So, just to follow up, cause it's so much easier to bitch than work...
I nicely and kindly sent the SIL the requested list of addresses of family (that she sooooo wants to come to her wedding, but she doesn't even know where they live), promtly and and with a nice note attached...and even a pic of Peanut.
What do I get in return for culling the 35% of the addresses of the whole major metro area that are related to us (seriously, one big-ass family)?!? The time I took for her?!
Squat. Jack shit. No flipping thank you.
Witch.
On the other hand here, H had her 18 month checkup. She's "down" to 80%ile for height, and "up" to 60% for weight. I am royally pissed though, I brought up the melamine thing with the doc, as we did have H on Sanlu for a month (her formula she came with we could not find...Sunny Baby, and I can't find out if it is involved, even with all the awesomeness of Google). Doc basically said if the baby fails to thrive we'll look at it as a cause.
Grrrr...
And, she has a double-ear infection again...no wonder we aren't adding any more new words, or saying the ends of any of them yet! They threw out the "T" word. I hope not, I can't imagine any surgery, regardless of how minor.
Friday, September 26, 2008
Sunday, September 21, 2008
The First and Second Layers of Hell
Whap. Whap. Whap. Ow.
That was me beating my head repeatedly on the table. Yes, it took 3 whaps to cause pain...I'm thick-skulled.
So, this weekend has been awesome. P has been in Vegas with the boys, and I was scared of the alone-ness of being "it" for H for 3 days. Pffft. I shouldn't have worried. She's been great. Even today when she walked into the open back door of the car, and when she later put her tooth deep into her lip. She's been awesome. We've had Grandparents and friends over, and been apple picking and to dim sum (that one was Lisa's fault)...I knew it had to come to an end.
Come, join me, in the first two rings of Hell. Dante has nothing on me...I already know I'm headed down to the 9th layer, and I'm already bending over for the clusterfuck that is headed my way.
Here's the scene: I'm feeding H. Phone rings. H freaks (why she hates the phone, I don't know), I walk over, see "(state code) cell phone" and a # on the caller ID. Figure it's the IL's, forgetting that husband is not here. Figure it's a quick "hi, yeah, he's in Vegas...oh, yeah, you want to only talk to him...he'll be back tomorrow...bye" kinda call. So I pick up...
(Evil music)
It's her. Her, her...The SIL. The one who has no day-to-day. No. No month-to-month relationship with her brother, let alone me or my daughter. She wants to tell us ourselves, so that we don't hear from someone else (Ummmm...her parents are the only option...). She's engaged. Finally. She got her Southern Gentleman. (Sad, he's a nice guy. He doesn't deserve the crazy that comes his way now.)
First, a little history...
P and I got married over a decade a go. 2 weeks after I graduated. 1 year into his grad school. SIL did not stand up in our wedding. She was at the same University as us. MIL at the time decided to play a lot of mind-fuck games with P to see if he loved her and such because Gawd-forbid, he wanted to grow up. SIL decided to get involved (see, I deal with who I'm pissed at, and stay out of it otherwise, I'm funny like that), and play games too. So P decides she will not be in our wedding. My mother howls, SIL sobs, his parents pissed, his grandmother howls, he stands his ground. She is asked to be that odd assistant position. She refuses, cries, is hurt. But, she was at school with us and still never had a relationship with us.
We've patched up, we can deal with each other, the three of us. But we still just get emails only when the holiday season is rolling around, setting us up for the end-run email...well, tell me what you want, and I'll send you a list...if you want me to. Why we gift if we don't know what the others would like (implying a non-closeness), I don't know, but it would be a can of hell with his parents if we didn't. We actually call this congeniality a huge leap forward from the trip about 6 years ago his parents wanted us all on, and she managed to not talk to me for 2 weeks.
So back to the 21st century...here's the list of annoyances from this call:
That was me beating my head repeatedly on the table. Yes, it took 3 whaps to cause pain...I'm thick-skulled.
So, this weekend has been awesome. P has been in Vegas with the boys, and I was scared of the alone-ness of being "it" for H for 3 days. Pffft. I shouldn't have worried. She's been great. Even today when she walked into the open back door of the car, and when she later put her tooth deep into her lip. She's been awesome. We've had Grandparents and friends over, and been apple picking and to dim sum (that one was Lisa's fault)...I knew it had to come to an end.
Come, join me, in the first two rings of Hell. Dante has nothing on me...I already know I'm headed down to the 9th layer, and I'm already bending over for the clusterfuck that is headed my way.
Here's the scene: I'm feeding H. Phone rings. H freaks (why she hates the phone, I don't know), I walk over, see "(state code) cell phone" and a # on the caller ID. Figure it's the IL's, forgetting that husband is not here. Figure it's a quick "hi, yeah, he's in Vegas...oh, yeah, you want to only talk to him...he'll be back tomorrow...bye" kinda call. So I pick up...
(Evil music)
It's her. Her, her...The SIL. The one who has no day-to-day. No. No month-to-month relationship with her brother, let alone me or my daughter. She wants to tell us ourselves, so that we don't hear from someone else (Ummmm...her parents are the only option...). She's engaged. Finally. She got her Southern Gentleman. (Sad, he's a nice guy. He doesn't deserve the crazy that comes his way now.)
First, a little history...
P and I got married over a decade a go. 2 weeks after I graduated. 1 year into his grad school. SIL did not stand up in our wedding. She was at the same University as us. MIL at the time decided to play a lot of mind-fuck games with P to see if he loved her and such because Gawd-forbid, he wanted to grow up. SIL decided to get involved (see, I deal with who I'm pissed at, and stay out of it otherwise, I'm funny like that), and play games too. So P decides she will not be in our wedding. My mother howls, SIL sobs, his parents pissed, his grandmother howls, he stands his ground. She is asked to be that odd assistant position. She refuses, cries, is hurt. But, she was at school with us and still never had a relationship with us.
We've patched up, we can deal with each other, the three of us. But we still just get emails only when the holiday season is rolling around, setting us up for the end-run email...well, tell me what you want, and I'll send you a list...if you want me to. Why we gift if we don't know what the others would like (implying a non-closeness), I don't know, but it would be a can of hell with his parents if we didn't. We actually call this congeniality a huge leap forward from the trip about 6 years ago his parents wanted us all on, and she managed to not talk to me for 2 weeks.
So back to the 21st century...here's the list of annoyances from this call:
- We had to tell me it was a classy, timeless, huge, perfect ring with carat weight and everything. It's platinum too - so much better than your crappy ring, SIL.
- She tap danced around the wedding party already. I don't want to be in it, I don't care...less work and time and money for me. We aren't close...I don't expect it. I told her straight out at the beginning "do what makes you happy, and don't do anything you feel you have to."
- H is to be a flower girl of "some sort." I will be "the flower girls mommy", as she feels she won't be able to walk down the aisle alone in a year (hello, the kid can show me her shoulder at 18 months, I think she can walk a straight line sometime in '09)
- P has been un-stated as to his status
- She won't live with him before, even though she owns, and he is selling the place he shares with a relative, because she thinks...well, I don't know. But it's a slam on P and I, as his parents freaked when we lived together.
- We had to discuss every freaking cousin and if I thought they would come or not.
- She feels we should take a vacation, and leave Peanut with her (yes, the aunt that's seen her 2 days of her life). She, the one who cannot take off one day to come here for a long weekend, cause she's saving her vaca time...wants to watch her for a week. What will she do with her? Take her to work?
- She was unaware that we had started the Taiwan process. She had no idea. Apparently, my ILs didn't think this was worthy enough news to tell her. I didn't, I admit. I figured I'd send her a referral pic, but you would think they would have told her as they were just here and we discussed, as they talk to her constantly. It must not be important - they are going to get the blessed child married off, and she'll reproduce for them.
Here's where my first layer of hell is:
I spent 45 minutes of pre-bedtime doing this. And my kid did hurt herself today. And...this belongs in the list above: I was told to tell anyone "I talk to". P's family is large and nebulous...we see them maybe twice a year, and you never know who you'll see. It's more a loose confederation of people. It's not my job to tell anyone. Then, in irony, she asks me to compile a list of family addresses. Ummm...I'm not in the freaking wedding!
Then, in the 2nd level of irony to the first level of hell...she doesn't have the addresses cause she stays in no contact with these people, right? Then she bitches to me that "everyone treats her like she still lives with Mom and Dad" and she "gets 3rd hand info" because they don't think she's an adult on her own. Hello?!
- She takes every vacation with them
- She's over there (a whopping 3 minutes from her condo) all the time
- She has been overheard calling her mother "mommy" in the last few years
- If there is a group of family together, and we don't decide to go eat where she wants to eat, she pitches a fit, and starts talking only to her mother, telling her why this is unacceptable, and whining.
- After we visited, MIL sent us some pics from the visit (nice and appreciated)...SIL writes a note in the card - she can't send me her own note, or email or whatever. She has been known to give us gifts in conjunction with her parents.
In other words, she is still on the umbilical cord.
Here's my 2nd layer of hell:
She said she would like to come up and have a "meet FBIL (future Brother in law) and engagement party" for the family. So, I told her they are more than welcome to come for a few days. But, let's deconstruct her comment.
- She wants free room and board. OK, I'll give for family peace.
- She wants a ride to the other side of the city. OK, I'll suck it up.
- She prefers a party in their honor. A party that would be a bitch to plan from many states away. A party that would be most relaxing in a house. A party that she expects me to have for her, in other words.
She did not come to my wedding shower. She was given a last minute chance to come. P offered to drive 1.5 hours each way to get her there and back. She didn't take it. She did not speak to me at my wedding. She is not in our lives. I will not do this. I will fly down there and be at the wedding. I will pay for a dress and walk Peanut down the aisle. OK, skip the 10+ years of history. She did not send a single gift for H for: my shower, or her homecoming.
I know something with this whole thing is going to blow up in our faces. There will be family strife again. MIL games. Sobbing SIL, because we won't do her bidding. I know there are 7 layers more to come. I know I'll end up getting a call at some point from an IL, how it would be nice to have a party for her, how we're the closest things to sisters each of us has yada yada yada. And I know, with working as much as I do now, and having H, I don't have the time to do it, let alone the patience, and even less for the bullshit that's going to fly. But I'm going to end up sucking something up. And I'm going to feel like shit for it.
Sigh. I guess I need a glass of wine.
Thursday, September 18, 2008
Self-Discipline
Sigh...
Yesterday, H got up when I was still furiously working, due to the idiocy of the clients at Happy Workland, so I scooped her up and brought her downstairs and asked her, cause of course I expected a 17.5 month old to comply...can mama finish two more idiotic emails?! She looked at me all indignant, of course, but then the kitchen timer caught her eye...I had made her spiced apple bread while she was sleeping (my sanity saver from this work project), and it was still in the oven.
Now, I admit, I believe in discipline from the first day. We wouldn't let H put her feet on the table in China (really the only thing she challened us on), and we're still working on that. She stopped for about 4 months, but it's back. Anyways, I digress. So, she does get timeouts. For big stuff, like clocking me with a block, throwing at the cats etc. And it's only a minute - minute and a half for the Baby-Hitler stuff. I take the timer (yeah, do you see where this is going?!), and her and I sit next to each other on the bottom stair, quietly, no smacking walls etc, though there are sometimes hideous wails of indignity of course...
So yesterday, I hand her the timer, which she has never held, praying for the ability to do these last emails. I showed her how it had 4 and a half minutes left till yummys were ready. She looked at me quizically, grabbed the timer, and darted off to the front of the house.
I jumped up, sighed about my emails and ran after her. I shouldn't have worried. She was on the bottom step, sitting quietly, with the timer in her hands, quietly tapping her feet like she does, watching it count down.
It's sad when you suspect already that your kid will be quite a bit smarter than you in less than a year. And she knew she wasn't in time out, cause as soon as I looked at her and said "no, no, no" like I do for one of her books that has that line in it, she peeled out laughing.
Side note: If my mother, who remembers nothing I tell her, asks me one more time if H is injured from the baby formula (how did she remember me saying we had to use Sanlu cause the one she came with wasn't available...7 months ago?!), I'm going to scream. There's babies to worry about, mine isn't one of them. I hope these people are dealt with as severely as the Chinese system is known for...this tainting practice and the support it has in China is a danger to too many. These people need to be made an example of. My gawd...my daughter has more self-control than the people who thought this was ok.
Yesterday, H got up when I was still furiously working, due to the idiocy of the clients at Happy Workland, so I scooped her up and brought her downstairs and asked her, cause of course I expected a 17.5 month old to comply...can mama finish two more idiotic emails?! She looked at me all indignant, of course, but then the kitchen timer caught her eye...I had made her spiced apple bread while she was sleeping (my sanity saver from this work project), and it was still in the oven.
Now, I admit, I believe in discipline from the first day. We wouldn't let H put her feet on the table in China (really the only thing she challened us on), and we're still working on that. She stopped for about 4 months, but it's back. Anyways, I digress. So, she does get timeouts. For big stuff, like clocking me with a block, throwing at the cats etc. And it's only a minute - minute and a half for the Baby-Hitler stuff. I take the timer (yeah, do you see where this is going?!), and her and I sit next to each other on the bottom stair, quietly, no smacking walls etc, though there are sometimes hideous wails of indignity of course...
So yesterday, I hand her the timer, which she has never held, praying for the ability to do these last emails. I showed her how it had 4 and a half minutes left till yummys were ready. She looked at me quizically, grabbed the timer, and darted off to the front of the house.
I jumped up, sighed about my emails and ran after her. I shouldn't have worried. She was on the bottom step, sitting quietly, with the timer in her hands, quietly tapping her feet like she does, watching it count down.
It's sad when you suspect already that your kid will be quite a bit smarter than you in less than a year. And she knew she wasn't in time out, cause as soon as I looked at her and said "no, no, no" like I do for one of her books that has that line in it, she peeled out laughing.
Side note: If my mother, who remembers nothing I tell her, asks me one more time if H is injured from the baby formula (how did she remember me saying we had to use Sanlu cause the one she came with wasn't available...7 months ago?!), I'm going to scream. There's babies to worry about, mine isn't one of them. I hope these people are dealt with as severely as the Chinese system is known for...this tainting practice and the support it has in China is a danger to too many. These people need to be made an example of. My gawd...my daughter has more self-control than the people who thought this was ok.
Monday, September 15, 2008
Bulemic Homeowner
I'm the bulemic of the homeowner world...I have a need to purge sometimes. I'll go thru my house and decide there must be a trunk-load of good-will stuff and I will find it...so help me Gawd, I'll find it.
And one of the easiest ways to set off my purging, of a different sort, is to have house guests...I need to get my house back to how I had it. I don't know why, but I do. We had P's 'rents here this weekend, and I. just. need. my. house. back...
I am twitching right now that I have "only" washed their sheets, with the towels still hanging on the bars upstairs...and, and, and, I had to bathe H in the tub before I cleaned it (they only used it once, but still), as she would not take a nap today, and, the bit of time she wasn't clinging to my leg, I had to do job-work. Not that they are pigs or anything, it's just not "us." Though, I was tempted to post a picture of the faucet in H's bathroom...folks, the sponge is right there - can't you wipe off the toothpaste splatters?!?! Seriously, a bright yellow, happy looking sponge. And it's brand new, so it's not like it could give them the heebies.
And they pestered me about us coming to visit again. I asked them here for H's first Christmas...I'm off the hook. OK, here's a poll: his parents have not been to our major metropolitan area since they moved from here, back when P was in grade school. They say that it's too hard to travel over holidays...So, aren't they out-of-whack to ask us to do it?!?!
Tomorrow, I have to get the towels washed, and I have to run the dishwasher. And I have to un-mess up my fridge. Somehow things like the giant milk gallons (that only fit in one place, or so I thought for 8 years), are not where they were this morning...
But, they made the bed that had the sheets that had to be washed? Do I want to understand that logic?
And one of the easiest ways to set off my purging, of a different sort, is to have house guests...I need to get my house back to how I had it. I don't know why, but I do. We had P's 'rents here this weekend, and I. just. need. my. house. back...
I am twitching right now that I have "only" washed their sheets, with the towels still hanging on the bars upstairs...and, and, and, I had to bathe H in the tub before I cleaned it (they only used it once, but still), as she would not take a nap today, and, the bit of time she wasn't clinging to my leg, I had to do job-work. Not that they are pigs or anything, it's just not "us." Though, I was tempted to post a picture of the faucet in H's bathroom...folks, the sponge is right there - can't you wipe off the toothpaste splatters?!?! Seriously, a bright yellow, happy looking sponge. And it's brand new, so it's not like it could give them the heebies.
And they pestered me about us coming to visit again. I asked them here for H's first Christmas...I'm off the hook. OK, here's a poll: his parents have not been to our major metropolitan area since they moved from here, back when P was in grade school. They say that it's too hard to travel over holidays...So, aren't they out-of-whack to ask us to do it?!?!
Tomorrow, I have to get the towels washed, and I have to run the dishwasher. And I have to un-mess up my fridge. Somehow things like the giant milk gallons (that only fit in one place, or so I thought for 8 years), are not where they were this morning...
But, they made the bed that had the sheets that had to be washed? Do I want to understand that logic?
Friday, September 12, 2008
We're All Safe Now...the New Uniforms Arrived
Yes, folks, the GW Bush people have finally made this a safe country. I was (stupidly, stupidly) watching the local evening news last night. About the 3rd story in, they were talking about how, in honor of Sept 11, the TSA unveiled it's new uniforms, which have a new blue shirt.
Then they interviewed a few TSA people at our super-large airport. Sorry, but NOTHING has improved since Sept 11, 2001. Nothing. These are the same yahoos that, if they had done their job that day, we would not have watched the towers fall...
Anywhooooo...one of them, who can barely put a sentence together, says, and I am paraphrasing here...
"These new uniforms show how seriously we take our jobs, and how we are working really really hard to make this country safe."
Yeah, cause all terrorists are afraid of a french blue. It's like the anti-red bull cape.
Maybe if you shmucks didn't let weapons thru on a daily basis, we would take you a little more seriously.
PS Yes, Kimmons, thanks for the suggestions. We do all that stuff..., people think we're crazy at Target, and it takes us 20 minutes to load the dryer, but she finds it hysterically cool, but keep any suggestions coming please. She's a great kid, but I feel chained to the house and a life of isolation.
Then they interviewed a few TSA people at our super-large airport. Sorry, but NOTHING has improved since Sept 11, 2001. Nothing. These are the same yahoos that, if they had done their job that day, we would not have watched the towers fall...
Anywhooooo...one of them, who can barely put a sentence together, says, and I am paraphrasing here...
"These new uniforms show how seriously we take our jobs, and how we are working really really hard to make this country safe."
Yeah, cause all terrorists are afraid of a french blue. It's like the anti-red bull cape.
Maybe if you shmucks didn't let weapons thru on a daily basis, we would take you a little more seriously.
PS Yes, Kimmons, thanks for the suggestions. We do all that stuff..., people think we're crazy at Target, and it takes us 20 minutes to load the dryer, but she finds it hysterically cool, but keep any suggestions coming please. She's a great kid, but I feel chained to the house and a life of isolation.
Thursday, September 11, 2008
I'm Feeling A Bit Caged...and a fun game of "what's different"
Ok, first off, let's get the nasty out of the way. H went to her first "tot rock" class at the Park District today. Once they whipped out the balls and the bubbles, she was hooked. She didn't cling (hell, she never does out in public, just in our nice, beautiful, safe house!) and sorta interacted with the others. So that was cool. The instructor was syrupy sweet, as I expected, cause who else teaches these things?! So, I was shocked when I heard, as she told us to pack up:
"Well, I should ask some of you to dye your kids' hair by next week. We have so many blondes it's hard to tell them all apart!"
OK, fine. I'm down with that. Then she continued:
"Of course, we all already know who H is."
Gulp. Grrrr. Shock. Speechlessness.
Then, I think she attempted to uninsert foot. She goes on:
"Well, not that different is bad. You're a redhead, you are probably used to looking different. It's just different, not good or bad."
I'm a redhead, and I have that temper. I'm alternating between royally pissed off, and feeling bad for this chick who's probably sweating her job if I call in on this. Would she have said this if H was from Ethiopia? Or if I had a missing limb? But I'm mad, cause the redhead thing got to me. I remember feeling like shit being the strawberry shortcake of class. I hated the taunts/knicknames. And I was "with" the majority, in my whiteness.
I want to teach H to shrug it off, to be able to tell the other people to get over their inhibitions, but obviously a 17 month old can't get that yet. I mean, WTF, why teach these 12-20 monthers to look for the Asian kid?
On to other topics....
I'm feeling a bit isolated right now. OK, a lot isolated. I miss my former life, minus the not having the awesome kid part. H is firmly down to one nap, which is cool, though she's cranky at the end of each awake period, but it makes life so much easier, one naptime routine a day. But, the nap takes up the whole early afternoon (I know, I'm biting the hand that feeds me here.), and doing anything has become a giant deal. She has a short span in the morning to do anything, maybe a run to target or some such thing up the street, or a short walk. She is irritable in the a.m., so big stuff isn't a good idea. But by the time you get her up and having her 2nd lunch, it's 3pm! And dinner is at 6.
It was cold here early this week, icky wet cold. I'm starting to dread the winter. I fear that I'm going to go bonkers locked in this house. I miss seeing adults, having adult conversations, even being able to go try on some dumb-ass jeans that are cut to sit waaaaay too low so they never ever will fit me...gulp...I miss work meetings, thinking of something else other than how to teach her to rotate the triangle to fit into the shape-sorter. I feel like I'm on a gerbil wheel of sleep routines, diaper changes and reading board books. (Which I do love, just not for 6 hours a day, cause I love her snuggling into my lap.) I work while she naps, or, if that's done, do chores. I'm at the grocery store too much (we used to go once every 2 weeks, which is not possible with a child that eats an acre of fresh fruit a day, and a husband who has no skin in keeping the shopping list up to date now that he doesn't go shopping.) I feel like I've lost the identity of anything but H's mama. I love that identity. But I want it to be one of my facets, not my only one.
It doesn't help that I have a lot of friends who are doing "their own thing" right now...one is planning a wedding, one is working so hard to find a job, and I feel for her, she's hurting bad right now. A lot are also just-homes, or painfully waiting to go. Another one has family issues. Many of them this year even didn't remember my birthday. Between their major life events and my falling off the radar of daily life, I'm sitting her kinda alone.
I know this'll pass, and a lot of you out there want to bitch-slap me for my whininess. But, it's what I feel. Even though I'm not someone y'all will ever know IRL, I try to be honest.
So, go ahead, bitch-slap me back into thankfulness...I can take it.
"Well, I should ask some of you to dye your kids' hair by next week. We have so many blondes it's hard to tell them all apart!"
OK, fine. I'm down with that. Then she continued:
"Of course, we all already know who H is."
Gulp. Grrrr. Shock. Speechlessness.
Then, I think she attempted to uninsert foot. She goes on:
"Well, not that different is bad. You're a redhead, you are probably used to looking different. It's just different, not good or bad."
I'm a redhead, and I have that temper. I'm alternating between royally pissed off, and feeling bad for this chick who's probably sweating her job if I call in on this. Would she have said this if H was from Ethiopia? Or if I had a missing limb? But I'm mad, cause the redhead thing got to me. I remember feeling like shit being the strawberry shortcake of class. I hated the taunts/knicknames. And I was "with" the majority, in my whiteness.
I want to teach H to shrug it off, to be able to tell the other people to get over their inhibitions, but obviously a 17 month old can't get that yet. I mean, WTF, why teach these 12-20 monthers to look for the Asian kid?
On to other topics....
I'm feeling a bit isolated right now. OK, a lot isolated. I miss my former life, minus the not having the awesome kid part. H is firmly down to one nap, which is cool, though she's cranky at the end of each awake period, but it makes life so much easier, one naptime routine a day. But, the nap takes up the whole early afternoon (I know, I'm biting the hand that feeds me here.), and doing anything has become a giant deal. She has a short span in the morning to do anything, maybe a run to target or some such thing up the street, or a short walk. She is irritable in the a.m., so big stuff isn't a good idea. But by the time you get her up and having her 2nd lunch, it's 3pm! And dinner is at 6.
It was cold here early this week, icky wet cold. I'm starting to dread the winter. I fear that I'm going to go bonkers locked in this house. I miss seeing adults, having adult conversations, even being able to go try on some dumb-ass jeans that are cut to sit waaaaay too low so they never ever will fit me...gulp...I miss work meetings, thinking of something else other than how to teach her to rotate the triangle to fit into the shape-sorter. I feel like I'm on a gerbil wheel of sleep routines, diaper changes and reading board books. (Which I do love, just not for 6 hours a day, cause I love her snuggling into my lap.) I work while she naps, or, if that's done, do chores. I'm at the grocery store too much (we used to go once every 2 weeks, which is not possible with a child that eats an acre of fresh fruit a day, and a husband who has no skin in keeping the shopping list up to date now that he doesn't go shopping.) I feel like I've lost the identity of anything but H's mama. I love that identity. But I want it to be one of my facets, not my only one.
It doesn't help that I have a lot of friends who are doing "their own thing" right now...one is planning a wedding, one is working so hard to find a job, and I feel for her, she's hurting bad right now. A lot are also just-homes, or painfully waiting to go. Another one has family issues. Many of them this year even didn't remember my birthday. Between their major life events and my falling off the radar of daily life, I'm sitting her kinda alone.
I know this'll pass, and a lot of you out there want to bitch-slap me for my whininess. But, it's what I feel. Even though I'm not someone y'all will ever know IRL, I try to be honest.
So, go ahead, bitch-slap me back into thankfulness...I can take it.
Thursday, September 4, 2008
Uncle! Uncle!
Please....stop. Please, I give in. I'll do anything, just make it stop.
Ok? You want me to admit some stuff? OK.
Agree to do some stuff? OK. I'll do that too.
I'll put the soccer ball sticker on the back of a new minivan, which I will purchase in silver, if not available in beige.
I'll put away all my cool, beautiful, hand made - and even the extravagant-easy-to-buy-and-she'll-love-it jewlery. I'll break down and get one gold plated necklace that is a birthstone necklace of my kid. I'll wear it every day, with little gold ball earrings, and that's it. I'll even get too lazy to put on my wedding ring most days.
I'll give up all my beautiful shoes and buy one pair of ugly-ass but comfy shoes. Never mind that I pay good money for my beauties so that they feel good too. I understand now.
I'll give up chocolate.
I'll grow my hair long enough to end up in a pony tail at the base of my neck. I will do no more than wash and wear it.
I'll throw away all nail polish...it only goes on my toes anymore anyways.
I'll have long discussions about the awesomeness of swiffers...or swifters, whatever the hell they are called. I'll make that my first discussion.
I will come up with some annoying phrase that I say to my kid in public when she's misbehaving, one that only further annoys the people who have had to listen to her temper tantrum already.
I agree to all of the above. In exchange, please let my one-size-bigger-than-the-rest-of-me ass find one lone pair of jeans that fit them. Even if they are mommy-jeans...I'll submit to that. I will change over to the whole loss of my own identity, if I can have one damn pair of jeans that fit me without having 10 extra inches in the waist. Just make the trauma of trying these things on stop. Hello, wasn't Marilyn Monroe built like this (if only I could have the rack to go with it!)? And Jean Harlow? WTF? Apparently no one has hips in this world anymore except me.
Where do I find a good pair of mommy jeans?
Ok? You want me to admit some stuff? OK.
Agree to do some stuff? OK. I'll do that too.
I'll put the soccer ball sticker on the back of a new minivan, which I will purchase in silver, if not available in beige.
I'll put away all my cool, beautiful, hand made - and even the extravagant-easy-to-buy-and-she'll-love-it jewlery. I'll break down and get one gold plated necklace that is a birthstone necklace of my kid. I'll wear it every day, with little gold ball earrings, and that's it. I'll even get too lazy to put on my wedding ring most days.
I'll give up all my beautiful shoes and buy one pair of ugly-ass but comfy shoes. Never mind that I pay good money for my beauties so that they feel good too. I understand now.
I'll give up chocolate.
I'll grow my hair long enough to end up in a pony tail at the base of my neck. I will do no more than wash and wear it.
I'll throw away all nail polish...it only goes on my toes anymore anyways.
I'll have long discussions about the awesomeness of swiffers...or swifters, whatever the hell they are called. I'll make that my first discussion.
I will come up with some annoying phrase that I say to my kid in public when she's misbehaving, one that only further annoys the people who have had to listen to her temper tantrum already.
I agree to all of the above. In exchange, please let my one-size-bigger-than-the-rest-of-me ass find one lone pair of jeans that fit them. Even if they are mommy-jeans...I'll submit to that. I will change over to the whole loss of my own identity, if I can have one damn pair of jeans that fit me without having 10 extra inches in the waist. Just make the trauma of trying these things on stop. Hello, wasn't Marilyn Monroe built like this (if only I could have the rack to go with it!)? And Jean Harlow? WTF? Apparently no one has hips in this world anymore except me.
Where do I find a good pair of mommy jeans?
Monday, September 1, 2008
So you have to vote for someone who's not a white male...
OK, I'm pissed off. I'm pissed off that this is even something that someone would think is a tactic that would win. I'm pissed off that someone would be so desperate as to pull this. If you can't win unless you do this, then, honestly, you have no god-damn right running the "leader of the free world."
Seriously? A first time govenor from AK, with no experience? And your peeps say it's because you have all the experience? (Oh, the sick hubris of that statement!) Ummmm....dude? First off, no one has one brain good enough to run this country on his own. Otherwise, we'd have had a dictatorship for a few centuries. Secondly? You are a nice enough guy, but you are in your 70's with a history of cancer. Verstehen Sie?!
But, if this is true, then the only reason you picked this woman is because she is a woman? That's sexism in a way, isn't it? You wanted to pick up the disillunsioned "hillary" vote. Pathetic. Sad. Infuriating.
And it really pisses me off that it will work with some people.
And it pisses me off that this woman, who is supposed to herald a jump is women's equality, is playing this game. That she is willing to be apparently used like this...isn't that really a step backwards for all of us bra-wearers?
Folks, it's wrong to vote for someone just because he is black or she is white or he is a paraplegic or whatever. It's just as wrong as voting for the other guy because you don't want a hispanic/gay/jewish/whatever. It's racist. It's saying that whatever this person is, whatever they stand for doesn't matter, that because of how they look, they are better than the other person. What matters is what's in their jeans and shirt - period. And that should never ever be why we pick someone for a friend, an enemy, or a President.
Shame on you McCain. Shame on you for your arrogance. And shame on all the women out there that this will work on. Vote with your eyes closed, and your mind and heart open.
Seriously? A first time govenor from AK, with no experience? And your peeps say it's because you have all the experience? (Oh, the sick hubris of that statement!) Ummmm....dude? First off, no one has one brain good enough to run this country on his own. Otherwise, we'd have had a dictatorship for a few centuries. Secondly? You are a nice enough guy, but you are in your 70's with a history of cancer. Verstehen Sie?!
But, if this is true, then the only reason you picked this woman is because she is a woman? That's sexism in a way, isn't it? You wanted to pick up the disillunsioned "hillary" vote. Pathetic. Sad. Infuriating.
And it really pisses me off that it will work with some people.
And it pisses me off that this woman, who is supposed to herald a jump is women's equality, is playing this game. That she is willing to be apparently used like this...isn't that really a step backwards for all of us bra-wearers?
Folks, it's wrong to vote for someone just because he is black or she is white or he is a paraplegic or whatever. It's just as wrong as voting for the other guy because you don't want a hispanic/gay/jewish/whatever. It's racist. It's saying that whatever this person is, whatever they stand for doesn't matter, that because of how they look, they are better than the other person. What matters is what's in their jeans and shirt - period. And that should never ever be why we pick someone for a friend, an enemy, or a President.
Shame on you McCain. Shame on you for your arrogance. And shame on all the women out there that this will work on. Vote with your eyes closed, and your mind and heart open.
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