Category Archives: Work (Or the Lack Thereof)

Like a Boss

Who's the Boss?

Who’s the Boss? (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Being a stay-at-home mom is really never anything I wanted to be. Mainly because the idea of having kids sort of scared/repulsed/annoyed the bejesus out of me in and of itself. And then, you know, there’s the whole cleaning up after everyone, feeding someone all the time, changing diapers…you know…that stuff… But you know, being a SAHM is sort of like having a job . And I love it. Like, more than any job I’ve ever had (it is up there with the Activities Director position I had at that nursing home where I got to play BINGO with Alzheimer’s patients for most of the day, but really, that wasn’t much different than having kids. And it was a BLAST.) But sometimes, internet, I just wish I had a JOB. It isn’t like I don’t currently have a boss. I have one. It’s just that she’s two feet tall. And she drools. You know, more than most bosses.

There are really a lot of things I miss about working. And some days, having no contact with anyone who can have a conversation can be a little overwhelming. And frustrating. But I mean, when you think about it, work has it’s share of ridiculousness that I don’t miss too.

At work, my boss could feed herself. I have to admit, this actually does shock me, considering what a fucking idiot she was. But she didn’t need me for that. Luckily.

At work, I didn’t have to change my boss’s diaper. I can’t really comment on whether or not she wore diapers. But if she did, I am sure they were all designer and stuff. Because she was fancy. (Read: really effing pretentious and horrible.)

At work, my boss didn’t cry when something didn’t go her way and didn’t need me to console her. However, she did not know how to use a fax machine.  And she did tend to call me from across the building to fax things for her on a regular basis. And the fax machine was literally FIVE STEPS from her office. So…there’s that.

At work, my sleep didn’t get interrupted because someone had gas. There are a few reasons for this. The obvious one is that I didn’t ever get to sleep at work. Because, obviously, they wouldn’t let me do that. And the other was because at work, other people’s gas was not my problem. Now, other peoples’s gas is most certainly my problem. And it causes crying.

Sometimes I think that in a few months, maybe I will get a part time job to just…get out of the house for a bit and talk to adults. But then I reconsider. Because adults are…well…not always all they are cracked up to be. And who wouldn’t want the opportunity to stay home with their spawn? Even if it IS a harder job than anything else I’ve done…

 

 

Related articles

One Year Ago Me…

Okay, so after my last post, Ande asked what the ME from one year ago would say if she read it. And that’s a super good question. Because I don’t even think that today me would be friends with one year ago me. And not because that me wasn’t a good me, just that THAT me? Well, she didn’t want kids, she had toxic people in her life, and she was too stubborn to admit that she had everything in the world already that she could ever want. It sounds super cheesy. And THIS me, she knows that. But THIS me also knows that One Year Ago Me spent a little too much time worrying about everyone else and not really considering that everyone else didn’t matter as much as…well…ME.

A year ago, I had a job that I loved, but that made me feel like I was wasting my potential and running in circles. I was constantly overworked, underpaid and grossly underappreciated and I put up with it because…well, One Year Ago Me was sort of a moron. But that job, however ridiculously insane it made me, helped people, and at the end of the day, made me feel good. The people I worked for/with, on the other hand, were pretty much the worst. (And, as you know, they later proved that.) One Year Ago Me took my job home with me and considered that job to be one of the most important things in her life. FAIL.

A year ago, I was friends with a bunch of selfish people. I spent years and years being there for them through deaths and births and things that I, too, experienced, but received little to no support from those people during. I placed these people over family. Because I didn’t have a great childhood and I didn’t feel like many of my family members really gave a shit. And I felt like my friends would be my family if ever I needed them to be. Turns out, they were horrible, selfish people who would disappear when things in my life got tough. FAIL.

The one place One Year Ago Me didn’t fail was with MB. It took a while to get somewhere in my head when we first started dating that I didn’t feel like something was going to get screwed up. And I had to deal with that for a long time. One Year Ago Me was celebrating her one year anniversary with MB and finally accepting that something was going right. And One Year Ago Me was a pretty happy gal in that respect.

The moral of the story? One Year Ago Me was concerned with being the most knowledgable at work, the best friend she could be, and coming to terms with being a live-in girlfriend. But she was, in no way, wanting to start a family. Because that girl didn’t really think that family was all that big a deal.

Today Me knows differently. Today Me has the best relationship with her mother that she has ever had. She is unemployed but she feels like things will work out and that, the asshole move that her former employer pulled, might have been kind of a blessing. Has the best relationship she has ever had. And now, has this beautiful daughter. Who lights up every, single moment of every single day.

So, to answer your question, Ande? It doesn’t really matter what One Year Ago Me would say. Because she had a dumb job, selfish friends and was too scared to do something that really meant something. She was kind of a fucktard.

In your FACE, One Year Ago Me. Your friends are assholes and you’re gonna get fired.

On Motherhood

 So, since the birth of Baby L, I have literally written 37 blog posts about motherhood. You know, like, in my head. Where none of you can read them. Shockingly, between diaper changing and bottle washing, and being puked on, I haven’t really had a lot of time to actually type things. But lemme tell you, I’m a hell of a mind blogger. If only there was some way to hook up WordPress to my actual brain, you guys would have reading material FOREVER…

Anyway, so yeah. What’s up, internet? I’m a mom now. And it is INSANE.

I have to say, internet, that it honestly is one of the most rewarding things EVER to have a baby and to be someone’s parent but it is also terrifying. I have never felt so truly inept* at anything as I did the first few weeks of Baby

sleep

sleep (Photo credit: Sean MacEntee)

L’s life. And I don’t say this to scare all of you preggos or to discourage those of you who aren’t yet on this path, I just mean to say that it is WORK. Granted, I would trade this work for any other work I have ever done in my life. Because even though I haven’t slept in my bed on a regular basis in five weeks, it was worth it the first time that little girl smiled at me. (Which may or may not have been because she was trying to poop, but you take what you can get at this age, because she is basically a meatloaf. A really, really adorable meatloaf.)

I knew that the sleep deprivation was going to be hard. And I honestly thought that, given the fact that I hadn’t slept well for several months anyway, (you know, because a ginormous belly does nothing for sleeping comfortably) I could rock the hell out of not sleeping. Because, I was in my twenties once.  (Hard to believe, but it is totally true.) I never expected, however, that my child would not sleep in or on ANY contraption that I purchased for sleeping. Because MY kid was going to sleep through the night right after birth. And she would do it anywhere that I put her, but she would MOST DEFINITELY love her bassinet.

FAIL.

Baby L likes to sleep one of two places: on my chest or in her swing. Period.

This makes sleeping in my bedroom impossible because I can’t sleep with her in the bed (believe in co-sleeping or not, when you are desperate, you are desperate) because MB is a giant and sleeps like he is even BIGGER than he is and is terrified that he will kill her and I can’t move the swing into the bedroom because it is huge and cumbersome and I need it to be accessible if and when I try to do things in other parts of the house. So, internet, I have moved into the living room. (Which, by the way, has recently become infested with spiders of all varieties, and I am totally phobic.This was remedied last week, but HOLY CRAP.) I sleep the first half of the night with Baby L in the swing, swaddled and comfy and after her feeding, she is changed, un-swaddled and sleeps on my chest.  I have to say, even though it means that I barely sleep at all, I rather like the cuddling. Because she is teeny and warm and adorable. And I grew her. So, there’s that…

During the first week, Baby L did not sleep at night at all. Evidently, she was confused about what to do when it gets dark outside and mommy is crying hysterically because she hasn’t slept in four days. Luckily, MB’s mom spent a few days with us after it became obvious that I might never sleep again and, since she works nights and was on vacation, she was able to hang out with the nugget while the parents actually slept. Together. In the same room. It has gotten gradually better and now she is sleeping, sometimes, up to five hours at a time after her bath and last bottle. Which makes mommy very, VERY happy. And if I weren’t so exhausted, I might even do a cartwheel or two about it.

MB has, however, been a huge help when he is home on the weekends and has even let me have the day shift while he sleeps on the couch at night so that I don’t get all delirious and start streaking through our neighborhood or something equally ridiculous. And the crazy thing about sleeping in my bedroom? I feel guilty about not sleeping in the same room with my kid. GUILTY! Can you believe that? (If you are a new mom, you probably can and don’t think I am insane. Evidently, this is a thing.)

Either way, things are getting better, and sleep is becoming something that I do sometimes. Which I enjoy.  And I have a bunch of amazing friends who have either come by to help me get some random things done around the house or have at least been there to answer their phones when I call them and freak out about the fact that the baby has just spit up into my cleavage and it was more spit up than I remember ever having happened before and OH MY GOD is that OKAY? Is my baby sick? Should I call the doctor on call? (Which, mind you, I have done on THREE, count ’em THREE occasions since we brought her home.Yep. I am a spazz. And I’m okay with that, internet. I don’t know how to work a baby! Give me a break!)

I should really get back to my kid now. But I wanted to say THANK YOU to all of you ladies (and gent!) who have commented here, tweeted, emailed or come by to help, say congrats, or whatever. You guys rock my face off! (Special thanks to Kathryn for the cute goodies that I use daily because I MUCH prefer the adorable burp cloths to the gross white ones! I’m a burp cloth stuff elitist now, see what you’ve done?)

Okay, now which one of you is NEXT?!

*Except Math. I am super inept at Math.

Also, you guys should go here and buy some cute baby stuff! Expansion is coming soon, I hear!

Related articles

Kind of a Big Deal

I know many of my readers are pregnant ladies ad many of you are aware that I was terminated from my employment just two days after announcing my pregnancy. I urge you to PLEASE read! Pregnancy discrimation is alive and kicking. Help stop it!

womenslawproject's avatarCome Check out Our NEW Site!

“Tina,” who is pregnant and works as a health aide in a nursing home, is told by her doctor that she should not lift more than 35 pounds.  Her job description requires lifting 40 pounds regularly, but lighter duty jobs, such as answering the phone and working at the reception desk, are available.  Nevertheless, her employer stops scheduling her for shifts and tells her she must take unpaid Family Medical Leave, which would run out before the delivery of her baby and leave her without the income she needs to pay the 50% of her medical insurance her employer does not cover.  Left with no choice, Tina loses her job.

“Jessica,” who is pregnant and works as a pharmacist’s assistant, needs to sit down occasionally throughout her day.  Chairs are available for customers, but the pharmacy does not permit the staff to use them.  As a result, Jessica loses her…

View original post 592 more words

Keeping On…

During pregnancy, you can definitely start to tell when the “glow” starts to wear from your face and is replaced with that “I am 33 weeks pregnant and would stab myself in the neck if it hadn’t taken me so long to get THIS CLOSE to the end”. You can tell when this starts to happen and when people are starting to notice because people are no longer all excited and hugs and giggles when they see you. Nope. Now they smile politely and sympathetically as if to say, “You look sort of miserable/homicidal. Please don’t hurt me. I love you and promise that I will bring you chocolate next time I see you. Or…you know…I can just run to the nearest Dairy Queen right now and pick you up the largest Blizzard they have. Yeah. Let’s do that. Be right back. You like peanut butter, right?”

The Medical Assistant at the doctor’s office gave me that look on Friday right before she took my weight. She was brave about the whole thing, given the fact that she had no ice cream to offer. And I like her, so she is still alive.

The good news about the whole thing is that I only have seven weeks left. SEVEN. Meaning, like, less than two months. That is so awesome, I can’t even stand it! There is still so much to do and so many decisions to make with regard to when exactly we will be moving and if we will be moving in with family for a couple of months prior to the cross-country move in order to save money. I am so torn about this because, while I know it will benefit us (A LOT), I really can’t stand living with family. I haven’t done it since I was in my very early twenties and then only for a few months until I moved in with a couple of girls (one of whom being the one that I lived with for the last 200 or so year before I came to my senses and, instead of murdering her, just moved out). I really don’t love the idea of living with anyone at all. Ideally, MB and I would stay where we currently are until we can make the big move. And while I know that this would be extremely difficult with my not being employed right now and everything, I think it would be better for our new little family to get to start off alone, without interruption and without too many people all up in our faces. I just have to decide if my sanity will withstand a newborn and cohabitating with any members of the family (mine or MB’s) and then just suck it up until we get the hell out of dodge.

I guess I will just have to play this one by ear and see how it all turns out. We will just have to do what we can afford to do. And I will have to just keep in mind that, no matter where we are, it will be temporary and SOON we will be where we need to be. Uggghhh.  I just can’t wait to get things started already! I want to skip over all of this stressful nonsense and get to the good stuff.

 

 

Related articles

Better Late Than Never

Today, at nearly 30 weeks, I had the anatomy scan which should have (and would have, if the system hadn’t tried to kill my baby) been done about 9-10 weeks ago. This being able to go to see doctors thing is pretty rad, I must say. Everything looks good so far, but of course, Baby L is stubborn and, just like last time, wouldn’t roll over so we could get a decent look at her face. The tech did manage to get a few decent shots, though, and I will go back in four weeks for another scan, just to check up. It feels good just to know I haven’t been abandoned.

20120307-135011.jpgThe last three months have really worn me down (and OUT). I think that this has been the most trying period of my life. I have stayed awake at night, my mind racing about what I would do if I never got some assistance. How I would pay. Where I would go. I have forgotten how to relate to people at times. I have been so consumed with worry that nothing has mattered. And the attempts at easing my mind by MB have been appreciated but have mostly failed. I had forgotten how to breathe. How to sleep. How to interact. Since my appointment last Thursday, I have gotten some of my normalcy back. I have laughed outloud. I have remembered to breathe. And mostly, I can sleep again. I can actually rest without the panic that loomed over me for so long. And I am telling you, all of that pent-up panic sure does wear a person out, I could likely sleep until the end of this pregnancy at this point. (Relief is the new Ambien, people.)

I still worry about unemployment. And I still harbor a good bit of anger about being fired after announcing my pregnancy and knowing what kind of morons and wastes of space are still employed there (but aren’t pregnant, so they get to stay) but I am working through that. And am certain that the parties involved will get what they deserve for what they did to me and my unborn baby. I try not to harp on the absolute absurdity of the whole thing and I try not to harbor any animosity and am certain that karma is a bitch, but, it is hard to take the high road when your child (whom you haven’t even met yet) could suffer from the insensitive and discriminatory actions of another person/entity. Just saying. I still worry things won’t work out. But I am faithful. And I am sure that they’ll get theirs. And I love being witness to karmic bitchslaps.

Related articles

On a Serious Tip

If you follow this blog at all, then you know that I lost my job of nearly FOUR YEARS just DAYS after announcing my pregnancy on Facebook. I have spoken with a LOT of people regarding pregnancy discrimination over the course of the last few months and today, found this article and thought it was VERY informative. I tried to reblog it for you, fellow preggos but was unsuccessful, but please check it out. Pregnancy discrimination is a real thing. A real, terrible, thing. 

Related articles

Share your story or input on pregnancy with the EEOC here: commissionmeetingcomments@eeoc.gov

On the Edge

I have been a bad blogger. I know, I know. Don’t hate me.

The truth is, I have been a little stuck inside my head lately. I have, throughout everything that has been going on, held on to the hope that my situation will work itself out and that, at the end of the day, things will be fine. This has been easier said than done. I applied for Medicaid at the start of this whole ordeal, after having losing my job and health insurance and have been not-so-patiently waiting and submitting all sorts of ridiculous paperwork to the powers that be, trying to secure medical care so that I don’t have a baby with 3 arms. At first, I truly was optimistic. Because I have heard that Medicaid can be a life saver, and even though I am proud and a bit too stubborn to readily accept help from people or even admit that I need it, I pressed on. I held my head high knowing that I am doing what is best for me and the baby. The health of my baby is more important than feeling defeated (because sometimes, internet, I do feel defeated and more than that, betrayed by a company that I was loyal to for years for firing me just days after the announcement of my pregnancy. Because, really?! How do they sleep at night?) I let my guard down and admitted I needed help. And you know what? The Medicaid system sucks.

After everything I did and all the waiting for results. Still nothing. Not only nothing, but now I find out that they denied my claim because they “did not receive all necessary documentation”. Mind you, their online system shows that everything WAS received over three weeks ago. BOTH TIMES THAT I SENT IT (just to be on the safe side). And I’ll be damned if I can get anyone on the phone who isn’t a total BITCH or who speaks English or who knows how to work the computer. (Seriously. This is not a joke.) So, there are unreturned calls and 45 minute hold times that end in absolutely NOTHING. Meanwhile, our little bean is just kicking it inside my belly. (And by kicking it, I mean kicking the hell out of ME.)

And I am six months along today. And I am starting to panic. Because I have no idea what to do. I have never felt more helpless in my life.

My Beloved has been wonderful. He reassures me that we will do whatever we have to do. And if he has to work 3 jobs, he will. I can be comforted by this for about 3.5 seconds, until I feel a kick or a hiccup and then I want to hurl many glass things at many walls and stab people and all sorts of other violent things. (This could have something to do with hormones…)

I desperately wanted to write a post about the Zaxby’s commercials about the fried pickles that makes me salivate and be all charming and funny, but I can’t. The reality is, this situation is sucking all of the charm and wit out of me and making me a big, panicky psychopath and I really just want some effing fried pickles and a prenatal OB appointment.

It’s All Downhill From Here…

But totally in a good way!

Yesterday, the wee one hit the 20 week mark! This is amazing news because it means (gasp!) that this whole pregnancy thing is HALF OVER! I know that this doesn’t necessarily mean that I am out of the woods and that it is going to be a piece of cake from here, but it definitely means that I only have to be pregnant for as long as I have been pregnant so far and this, my friends, is awesome news. I know that there are many trials and MUCH growth to go, but it will be over SOON(ish) and then we will have a real, live, honest-to-goodness baby. And then I will freak out for a whole new set of reasons. Hooray!

Since the sonogram and the announcement to the family of the sex of our little bean, I have actually (slowly but surely) been taking on a new attitude. The excitement of the whole thing is starting to outweigh the longing for a girls’ night out complete with a giant, dirty martini. I am not saying that I spend every minute of every day super excited and nesting and running around like a momzilla or anything, but I definitely feel more moments of intense joy than I did, well, probably ever before in my life. The more the wee one moves, (which let me tell you, she is definitely fond of doing) the more I feel connected to her. Sometimes she doesn’t move all day and I have a mini coronary, thinking that something might be wrong. But then I lie down in bed with My Beloved and he puts his giant hand across my belly and there she is, flipping around like a little dolphin. I think she is showing off for her daddy. Already a daddy’s girl, I see. (As it should be, I guess. I am totally prepared to take on the role of the evil mother and disciplinarian since, like most daddies I’ve seen, MB is already melting at the idea of having a little girl and will likely be useless as far as discipline goes…)

I don’t really know when this change happened but I feel a mixture of things. I feel calmer than before. It sounds weird, but I haven’t really been nervous about actually having a child. I feel completely confident and confident that I will figure it out. Yes, I have moments of crazy panic and irrational spaz attacks, but for the most part I am sure I will be a good mother. I know what kind of little person I would like my little person to be and I will do my best to make sure that she knows that she is loved and special and wanted, every, single day. Because I never really had that. And I think that is the most important thing  a child needs to know. “You are a miracle and we love you very much.” I know that this pregnancy, expected or not, is something that was meant to happen, and despite my cynicism and sarcasm, I don’t take it lightly, and I won’t take being a parent lightly either. I may not know the specifics of HOW to do it yet, but I have a pretty good idea of how NOT to do it, so, that’s a start.

I also feel, sometimes, that I am completely unprepared and ill-equipped. Again, parenting, though I know it won’t be easy, is not what scares me. What scares me is the uncertainty of our situation right now. Obviously, it is not ideal. My unemployment, while we are working it out quite well, has been a blow that has caused a lot of extra stress. And I have had to keep reminding myself of how much I hated that hell hole I was working in. And how much happier I am now that I don’t have to be there with those people. Plans have just changed because of it. Things will have to be re-planned and reconsidered. The move that we have planned will have to be delayed until we can figure out how to make it happen with a newborn. Things that will ultimately be beneficial for all of us, as a family, will still happen, but the plans will need tweaking.

Overall though, internet, I am optimistic. I feel fresh and clean. Like I have a new lease on life. Even though I am fat and cranky and my body will never be the same. And even though, my neurosis will be amplified infinitely after this kid pops out. I know we will make it work. And dammit, I am so glad that this is half over. Because I am ready to hold this little girl already…

Moving Along…A Rant About Becoming a Parent

I am a little over 18 weeks pregnant now and, in just a few short months, My Beloved and I will be welcoming our child into the world. This ilicits a lot of responses from me. It varies from minute to minute from panic, to pure joy and pride, to total depression and despair for the state of humanity.

I think the panic part of this is normal and obvious. You know, because, having always acted LIKE a kid, actually HAVING one to take care of and having to be RESPONSIBLE for, is…well…it is a huge deal. And what if we do it wrong? Like, what if having a kid is not at all like having a cat? I am so good at having a cat, you guys. I have been doing it for 12 years. And I am stellar. I mean, aside from the fact that my cat is giant and overweight and still has not figured out that, not only is the litterbox for poop, it is for PEE. He prefers rugs.  Which is better than the actual carpet, but is still not ideal.  What if my kid won’t ever pee in a toilet? What if he/she prefers closets? Or the screened-in porch? Or, like, the kitchen sink? And what if, like in training (or not training, evidently) my cat, I am unable to persuade said child to pee inside the toilet?  What if I am a total failure?! Peeing in appropriate places is supremely important for most people in most situations.

(Sidenote:  Now that I am talking about this I am thinking about things I have not yet tried to show my cat how to pee INSIDE the litterbox and I am wondering why I have never tried to “lead by example” and realizing that, now that I am peeing 7 million times a day and am home with him most of the time, I may actually be able to train him correctly. Hmmm…Ponderous, no?

Side Sidenote: I want to stress here that I did say that peeing in appropriate places is supremely important for MOST people in MOST situations. Unless, MB and I decide to bring the baby up in some colony of naked rednecks or in some tribe somewhere in a desert, peeing in appropriate places will most likely be a really valuable skill. But I do understand that tribal people, naked, toothless rednecks and drunk frat boys do not live by our rules.)

I guess the joy and pride part is really very common too. I mean, who doesn’t take pride in making something special? When I make a perfectly round pancake, I sometimes feel the need to take pictures of it and post it on seven social networking sites so, you can imagine how proud I am feeling right now that a human being is currently hanging out in my womb just waiting to bust out and show everyone what REAL awesome looks like. I am sure this feeling of pride will last significantly longer than my perfectly round, Facebook pancake. I mean, I get to be proud of many things about this kid. When he/she rolls over for the first time. Or takes his/her first steps. Or starts kindergarten. Or learns the rules of appropriate peeing. Or granduates from high school. Take that, pancake!

But then the despair sets in. I wonder often, while breaking my one-woman eating contest and watching Jerry Springer (the joys of unemployment), how I can sleep at night knowing that I am bringing a child into a world where the topic of television shows is often “I Slept with My Sister’s Brother’s Cousin, Who Also May or May Not be My Real Father…Or Possibly Great-Aunt. Oh, yeah. And I’m Also A Stripper.” And where people say “irregardless” like it is a totally acceptable word. Like it isn’t at all redundant. How can I rest knowing that I will have to shelter my child from these evils? HOW?!

I am fully aware that I am not the only woman having the same dilemma and I am sure that once I hold the wee one, I will forget about all of this crazy and just be happy that I have created something so beautiful.

I am sure the kid will be fine. Irregardless.