful weekend: Accomplished!

Ahhhh. Even with a few minor irritations, this weekend was exactly what I needed. I had one community action meeting on Saturday, but aside from that, no commitments, no chores, no nothing. This morning, Warren woke up at 6:30 am, so I took him out to the living room to play while Xtian had himself a well deserved lie in. Warren and I played for a couple of hours, then he passed out cold on my shoulder. Shortly thereafter, Fiddy climbed onto my other shoulder. So, I watched Food Network since I was pinned to the couch anyway. I haven't had a good quiet napping/cuddle with Warren like that for months. It was just delightful. He never sits still these days, so it's rare I get to just sit and smell his baby goodness.

Man, do I want another one. But, we'll need to hold off for a while yet. Got to get some jobs and finances back on track (surprisingly, not that off-track so far *knock wood*) and my health insurance has to kick in before I can start thinking about that.

But, I just took a steaming hot bath and am ready to climb into bed at 8:30 on a Sunday night. Everything is all ready for me tomorrow, and it's time for another whiplash week!

Hope everyone else's weekend was exactly what they needed it to be.

Murphin'

Jen came up to visit this weekend, and it was just delightful. We sipped some rum, ate some food and made some sorbet. We're both food-lovin' ladies, who read cookbooks like they're novels and watch food network like it's porn. So, obviously a meal of stuffed shells with marinara and a bechemel were totally in order. For Xmas I got her David Lebovitz's ice cream recipe book. The darling brought it with her so we could drool, and I decided that every time I buy a food book for anyone else, I need to buy a copy for myself. But, that's called "Selfish."

Now that the holidays are over, I can relax a bit and hopefully have a few weekends of couch surfing to get back into my zone. Of course, in our family, the break doesn't last for long as the birthdays have already started. Everyone in my immediate family (except for Cory and my SIL Kate) have birthdays within a 3 month period. 8 birthdays in 3 months, with 4 of them occurring in one week. It's always totally hectic, but we end up with a whole lot of Aquarians in the same family, which is fun.

Warren continues to be a scheming machine, which is hilarious right now. It's very strange to me that he's a sentient human being who has ideas and thoughts. For the longest time, they're just a series of bodily functions and reactions. Then suddenly, he'll just stop what he's doing and walk into another room because he wanted to. Kind of magical on a really small scale. It's weird to think that soon he'll be having fully thought out reasons for doing things that he can verbalize. He'll be able to have conversations and motivations beyond "hungry". I keep exclaiming "It's like he's a person!" Which sounds stupid, but really when they go from lumps of baby, to fully actualized human, it can be pretty astounding.

'Cause when I arrive, I bring the fire

The boy is mobile...and pantsless. He took 8 unassisted steps a few nights ago, and is playing with varying forms of walking, bouncing, scootching and walking on his knees. He enjoys emptying everything out of any reachable containment device. Kitchen drawers? Emptied. Dresser drawers? Emptied. Bathroom cabinets? Emptied. It's hard work, and Warren takes it seriously.

The other day, Xtian went to the bathroom, leaving Warren in the living room. They'd been dancing to the Sirius channels we get on our TV. When Xtian returned to the living room, Warren had the remote in his mouth, and an apparently free trial of the Playboy channel on the tv screen. Fantastic. Nothing like some early exposure to porn to really make a child's upbringing safe, secure and non-warping. Or to make sure he's solidly gay from day one.

Work is going well, I'm getting good feedback from the folks in charge, including the owner of the company. Which is good, since I moved my entire family up here for this job.

I've been out late at meetings and company required events every night this week. And mama's a little tired.

So, I'm going to go enjoy the delightful cocktail my cute househusband just brought me. Now if only I could get him to clean toilets while wearing pearls and high heels...

Just some randomness for your Monday.

A few wonderful things from this weekend:

• Soft launch of Cory's restaurant's dinner. Which meant, 1/2 price sushi. Really, really good sushi.
• Farmer's market and the resulting champagne grapes and purple bell peppers
• Pizza making party with two siblings, two sib-in-laws, and one wonderful friend
• A baby who has finally stopped wanting to be fed in the middle of the night
• Getting to sleep in my own durned bed, with my own durned husband after three weeks alone on the couch
• My baby finally called me "Mama"

It is officially fall, and I'm sad to see summer go. Not that we do much differently around these parts, but you know the IDEA of summer is just so appealing. However, fall means I get to: cook soup at least 3 nights a week, not feel badly about heating up the house by cooking , rededicate myself to becoming a better baker and start realizing that holy shit my kid is going to have a birthday in a few months.

And like every fall, I begin looking at my wardrobe and wondering, "What the hell did I wear last year and the year before when it started getting cold?" Because, I'll be darned if I have more than one sweater or pair of wool pants. What? Is there a little monster who eats winter clothing every March? I know I'm not the only one who does this every year.

I went to lunch with a very pregnant former coworker last week. We had a delightful time dishing about baby-related things and pregnant-related things. And would you think me mentally deranged if I told you that all I could think about was, "Damn it, I want another baby"? It does make me sick, doesn't it? I was worried about that.

When I started talking to Xtian about future child(ren) he immediately started hyperventilating because, WHERE would we put another person in our house? Currently four humans are dwelling in what can only be described as one and a half bedrooms. Cory's room barely fits the futon he sleeps on (and to get it inside the room, it has to be dismantled). Xtian, Warren and I share our almost normal sized bedroom, but you have to walk through it to get from the living room to the kitchen or bathroom, or anywhere in the house that isn't the living room. (It's a jacked up floor plan).

So, I guess I shouldn't bring up more kids until we have a little more room, eh?

Of Babies and Wedding Gifts.

I think Warren is trying to kill us all. (People who don't give a crap what my kid does, go ahead and skip ahead, I'll let you know when we're done here). Up until a week ago:
Warren went down to sleep with about 1 minute of whining, but would wake up about once or twice a night. I don't think he was actually hungry, but more out of habit and nursing as a way of going back to sleep. Generally, we put him down by 7 pm, and had to get him up at 6:15 am. (Yes, I have to wake my sleeping baby to get him to daycare in time for me to get to work on time.)

So, in an effort to break the wake up habit, Xtian and I employed a method that has been successful in the past. It's pretty simple, I sleep on the couch, so when Warren wakes up the milk-machine isn't even there, so he goes back to sleep. Eventually, he'll stop waking up all together since the payoff isn't there.

The last time we did this was right around the 4 month sleep regression. After a week, he was all good and regularly sleeping through the night again. (He started sleeping 11 hours at a stretch at seven weeks old after a night spent in my sister's room. Kat is magic.) Then there was teething, then vacation, then crawling, then daycare changes all of which disrupted our rhythm and left him needing the comfort.

So, here we are and after a week of our lazy brand of sleep training. Last night Warren didn't finally go and stay asleep until 11 pm. And then he awoke at 6 am. So, I guess technically he slept through the night, but getting 4 hours less sleep in a night. Awesome. I kind of want to punch the kid in the face when he pulls tricks like this. The kid just couldn't stop crawling. All he wanted to do was scoot around on the floor and get into mischief. As my sister pointed out to me, this is when the kid starts to prove that I am, in fact, his mama. My stubborn "I've got stuff to do, get out of my way" attitude is alive and well in the next generation. Fantastic. That's what the world needs, another ME running around.

So, we'll see how tonight goes. For Xtian's sake, I hope it goes well. While Warren can sleep in until 6, the rest of us are up by 4 am. And since Xtian drives for a living, 5 hours of sleep is not enough. I cringe to think if I had to spend 10 hours behind the wheel with only a few hours of sleep.

Ok, non-kid people, now's the time to rejoin us. Sorry to bore you with tales of things my kid does. I have officially lost 50 pounds since the end of pregnancy. That sounds more impressive than it is. At least 35 of those pounds were gone by the end of January. Which means it took me six months to lose 15 pounds. I'm awesome. I blame this all on Xtian. I'm not really sure how I can blame Xtian, but it's just got to be his fault, somehow. I'll work on that theory.
If I can take off another 20 pounds, I'll be pleased as punch. (For those who might worry, don't. Even with another 20 pounds, that still leaves me on the heaviest "Normal" weight for my body, so says all the BMI measuring things anyhow).

I can now officially wear, not just zip up, actually wear in public everything in my closet. That's mostly due to my throwing out all my old clothes, but still. I'm taking credit for it. Maybe some day I'll go into the basement, and actually be able to put on my OLD clothes with size numbers not in the double digits. But probably not. (Durned pregnancy and the havoc it wreaks on your hip width).

This weekend we'll be attending Xtian's friend's wedding. Should be delightful, I just love the groom. But I just went and looked at their gift registry. Wow. There are officially 10 items on the list for under $100 adn they've all been purchased already. Everything else is anywhere from $200-$500 per item. And there is no furniture on there. Dear lord, why oh why do they need $5,000 worth of dishes? And then register for a couple sets of "Casual China" on top of it?
I fully expect to be invited for dinner parties on a monthly basis. Also, why do you purchase sheets that cost over $125 per sheet...that's singular, not a sheet set... ONE SHEET. To quote my sister, "So, do you just kill yourself when you get your period on a $125 sheet?" And they want several sets of them. ACK!

Clearly, when I got married, I didn't do this right at all. Look. It's ok to want nice things, and it looks like people are buying them. But keep in mind who your friends are, and that they too will be buying these gifts. The groom's friends are all broke. So, register for a bunch of cheap things so at least they can buy you something and not have to feel like jerks. I'm not saying DON'T register for that $500 duvet. But maybe also register for... a $20 toaster. Hell, I thought I'd go cheap and buy some towels or wash cloths. NOPE. $43 per towel, $26 per wash cloth. Yeah. I think I'll buy them one wash cloth, Happy Wedding Day! I would just give cash, but we really can't afford to part with enough cash to make a decent gift. So, I usually just buy a few cheapo items and then it doesn't look so chintzy. Thank god for sales, we bought two pillows for $19. Whew!

On the plus side, a registry like that demands a fancy pants wedding. I swear to you now, if there's not an open bar with top shelf liquor, I'm demanding a refund. Ok, maybe I'll just make snarky comments afterward, but you get the drift. I can only describe this registry with the word "ostentatious", I'm fairly certain it's not the groom's doing. He's just not that type, or hasn't been when I've spent time with him. And it makes me think negatively of the bride, whom I've not met. To give the benefit of the doubt, she may just be a darling girl, and her parents are encouraging her to put all these unbelievable things on their gift list. But in my head, she's becoming a bit of a villain. Or at least a materialistic brat. I know, it's not very nice of me, and I'm trying to keep an open mind, but sheesh. Not easy.

So, it's a pattern is it?

Two Monday nights in a row, Warren has awoken before 2 am, and stayed awake until... well as far as I know, till now. Anyone else have an issue like this? He sleeps like a prince all week, but come Monday night, he goes down easily and sleeps well until 1:30 or 2:00. Then he's just awake. I'm kind of thinking it's a baby hangover from the weekend, when we aren't very good at sticking to schedules and the days are weird and we usually have a million people over. But, I could also just totally be making this up. I have no idea. Lack of sleep has left me headachy, cranky and less than rational. Should be fun times at my house.

So, all family has left my house and we've got a few days of relative normalcy before we ditch him at the grandparents' for a few days. Good lord I hope that goes ok. I'm really excited about this trip, and I'd hate to have him miserable throughout the whole thing. But also, I really really need three nights in a row of baby free sleep, and if we have to come back early, I'm going to be less than pleased.

~~

Due to family and friend obligations, I attended church twice last week. I think that has me all god-ed out for the next...five years? Sheesh. Like I know 12-step programs are way in jebus and hey, if it works for you and helps keep you clean, right on. But damn, would I rather be pretty much anywhere than sitting through church services. Luckily, having a kid is the perfect way to get out of any situation. As soon as Warren starts making any noise at all (I can't wait for the fussing, as it usually doesn't happen, so I utilize the happy sounds too) I just scoop him up and exit the room. Works like a charm.

Unfortunately for my ass, at the Catholic baptism on Sunday ( my work husband's kid, he of the shitstorm of a girlfriend) Warren was the best behaved kid there. Leaving me stuck on old school wooden pews built with no back support. I'm fairly certain these are designed to cause maximum damage to fidgeting children, as I saw no fewer than five kids accidentally crack their noggins into the seat back. Looked ouchy. But Warren wasn't one of them. While every other baby there screamed and cried, Warren sat happily and quietly ripping apart their newsletter. Damn well-contented kid. (Just kidding! Please, Karma, don't let my kid start behaving badly in public!) Also, I do have to give Warren props for, so far, never responding the Baby Scream Chain. You know the one, one kid starts screaming and within a 38 seconds every kid is screaming in a show of unity? Yeah, apparently Warren isn't linked into the chain. Whew!

Yeah. My head hurts, and I'm out!

Yadda, Yadda, Yadda.

So, two nights of Xtian being sole parent and the results are: mixed. First night, the kid slept all the way through, without stirring once. Last night, he woke up, got snuggled for a few minutes, fell back to sleep, only to wake up again two minutes before Xtian's alarm went off (at 4 am, for those keeping track). So, we're doing it again tonight to see what happens. All bets are off since it turns out, children don't care about YOUR schedule. Selfish bastards.

I realize I'm making it sound far worse than it is. Really, we get plenty of sleep. The thing standing in the way of getting as much sleep as I'd like is usually me, and my inability to realize, "holy shit, it's 9:30. I should have been asleep like an hour ago!" Because I'm vaguely ridiculous.

Anyhow. Operation de-fatten my ass is going well. I actually wore pre-pregnancy jeans outside the house, and no one was sickened by muffin top, nor did any one snicker in my general direction. Slowly but surely, the scale is doing what I want it to. It just takes obsessive monitoring of my caloric intake. And I do mean obsessive. But that suits me just fine. Since I'm verging on OCD in many ways anyhow.

The only problem with losing weight is that you don't get to decide where you lose it from. Thanks to the miracle of breastfeeding, tits are still here. Unfortunately, I can't say the same about my formerly glorious booty. Maybe I've been living in mostly black neighborhoods for too long, but I was really into having a big ass. I like the concept of end-table ass. And my booty is shrinking at a pretty steady rate. I refuse to be a pancake-butt white girl. So, I guess it's back to the StairMaster for me. *sigh*

Mmmkay. I'm out. Perhaps some random Warren loving tomorrow, since, unbelievably, he's six months old tomorrow.

Why do the internet gods hate me so?

GAH! My company's internet service is screwed. Yesterday, I couldn't get to anything google related. Including anything on blogger since it's all google-fied. Today, nothing on Wordpress is coming in. Oh yeah, and a bunch of other work-related stuff is inaccessible. I guess that's somewhat important, right?

Now that Warren's first tooth has broken through the gums, he seems to be feeling much better. But of course, now he's gotten used to waking in the middle of the night and getting nursed back to sleep. So, even though he feels fine, he keeps waking up. My solution: stop feeding him. Hopefully he'll eventually figure out that the milk machine isn't giving it up, and will stop waking up. So far, no dice. He wakes up and if it's my turn to deal with him, he gets really agitated and kind of pissy with me when I don't whip out some boob.
So at 1:30 this morning, I had to wake Xtian and make him snuggle the boy back to sleep. As soon as I scooted Warren across the bed to Xtian, Warren gives Xtian a "Can you believe this bitch won't feed me?!?" look. Awesome. Starting tonight, Mama is sleeping on the couch. Maybe he'll figure it out faster if I'm not there.

~~

Saturday I'd invited my friend Eric's baby mama and their kid, C, to join me at the Farmer's market. These two are kind of a mess together, and there were paternity questions before kid was born etc. Just an unpleasant scene. But they're making a go of it, and to be supportive of my friend, I wanted to make an effort with the baby mama, L. I've met L before, and she used to work with me. However, it was not a good relationship. She has some major insecurity and jealousy issues and has said some unkind things about me in the past. I've decided to just let all that go, and am trying to be a mama-friend for her, as she seems to be lacking in the friends department.
I was really concerned about how this would go, since we've never spent any time without our respective partners. But, she ended up dragging Eric along anyway. I was hoping we'd get a chance to actually talk without the boys, since she seems so...insecure with him there, and rarely talks to anyone but him. But, whatever, if she was more comfortable, I can't blame her. After about 5 hours with them both, I was exhausted. I think she's a good person and clearly a very attentive mama, but wow. She's very intense to be around, and you don't get to finish a whole lot of sentences when she's there.

I don't know if I'll do a repeat of the whole thing. I'd like to get to know her better, without Eric being there. And I'm hoping her need needless defensiveness will wane a little bit if we spend some more time together. But then again, she just might be that in your face all the time.
We'll see if she makes any effort now that I've opened the door a bit.

Man, I had all kinds of stuff to write about here yesterday, but since the internet hates me, I couldn't. Now I can't remember what the hell I was going to write. Whatever. Maybe it will come to me another time. But, honestly, it probably wasn't that important to begin with. Huzzah.

Verbal vomit, my favorite!

So, I think I hate the new color of my little page here. But I wanted to dick around with the sidebar stuff, and the editor was so enticing and has some new features. So, you start screwing around and in a matter of minutes, it's hideous. Of course, about that time I realize I've got shit to do, so just leave it with a strange combo of off-putting colors and say, "eh, at least it's not making my brain hurt to look at." This is exactly how I go about doing anything vaguely artistic. I start out trying to do something neat, then get bored, and say screw it. I'm awesome.

You know, I try to keep as much of my money in Oakland as I can. I like to support my local shops as much as possible, or at least frequent chains in my neighborhood. I've all but stopped eating fast food, which is also good. But the other night, we were watching a little tv, and saw a commercial for a new sandwich at a fast food joint. It looked delightful, so we said fuck it, and got some. Now, here's where we run into problems. Oakland is chock full of the worst fast food employees ever. Three sandwiches, all the same. Two of them were missing the very ingredients that made it different from any other burger. Nice job. And in classic fashion this place that advertises by talking about their flame-broiled burgers? Yeah, these were definitely microwaved. And it seems like all the restaurants in my neighborhood, chain or not, are like this. The worst service with completely shitty food, and they'll give you an attitude about it. Really makes me feel good about keeping my money in the neighborhood. I know, I live in the ghetto, but do we have to keep perpetuating the crappiness? For reals, how hard is it to NOT SUCK at your McJob? Of course no one wants to be there, but at least try not to throw my food on the floor before handing it to me.

In other news, in addition to the 5+ murders in my neighborhood last week, a woman was shot while she slept in her bed. The bullet was intended for someone else, but managed to miss the target, go through her wall, and kill her. I know my neighborhood is getting worse, but I make it a point to minimize my trips outside the home after dark, I stay out of the known problem areas, and do my best not to piss anyone off. And now even all that isn't enough. People who aren't involved in anything shady are being killed in their beds. West Oakland is really getting awful. Just a little more fuel on the "Get the Hell out of Oakland" fire.
Which is a shame. Aside from the growing violent crime, I really like Oakland. I like the people, the weather is unbeatable, seriously, it's just crusty urban enough and isn't totally gentrified, yet.
(Tangent: You got to love my comments when another house full of hippy/punky people moved in next door. "Goddamn white people! Just ruining my neighborhood!" Yes, I am white, thanks for asking. Sometimes I don't even make sense to myself. And no, I don't count as adding to the gentrification. I'm married to a black man, and have a mixed kiddo. I'm practically an honorary member of the community. So says I!)

Warren's only 4 months old (almost) and I've already had problems with the racial check boxes. Some forms have allowed me to check as many boxes as apply to ethnic and racial heritage. But a lot still force you to choose one. Well, that's just not going to cut it. He's not more white than black, or vice versa. And the whole, "One drop, and you're black" shit is just racist as can be. So, I've just been checking both boxes, and forcing the form reader to make that choice.
How is it that most of our government forms haven't figured out the whole "interracial parents" thing? I didn't think it was 1952, but apparently, I'm wrong. I didn't think biracial kids were that uncommon anymore. Why is this still ok?

I'm annoyed. Can you tell?

I keep waiting for the crazy first time parent thing to start happening. Not that I want it to, but I'm really not feeling that obsessive "I'm doing this wrong aren't I" pressure. We don't have many toys for him, I don't really think most things we have are even necessary. I tend not to worry about most things. My general parenting attitude can be summed up in, "eh, fuck it." Is it going to start up eventually, or since I'm a crazy person to begin with, am I just exhibiting those tendencies via milk supply obsession?

Meanwhile, my 16-plus-pound almost-4-month-old is starting to pull his knees under him and start pumping his legs while on his tummy. It's so close to mobile, I'm ready to put him inside a box to keep him from crawling. I'm totally unprepared for a crawling kid, it's not even funny. Shoot, that'll mean I'll have to do some baby-proofing. And we all know I'm lazy! I was hoping to be out of our current home before he is capable of self-propulsion. Hell, half our old-school heating vents don't even screw into the wall! I'm going to lose Warren into the heating ducts, and then I'll have to send the cat in after him. That'll be some top-notch parenting. I can't wait.

Ok, this is day two of brain-vomiting all over the place here. Someday I'll show up with an actual narrative arc, I promise. Just not today.

Football, Casseroles, and COMPLETE BOREDOM!

With only two and a half days left before I head out on maternity leave, I’ve got nothing left to do. I prepared so well for my absence, that I’m actually superfluous this entire week. Spectacular.

This football season is officially depressing. My Raiders excel at losing, the goddamn Patriots with Tom “EVERYONE SUCKS BUT ME” Brady keep winning and all teams I wish death upon are all doing well. This is a load of bullshit. I wholly back the Raiders’ recruitment strategy from the 70s. In summary, the recruiters went to San Quentin and other prisons, grabbed a group of enormous, scary looking inmates and told them, “We’ll let you out to play football. But if you lose or screw up again, you’ll be right back here for the rest of your life.”

Now THOSE are some motivated football players!

~~
So, I took my cat to the vet, and for the low low price of $220 I was told, “Well, I have no idea why she has bleeding sores all over her belly and legs. But why don’t you shove this liquid down her throat every night, and smear this foul-smelling goo on the sores 3 times a day and we’ll see if that works.”

When asked what would happen if it didn’t work, I was told, “In that case it might be cancer and we’ll have to do a biopsy and evaluate our options then.” So, hurray. If some goo and an antibiotic cost me $220, I can only imagine what biopsies and cancer treatment will run me. And of course I am making light of this situation because if I am forced to choose between keeping my cat alive and emptying my bank account/going into debt, it will probably be the death of me.

So, let’s all cross our fingers and hope this works. After a few days of chasing the cat around and trying to feed her medicine, which invariably ended with me in tears, begging my cat to just HELP ME HELP YOU! Xtian finally took over the dosing. And of course, for him, she sits still and it’s done within 2 minutes. She knows I’m a total sucker.

~~
My mother would be so proud. On Saturday, Xtian and I drove out to visit my aunt and see my new baby cousin. And I couldn’t resist the Mormon Housewife urge to bring food. So, I made an enormous lasagna, complete with bake and toss packaging, and brought it out to her. (For those not familiar with Mormon Code Of Conduct, whenever someone is sick, having a hard time, or has had a new baby, YOU BRING A CASSEROLE! It’s so intrinsic, I don’t think we all even realize we do it. I’ve not been a practicing Mormon for more than a decade, and yet, there it is).

At first my aunt kind of looked at me funny when I shoved the dish in her fridge. But the phone call I got the next day assured me that she figured out just how awesome people bringing you food can be.

So, I got to indulge my impulses and watch Xtian melt into a pile of goo with my little baby cousin. Truly, the cutest thing you can imagine.

OK everyone: I’ve still got another hour or so of work left, and then two more days after this. That’s a total of…17 hours to fill. So, let’s all pull together and help me keep my sanity: BLOG. I don’t care if it’s an hour by hour recounting of a trip to the DMV. I need reading material, and I need it bad!

So, I am awesome.

I shall explain why.

I go to the gym before work. This means that I pack all my clothes the night before, as doing so at 4 am would lead to some rather unhappy fashion choices.
Last night, while packing my bag, I threw in one of the three pairs of pants I can still wear, a shirt I am just barely fitting into, a horribly uncomfortable pair of panties (seriously, Hanes. Some women have this thing called an “ass.” Please accommodate some booty without the front panel bunching and bulging. Thanks!), and just grabbed a bra off the top of the pile.

I got the gym this morning, worked out, had a shower and was getting dressed when I realized the bra I had packed? Hasn’t fit since before I got pregnant. It’s a full cup size and probably two band sizes too small. And the shirt I’d brought is very thin, therefore going without was not an option. So, I did my best to cram into the bra. I’m going to have welts all over my chest by the time I get home. Why do I even keep old, non-fitting clothing?

Of course, because I’m me, I don’t just keep my own retardedness to myself. I called Xtian as soon as I got to work to tell him how dumb I was. He made some sympathetic sounds and then said, “Why didn’t you just drive home and change before going to work?”


Um, because that would have made sense? Jebus. Now I’m doubly retarded, as the thought never even occurred to me. What is UP, college education? I’m pretty sure my uppity university would be demanding my degree back if they were made aware of this situation.


MC keeps teasing me with contractions. For the last handful of days, I’ve had some nasty, painful, back pain inducing contractions, usually a handful of minutes apart. Last night, in the car, I was having some really horrid pain that I could barely breathe through. I’ve not let myself believe that it was going anywhere, but start timing them, just in case.

And without fail, every night, they peter out on their own. Look here, kid. I’m tired. I’m ready to be done with pregnancy. I understand that means I’ll have to endure labor and delivery, neither of which sound pleasant, but it’s the price we pay to increase the number of cute children in the world. And I’m ok with it.

What I am NOT ok with are these continuous fake outs. Screaming pain is not something I’d choose to endure for fun. So, bring the pain, but get on the stick and be born already. Or, conversely, let me remain pain free until you are ready to be born.

I guess what I’m saying is, shit, or get off the pot. Commit, already!

Weekend recap, only a few days after the fact.

So, let’s see…my aunt had her baby on Saturday. She called me at 10 am to let me know that she was sorry, but she wouldn’t be able to make it to the baby shower, as she’d just been admitted to the hospital. Gee, you think? So, I squealed, told her to get that baby born already and to have her husband keep us all posted. It’s a boy, he’s very cute and I already tried to steal him as my “practice baby.” No dice.

The baby shower was just delightful. The house was stuffed to the gills with people and food, which is my favorite way to do things. Food was fabulous, I made a massive quantity of guacamole, there were many nibbly Mexican food things, a DELICIOUS salad and a tasty ice cream cake. Jen took some wonderful pictures of everyone, which if she feels like sharing, I’ll let her post the link in a comment.
Everyone was amazingly generous and we now have more baby stuff than I can wrap my brain around. Then I got to spend the rest of the weekend hanging out with my mama. Now, if only every weekend could be so nice.

Of course Xtian’s friends proved, once again, that they suck. After telling Xtian that they’d be carpooling and caravaning down for the party, they called Friday night to offer half-assed excuses as to why they wouldn’t make it. (For further evidence see: the complete lack of a bachelor party for Xtian when we got married, and the threat of not coming to our wedding since it was inconveniently dated what with their “Community theater” obligations. Fucking asswads.) I don’t know why I ever expect them to show any amount of concern or caring for Xtian, but I do know that it hurts Xtian every time, and it makes me want to choke them all.

But in spite of his friends’ being fucktards, Xtian had a nice time mingling with my family and friends. I just wish SOMEONE from Xtian’s life would be supportive of him. I feel badly that he’s always surrounded by my folks, and is left hanging by his own. He’s just too wonderful and deserves better than he gets.

OH! And while we’re on the topic of people hurting and letting Xtian down, let’s add another installment of Xtian’s Batshit Insane Mother Does Weird Stuff!

I got home from work on Friday and found one envelope addressed to Xtian, our unborn kid and me. A large manila envelope was addressed solely to Xtian. Both had a return address from a law office in Beverly Hills. One look and I knew they were from my MIL. (Remember the last we heard from her was a three-page letter telling Xtian what a disappointment of a son he was and urging him to break up with me. Complete silence since then).

Now, I had decided previously to return all mail and packages to her unopened, as I’d like to discourage her from contacting us at all. But, it was from a law office, and part of me hoped she was disowning us, legally. And I’m not the least bit ashamed to say that the thought warmed my soul. So, I thought we should probably open them.

Xtian asked that I wait for him to come home before I opened them and so I did. And I’ll be damned if after all that buildup, it was standard MIL material. The first envelope (addressed to Xtian, myself, and an unborn fetus) contained about 30 pages of photocopied text, most of it a bio for the lawyer that she apparently now works for (although, that's just an assumption. No explanation was actually included). The other envelope contained a press kit for the same lawyer. And one handwritten note telling Xtian that there was no need to make arrangements for Xtian’s brother to come and visit, as, and here I will directly quote, “our van will be arriving soon and we’ll both come for a visit.”

What?

So, apparently she got word that Xtian’s been talking to his brother about school schedules so that the brother can come meet his new niece or nephew on a school break. Apparently MIL forgot that she hereby decreed that Xtian would not be able to see his brother until Xtian got rid of the “negative influence” in his life. (That would be me.)

Now, I don’t actually think she’ll ever make it up to visit as it took a lot of financial assistance and negotiation to get her up for her son’s wedding, and this time, no one’s offering anything of the sort.

But part of me almost wants her to just so I can have the petty satisfaction of telling her she’s not welcomed in my home, and that the police will be called if she doesn’t remove herself from the premises before slamming the door in her face.
That, or beating her over the head with a crow bar until I’m no longer angry. You know, whatever strikes my fancy at the moment.

Now I regret opening the damned mail in the first place and should have just stuck with my plan to return everything to her unopened. Damn my morbid curiosity!

So, yeah. That’s where it all stands now. Good weekend, love my mama, hate Xtian’s friends, MIL: Still fucking nuts. Huzzah.

Needing A Nap.

So, my nice relaxing weekend with the folks didn’t quite pan out how I had hoped. Dad ended up coming down with my mom, but that meant their travel was dictated by a dinner in Folsom on Friday night, (meaning they got to my house after 11 pm. Yech!) and a speaking obligation at 9 am on Sunday morning (meaning they left my house at 5am. Also Yech!). But we did get the baby room pretty much all put together.

3 hours of traipsing through Ikea, and we have: curtains, a rocking/bouncing chair for mama, a rug, fabulous shelves, decorative fun things, and a bunch of organizational what have you. And, since I had all the help in the world, I didn’t have to carry anything, sew anything, iron anything or so much as touch an allen wrench. These are all good things.

I did take before pictures, but I haven’t managed the after pictures yet. Need to wait for the good lighting.

The only things remaining: clothing (I keep forgetting that a 6 pack of newborn onesies probably won’t get us very far), blankets (preferably NOT covered in cat hair), toys/decorations for the room (even with my fabulous mirror art, those walls are still awfully empty), and a Mocha Cub.

And since I found out that my company will most likely make me burn all my accumulated time off for maternity leave, I’ll be using it all up soon, thank you very much. Hopefully the occasional midweek day off will help me get some more rest. But, knowing me, it’s just going to be more time to clean the house, and fret.

And that’s it. I’m out of here folks.

Rambling begets rambling, with a side of complaining

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Rambling! It's what's for dinner!

Weekend, blah blah blah. Had a delightful birthday dinner for Sarah on Friday night. Sarah brought a new boy she’s been dating, which worried me a bit when I heard he was coming. Allow me to briefly explain:
Over the course of our friendship, Sarah’s had a good number of male-companions. And as I recollect, every single one of them has hated me. And I don’t mean they’ve quietly harbored some distaste for my personality. I mean, violently, and verbally HATED ME! Which is interesting, because, in a lot of ways, Sarah and I are pretty alike. So, if they hate me, why are they dating her?

Anyway, as a result and to preserve my delicate self-esteem, I’ve decreed that I don’t want to meet anyone she’s dating unless he’s been around for a couple of months. (See, if he’s in it for the long haul, I’ll put up with the hatred. But if he’s a short timer? Why would I subject myself to that?) And this guy has only been around for a couple of weeks. Blah.

I’m pleased to report that dinner was a fun time. That boy was pretty quiet, but when he did speak it was fun, and funny, and in line with the conversation at hand! I know, it doesn’t sound like much. But for a first meeting, I tend to be a little intimidating for some. And after the last guy I met, this guy was a glorious, shining example of all things good. (You see, the last guy came to my house, got stinking, aggressively LOUDLY drunk, and proceeded to SHUSH me repeatedly when I tried to quietly reel him in. So he’d stop annoying everyone. Look, when Xtian has to grab you by the shoulder and lecture you, “Don’t you shush her,” you are clearly a retard. So, yeah. Almost anything is an improvement on that guy.)

Apparently, in a weird shift, my VP presented my maternity leave proposal to our CEO. Now, I’m trying not to get my hopes up, because I’ve seen this game before, but this does make me feel a little bit better. Like, maybe there’s a chance they won’t try to dick me over on this. I know. I know. That’s crazy talk.

In the meantime, I’ve managed to jump entirely over the next few months, and am completely obsessed with/fixated on finding a childcare solution. Reminder: the very earliest I’ll need a nanny/daycare provider is MARCH. And frankly, I’m not all that picky. It’s a 3 month old. Feed it, clean it, tell it it’s smart/pretty/sweet and that’s pretty much all they need. I can always change it later. And it’s especially weird to be fixating since I have no idea when they’ll start working, what days/hours they’ll be working and where I’ll be employed.

I think I’m just finding new things to freak out over because I’m insane. Or because I really don’t want to think about birth. Birth sounds hurty, but there ain’t much I can do about it at this point. Yeah yeah, breathing, massage, distraction etc. Got it. As a girl who deals with migraines, back problems and wicked menstrual situations, I’m fairly adept at using all those natural tools to reduce pain. But beyond that basic hypothetical, I’m at a loss. And I don’t do well without concrete things I can do to prepare. So I’m sticking with buying random baby supplies, and freaking out over Craigslist childcare options. Anyone know of a good daycare in West Oakland? Or a nanny who works on a compliment/trade basis. I make dinner. I’ll tell him/her they’re pretty? Eh, fuck it. I’ve got 6 months to deal with that.

Anyhow, how are you doing?

Try not to miss me too badly...

Ok, how early can I take off the day before my vacation? Because quite honestly, everything I needed to get done before was completed by 11 am. I managed to kill some time shooting the shit with my boss, then it was time to eat, but other than that, I’m just staring at the clock, willing it to go faster.

How soon does chicken salad go bad in the fridge? I made a delightful batch on Saturday, and finished it off today. It tasted fucking awesome, but now I’m feeling a little…off. And of course, I forgot my horesepill of a vegan pre-natal vitamin. This is one of those delightful capsules that if not taken EXACTLY 4 minutes before you stuff yourself with food, you will be nauseous and dry-heaving for the rest of the day. A lovely effect for someone whose body is already doing completely irrational things. So, I’ll be damned if I put that devil in my stomach in an already delicate state.

My mom came through her surgery this morning and it went pretty much as expected. She’s still all anesthetized, and probably hilarious (dude, Mormons on drugs? Funniest shit ever. For reals, you simply must experience it to fully comprehend), but hopefully she’ll be home tomorrow or Thursday. So, hurray for mama!

So, I’m being really weird about purchasing things for MC. I don’t know if anyone has mentioned it, but kids need a bunch of stuff. And some of this shit is kind of expensive: car seats? Legally required, illegal to purchase second-hand, and they are all about $100. Fine. Strollers: you’re probably looking at $200, cribs, changing tables/dressers, not to mention that did you know cribs need things like…sheets? I was surprised too. And then everyone is shocked when you don’t have all the matchy matchy, color coordinated themed shit for the room. Curtains, blankets, upholstery, wall paper, etc. Dude. It’s exhausting.

By my estimation, before this kid even shows up, we’ll have sunk about $2000 into him/her. (And really, it’ll be less than that because we’ve got some first time grandparents here. I’m almost scared of the amount of baby shit that will find itself in my home come babyshower time.)
Which isn’t that big of a deal, considering we’ve got at least 4 months until MC will need any of this shit. But I can’t seem to make myself buy anything…permanent. I finally determined that I needed to start somewhere, so I picked up a box of diaper wipes. And baby powder. Then I put together the most utilitarian baby first aid kit. And that all seems fine, because I’m not looking at it. It lives in the closet, concealed in the Target bags they came home in.

Buying furniture feels an awful lot like…committing. And dude, that shit is scary. Like, hearing the heart beat, seeing the ultrasound, feeling this kid kick the hell out of me…that isn’t bringing it all home. It’s the buying of baby things that will make it sink in. As though I’ll turn around, see a crib in my house and realize, “Holy shit! There’s going to be a whole ‘nother HUMAN here shortly! What the fuck were we thinking?”

My brain functions do not make sense. I think I’m going secondhand shopping when I’m in Chico this week. Let’s just hope some folks are just giving all this baby stuff away.