Evaluations

I received them yesterday.  As luck would have it, they came in the mail on WEDNESDAY but the butthead mailman put them in my neighbor's mailbox.  I saw them sitting in my neighbors mailbox but what could I do? Insert curse word right here.

They weren't as bad as I thought they'd be.  I mean... I expected that everyone I worked with/for was going to tell me how bad I sucked.  In reality, only one individual- the par*tner in the office next to mine- said negative things.  It's pretty clear that he just thinks I'm coasting along, which I guess I am.  But it sucks to see that I've been found out by someone.  I felt like he had beef with me all along- never once did he make an effort to "mentor" me (he was my assigned mentor at the f*irm).  Every time I left at 5 to pick up Monk, he'd stare at me from his desk.  He asked me to work with him like once, and then I got pregnant and then never again.  The odd thing is that he said, "She never wrote any articles."  But... I wrote an article with HIM in February... so I'm a little confused.  I'm tempted to email him and ask why that article doesn't count, but... I'm learning I'm just not cut throat enough for any of this stuff.  Maybe I don't want it bad enough.


When I called J crying about the things he said in my review, J emailed a female part*ner he works for and really likes who has 4 children.  She responded to him that she would love to speak with me about this great balance of being a l*awyer and mother simultaneously if I felt comfortable.  I really don't, but her email made me feel like I wasn't hormonal or lazy in my feeling that things aren't working out.  She said that after her first was born, she entered a certain type of law because she knew that in order for their household to work (her husband is also a l*awyer) at least one of them- her or her husband- needed a predictable and flexible schedule; otherwise their lives would be in shambles. She told him that it doesn't seem like I am working with l*awyers who prioritize f*amily (I don't) and that the only thing that saved her was the type of law she was in and the fact that the l*awyers she worked with let her go part-time and respected her part-time schedule (most l*awyers who go part-time are pressured into working full time schedules anyway).  In the back of my mind, I have this little voice that keeps telling me, 'You are spoiled and lazy- tons of people want your job and you are just taking it for granted.  If you quit you will be in the breadline and will be letting down your family.  If you realized how lucky you were, then you would deal with the unpredictability and sacrifice time with your children.'  I haven't sacrificed any time with Monkey since I started and I do not regret that for one moment, but I do feel like that is why I'm not a superstar l*awyer.   So there you have my own personal "para*de of horribl*es."  When I say this to J out loud he responds, 'You are crazy.'  Which is exactly the response I want.  Because it feels crazy when I let my mind wander down that path of "what-ifs."  I definitely have issues with accepting things that are out of my control and trying to control everything.  I always feel like, 'Well if I would have done X or Y then I would be in this great position and I CAN do X and Y.'   My brothers are the opposite of me: they don't stress about career stuff.  I mean, they're not exactly bringing in the dough, but they are a hell of a lot less stressed out than I am.  My little brother used to keep a sign on his wall in his bedroom that basically said, 'There's no point in worrying about yesterday because it's gone and it's never coming back.  There's no point in worrying about tomorrow since you can't do anything about tomorrow until tomorrow becomes today.  So your only worries should involve today.'  And I think the guy really internalized it because he's the most relaxed person I know. 

So I felt better after J forwarded me his co-worker's email and after J called me repeatedly to have me look on the brightside, but I didn't get much sleep the night before, so I needed a nap and a few more hours to pity myself before I put on my big girl panties and got over it.


So there you have it.  The reviews I've dreaded since last year's reviews. 

I remember back when I worked at that terrible job (actually, the job wasn't terrible, but my immediate supervisor was a micro-manager which was really hard to deal with- btw, I was informed that she was finally fired.) I was so nervous about my review.  In that job, I deserved a really bad review- I sat on the internet all day long and emailed my friends.  We all had dead end jobs and a lot of time to kill on the job.  But, in retrospect, I didn't have anything to do.  I was a receptionist and if nobody is calling... wtf, ya know?  But, I FELT like I should have received bad reviews for not, like, being enthusiastic enough.   Me and this woman had had it out many times- she accused me of having a bad attitude (I had a terrible attitude) and I accused her of micromanaging and being impossible to please/work for.  I mean, it shouldn't have been hard: one of my main duties was taking the mail across the street and distributing the day's mail to the rest of the people in the office.  She freaked out every day because I never would put the mail in the right place; yet, I put the mail in the place she told me to put the mail.  She would get angry and either say, "I never told you that" or "Well, I change my mind!"  I mean... I felt like I was working in a funhouse.  A very not fun funhouse.  Anyway, my boss asked where I wanted to eat and I said "Panera" thinking we could be in and out.  It was torture.  Waiting for lunchtime, walking down to get lunch, ordering, small talk.  Literally torture.  I ordered chicken noodle soup and an apple: I had no appetite.  We sat down and she said to me, '99% of success is just showing up.  I can always count on you to come to work and to be on time.  You are doing very well.'  It was like a total mindf*ck.  I couldn't believe my ears.  And then I was like, 'Maybe this lady isn't so bad.'  But of course, the next morning a half hour after I put her mail in her "inbox," she came out to my desk and said, 'Umm.. M? Why did you put my mail in my inbox?' and the games continued....

I am in touch with pretty much everyone else who worked in the office with that lady and she went through multiple receptionists after me, which makes me feel like it wasn't me.  Not feeling successful at work - even when your job is straight up stupid- really screws with your self-esteem.

My current position included.  Well, especially, my current position as it is my chosen profession.  Laugh.  Anyway, apparently my lack of confidence is palpable because the female lawyer who has kids (the only other one in the office) wrote on my review that I need to have more confidence in my work- because I DO know what I am doing and I do it well.  And before I left, the stripper secretary (who I freaking love and miss every day) came into my office and told me that it isn't me: that the 2 attorneys who worked in my position under the people I work for before me left after only a few years: they couldn't handle the feast or famine aspect of this particular position and left.  One went to a smaller f*rm and then eventually to a corporation and is very happy and the other returned to his prior work as a bank*ruptcy l*awyer.  I didn't even tell her I thought it was me.  I'm like meek at work, I guess.  Not hot.  Not hot at all. 

On that note, Monkey is about to wake up from her nap.  And H*llary probably is too.  And I was hoping to shower and work out at this time, but instead I chose to sit here for 45 minutes and pour my heart out to a website.  This morning I was wondering why I do this but then I realized it's because I like it.

Baby Poop

H*llary poops more than any other baby on the face of the earth.  Every time I change her diaper there is poop and without fail, she wakes from sleep, sees that I am changing her diap & starts pooping again.  Monkey was never a prolific pooper, though.  She errs on the side of constipation.  Aren't you glad to know this?

ANYWAY.

Member that list I had awhile back? It had like pictures you took, pics of you, blah blah blah.  Well I never finished it because I got pregnant and stuff so I'll finish it right now rather than do something productive because I've been really productive on this maternity leave and I'm kind of sick of it.

Day 19 - a talent of yours- I am very good at drawing.  This is pretty useless.  I'm also good at remembering stories people tell me.
Day 20 - a hobby of yours- Blogging? Surfing the internet? Reading? Procreating?
Day 21 - a recipe- Tuna salad from the Joy of Cooking- can of tuna, 1/4 cup mayonnaise, diced onions (a lot), 1 tablespoon of parsley, a little bit of salt.  I also dice bread & butter pickle chips and put them into the tuna salad.  Then I take those sandwich thins and spread tuna on the top of them.  Then we sprinkle diced tomatoes and mozz cheese on top and bake it in the oven.  J & I have this for dinner probably once a week.  Every time I eat it, I think about the mercury content of tuna and it bums me out.
Day 22 - a website- I love amazon, although I recently heard that at their warehouses they are inhumane to their employees (who never technically become employees but remain temp workers).  This is f*cked up and I'm contemplating boycotting amazon. Perhaps I will boycott it this Xmas.
Day 23 - a youtube video          Monkey's is this one: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IwVo5E04CVQ&feature=related     She loves it so much that she is going to be a bumble bee for Halloween.)  I confess that I watch videos of beagle pupp*ies way more than a self-respecting 29 year old female should.
Day 24 - where I live-   I think it's the 2nd smallest state.
Day 25 - your day, in great detail   This is easy. H*llary was up to eat at like 5am.  I fed her.  We both fell back asleep.  Then she got up again at like 6:45 and I fed her some more.  Then J said, "Just saw Monkey's head pop up on the monitor."  And he went to get her.  Then Monkey and J came back in the room and Monkey brought me every book in her room and scattered them all over the bedroom floor.  Every time I tried to read with her she said, 'No, mama, no.'  Then we all went down to get coffee/ Monkey's bfast.  J & Monk let out the dogs, I put the baby in a seat, I poured Cheerios on Monkey's tray and got her some mandarin oranges (she eats bfast at daycare also) and got her milk.  We sat there watching youtube videos of Elmo ("Melmo").  Got Monk dressed (white v-neck, brown leggings, olive green chuck taylors), sent her off to school.  I've been intermittently (and simultaneously) reading Bl*eak House and feeding H*llary all day long stopping occasionally to respond to emails and/or text messages.  I ate lunch around 1130. I had a hot pocket.  I've checked the mailbox 2x looking for my annual review from work which hasn't come yet. I read some more.  Fed the baby some more.  Changed a few diapers.  Emptied the dishwasher. Descaled our coffee machine.  Put the dog bedding in the washing machine.  Gave the golden some hugs. Showered.  Brushed my teeth.  Put on underwear and a tank top.  Now I'm blogging in my underwear and tank top.
Day 26 - your week, in great detail - see above except yesterday Monkey was home all day with me, which was wonderful, and a childhood friend came to visit and we hung out and took my gals on a walk after Monkey insisted. It was fun.
Day 27 - my worst habit - I have a habit of being insensitive.  I have a tendency to think that others are just overly sensitive.  Maybe this is an even worse habit: making excuses for my bad behavior. zing.
Day 28 - whats in my handbag/purse.  Can I just say I'm one of those chicks with a terribly messy purse and leave it at that? I have diapers in there, pen caps, loose change, sand, wallet, keys, probably a baby shoe, a checkbook (or worse- an empty checkbook), receipts, coupons- all floating around freely.  No matter how hard I try....for a long while I was toting around a pair of my underwear after I had the baby because I went into the hospital that day thinking I would be leaving shortly.  Instead I left with a baby wearing a pair of netted granny panties and a huge pad.  Surprise!
Day 29 - hopes,dreams and plans for the next 365 days- Not to beat a dead horse but I would really like to find contentment in my working life. Maybe some kind of work-home balance.  Sooner rather than later. 
Day 30 - a dream for the future- See Day 29.  And, generically, I want my daughters to make good choices in life.  I started a long rant about how I don't want them to compromise themselves by engaging in three*somes and stuff, but at the risk of sounding judgey, I deleted it.  See? I am trying to rid myself of my bad habit of insensitivity.

Uninspired

I'm not sure if it's the fact that the most hours (?? this doesn't sound correct, but whatever) I've slept in a row in 4 weeks is 3.5 OR if it's the fact that my labor came suddenly and I left my laptop at work and still haven't gone to get it because that means I'd have to go in with the baby (the staff would freak out if I came without the baby) and then spend a great deal of time socializing and chatting about baby stuff and labor, etc.. so I haven't been having my drink of the night while sitting on my lap top a la evenings of yore.  I generally have been blobbing, if you will, after J leaves for work.  For the record, my drinks of the night have been pumpkin ales.  Fall beer never disappoints.

Anyway, as I am a stay-at-home-mom ("SAHM") for about 5 months or so, I've been sort of trying on the role as if it were for keeps:  as I've never been a SAHM- and I'm sort of cheating as Monkey is in daycare part-time, which we would not be able to afford if I were truly a SAHM.  She'd probably be in nursery school or something on some mornings and I'd pick her up at 11 or whatever.  I don't know how nursery school works, but I assume it's in a church?  Mine was.

Back to my point: I've been trying to keep up with the house work, grocery shopping, exercising (lightly- against my doctor's wishes, but I have been avoiding ab exercises and intense cardio so I feel justified), taking care of a newborn and dealing with our mail- which is a full time job in and of itself.  Some things I've learned these past 4 weeks:

1. With children and a newborn and a husband who for some reason refuses to place his empty cans/bottles/anything that is recyclable INTO the recycling bin as opposed to just leaving it on the counter (which I find very mysterious.... I mean... as he SETS the empty water bottle on the island in our kitchen instead of walking 3 steps over to our recycling bin and tossing it carelessly in, what goes through his mind?  Next time he brings up how terrible I am at loading the dishwasher, I have to remember to bring this up.  Although he won't bring up my dishwasher-loading habits because the last time he did about 5 months ago I turned to him and said, 'Listen to me.  For the rest of our lives, I don't want you to ever mention to me how I load the dishwasher again.  Because it doesn't.  f*cking.  matter.'  Wife of the year over here, right?  All that hoo-ha about taking your husband's feelings and concerns seriously? FAIL!  Haha,  no really.  I did say that because he already has me practically wash the dish before I even load it - he doesn't just rinse, he like scrubs the dishes before they go in- so the fact that I am even loading what is pretty much a clean dish into the dishwasher is, in my mind, ridiculous. If he wants me to load it by color or some other crazy calculated method, I'm going to start slipping OCD meds into his morning coffee.  I'm a lot of things- OCD ain't one of them.  This is why I overlook his refusal to chuck his recyclables into the recycling bin.  It would be a double standard, I guess.  Actually, it wouldn't, but he's been really good about not mentioning the dishwasher, and I know he probably hates me a little more each time he looks into the dishwasher and sees that I've loaded it improperly.).  Back to my bullet point- CLEAN HOUSE- as in not cluttered?  IMPOSSIBLE!  If I fret over every room looking perfect, I'm going to have a long and miserable life ahead of me filled with feelings of failure and disarray.  At least until my children are able to clean up after themselves. Which might not be long from now- yesterday I caught Monkey going through J's drawer, picking out receipts (?) and putting them in the toilet. 

2.  If you want to work out along with keep on top of house stuff? There aren't enough hours in the day if you want to do it all before your husband gets home from work or your child returns from daycare.

3.  I kind of miss using my "work" side of the brain- but this can easily be fulfilled by reading a few lengthy NYT articles or reading Bl*eak House, which I have been reading for a little over a month now (or so, not sure... had to take a break the first few weeks of H*llary's life due to exhaustion, etc...).

4.  But mostly I just miss socializing at work....

5.  But not enough to want to go back to that hellhole.  Seriously, this break was all I needed to reassure myself that I need a new job.  Not that I didn't know that already.  It's not even the actual work that stressed me out- it was the culture, the atmosphere of workaholics who hate their jobs and their lives.  It's a totally toxic environment.  I mean, it totally blows to have to start job hunting in an economy where all the news is "NOBODY HAS A F*CKING JOB, ESPECIALLY NOT L*WYERS" but I refuse to succumb to this negativity.  While many average joes do not have jobs, if you look at the actual statistics, this economic climate is mostly hurting inner city african american men.  I'm none of those things.  So I'm not going to use that as my excuse for idleness and hopelessness.  I will remain hopeful and optimistic.  Even if it takes me years and years to find a job.  Don't get me wrong- I'm not quitting.  But I get my reviews back shortly and I have a feeling they will be asking me to leave!!! EEKS!  I will keep you posted. And you may need to remind me of my vow to remain positive.  My blessed 2 or 3 readers, you of all people know how unhappy I've been at this job.  I pray that (1) I am not stuck there forever and (2) if/when I am set free that I can find a job that I like that pays me enough to pay for childcare and also the minimum (at least) on my student loans.

I suppose this could be my new year's resolution. Remember last year's? More social events I believe were on the agenda. We had 2 parties.  Perhaps I will throw a Xmas rager or something to feel like my resolution was fulfilled.  Oh, the other one? An E-Z pass. Never got one.  Now I feel like a real loser.

Other resolutions:


2. "To try to be a LITTLE bit more organized. I mean, everyone is like, 'To be a working mom the key is organization' blah blah blah. But I'm gonna give it a go."  This only happened when I went on maternity leave.  At this moment, I am very organized.  But it is directly tied to the fact that at this very moment, I am technically NOT a "working mom."  I am f*cked upon my return to work.

4. "Crush my thoughts of death."  With the help of medication, I have been mostly successful at this.  Although I do have a tendency to not go places because I am afraid of my kids driving in cars.  Yesterday J said, 'Do you want me to take Monkey on errands with me so you can rest?'  I said, 'No.'  In fairness, this was partially because I wanted to hang out with her, give her lunch and put her down for a nap.  But if I am completely honest with you, dear blog, I was afraid they would get into a car accident and the idea of her not driving around in a car yesterday soothed me.  Did I say I was mostly successful at this?  Well.... I take that back.  I am still a lunatic.


5. "I would like to be more generous of a person as well."  I have been more generous, but I want to continue to try to be more generous.  I realized that I lot of my "not generosity" was tied to my disorganization.  Example: Often forget my mom's bday gift.  This wasn't thriftiness but complete and utter disorganization/forgetfulness.  I would forget her bday until it was too late and then my life would zoom on like a jet engine and I would forget to ever get her one. 


 Man.. this blog entry is making me feel hopeless and depressed about resuming my life as a working mother in the future. I have to focus on the positive: socialization, the hope of one day finding a job/career that I truly enjoy going to and that keeps me busy- but not so busy that I completely forget my own beloved mother's birthday.

On to brighter topics that involve little-to-no introspection: MIL. So, as I reported, my mom dropped the bomb that she wants Tgiving on Tgiving.  Usually we do my dad's the Saturday before, J's fam on Tgiving and my mom the Saturday after.  So I tell her I will run it by J.  I contact Good SIL and ask her what up.  She says they are going to her in-laws so won't be there.  J is like, 'Ok, my family is sort of doing their own thing anyway, Tgiving at your mom's is fine.'  J tells his mom that we're a no-go for Tgiving but we'll be around the Friday after and the Saturday after, etc... for leftovers to see Evil SIL or whoever else is there. Then within the next 2 days, MIL appears to have planned like the Tgiving celebration of all Tgiving celebrations.  Complete with long lost relatives that J would love to see, Good SIL changing her plans and everything.   How did we find this out?  MIL CC's both of us on every email involving their Tgiving plans.  Umm... why the eff are you CC'ing us on your plans if you KNOW that our plans and your plans do not coincide? So what do I do? Being the hormonal female, I call up J and say, 'Look. Let's just do Tgiving at your parents.  Obviously this is what you want.'  J is understandably confused by my estrogen-fueled aggression and responds, 'That isn't what I want.  I don't care what my mom is doing for Tgiving.  I don't know why she is sending us those emails but it is pissing me off.'  I said, 'Is it intentional?'  He said, 'I would like to think that it isn't.'  And then he sent me a text saying, 'Don't think about it.  I'm not.'  Of course, I kept thinking about it.  Man...I feel bad for J!


Then they invited us over to din at their place last night.  She was on her very best behavior (perhaps knowing what a tool she had been? Unclear.).  The only annoying thing she said to me was, 'How does it feel to be the mother of 2 girls?' in a gross baby voice.  I wanted to vomit.

Holidays

Whilst administering bottle to my 2nd born questa matina, I was watching some morning "newsmagazine" (I hate this term, btw).  The segment? Christmas decorations are out.  Hold on... wait for it... WHO CARES, right?  I totally dig Xmas decor and if they had frosty out all year long, I would be super happy.  Like those neighbors that everyone hates who leave their inflatable Santa in their yard through February?  Love them. They make me feel the Christmas spirit in the depths of the dark winter months. God Bless Them.

Anyway, anxiety was stirred up in my soul.  Why?  Why do you think?  It got me thinking about my in-laws and subjecting my dear children to their hoodlum cousins who like to touch themselves and tickle Monkey in questionable places and eat her food and don't give her personal space and try to carry her.  My blood pressure f*cking skyrockets when I even see PICTURES of these a$$holes (ages 4 and 6, respectively- just to shed some light onto how freaking unbelievably immature I am in calling seriously young children a$$holes).  Good SIL informed me on the phone the other night that the 6 year old boy is now on ADHD medication.  I noticed this at the family reunion because his gaze never left the television set the entire time- which is exactly how I like him.  As for the 4 year old girl?  Not so much.  Good SIL always says, 'F-- is OBSESSED with Monkey.  Talks about her all the time, wants to buy her gifts.'  I think this is really cute.  I appreciate that she loves her cousin.  My only wish is that she would chill the eff out and give Monkey some personal space and, in turn, Monkey's mother some peace of mind.  And stop touching her on or around her diaper because...umm... that feels like molestation to me.  I am anxious about how I will closely police Monk's cousins around Monkey while simultaneously administering to and protecting H*llary- who will no doubt be the object of some irritating cousin's affection.

All of this policing lies on my shoulders alone because... ain't nobody else doing any policing.  We have Good SIL who doesn't see the harm in her children molesting my children.  We have BIL who is too busy grilling or watching sports or drinking scotch.  If he happens to catch one of his kids doing something obnoxious, he gives a holler, they stop and then he returns to what he was doing and his kids return to being bad.  Example: F (the 4 year old girl) made fun of how Monkey pronounces "Thank you."  She says, 'Dan-doo'  And, my friends, coming from her mother, it couldn't be cuter.  First of all- she has manners.  This is more than I can say for her cousins.  Second of all, she was 18 months.  So excuse her incorrect pronunciation.  The 4 year old started laughing hysterically and making fun of her pronunciation.  The killer? Monkey realized she was being mocked.  She stopped speaking and just stared at F who was going, 'Ahh hahahahahaha DAN DOO. AHHHAHAHAHA why does she say it like that?'  I WANTED to say, 'Hey, F- why whenever you are wearing a dress or skirt do you pin your legs behind your head and give everyone a freaking crotch shot?  Don't you realize that we're trying to EAT?  And why, when you do us the courtesy of putting your legs back down, do you stick your hands down your underwear to do God-knows-what?  And then not wash your hands before grabbing our children, our food, our children's food, etc...?'  I didn't say this though, of course.  I simply said, 'F.  She is 18 months old.  Don't make fun of her.  We are encouraging her to talk.'

BIL heard me say this, looked over and said, 'F... be nice, okay?'

I know.  I am a total helicopter mom.  At my own family functions or when I get her together with her friend who is her age from daycare, I am not.  I just am weary of older children who aren't old enough to realize that she is really small.

Anyway, MIL will occasionally see the kids acting up or grabbing my baby on the face and say something totally air-headed like, 'Is F allowed to stick her fingers in Monkey's eyes?'  To which I will respond, "NO!  Make her stop."  And then MIL will say, 'Okay.  I didn't think so, but I wanted to be sure.'  And then will say gently, 'F.  Don't do that.'  And F will promptly ignore her and continue to poke my baby's eyes til I grab baby from MIL.  It's like I'm surrounded by incompetence.

J is my freaking ally.  Numero uno.  He yells at those hoodlums more than anyone and protects Monkey like crazy.  HOWEVER, it is his family function and him and his dad (and often BIL) are often enjoying a glass of vino and in deep conversation about something that I would like to be apart of but am too busy saving the life of our child.

J pulled through hardcore at the fam reunion- the 6 yr old boy was kicking a soccer ball AT Monkey who was standing innocently in the grass.  J was yammering on to his dad. I screamed to J, "J!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!  WATCH THE BALL!!!!  N (6 yr old) IS KICKING IT AT MONKEY!!!"  Frankly, I didn't care who hated me at that point, as I was too busy hating them.  J intercepts the ball and kicks it directly at the 6 year old.  It hit the 6 year old in the stomach- not hard but hard enough to make a point.  The 6 year old said, 'Ow...' To which J responded, 'How did that feel?  Stop kicking the ball at Monkey.' 

Anyway, because J is usually lost in conversation for a great deal of this time, he has no clue how dangerous and stressful his family's holidays are for me since we have had children.  Previously, I would just get tanked and try to hide from Evil SIL.  Now I'm sober and saving lives. 

So when my mom asked yesterday, 'Can I have T-giving on T-giving this year instead of the Saturday after?' I got scared.  I was hoping to dodge his family's Xmas, which is usually a sleepover.  If we give my mom T-giving, we will have to give his family Xmas.   This, my friends, is bad news.

Nighttime

Since J and I became an item, many routines in my life changed.  One aspect is my relationship to the nighttime, and this is something I miss and am reminded of at odd times like last night during an 8:00pm trip to the convenience store to pick up baby supplies.  Driving through our urban-esque suburbs (but I pretend they're legit suburbs), I could hear crickets and I saw a young couple finishing up a run and walking while holding hands.  I saw an older man riding his bike and I saw some people walking home from either happy hour or dinner or somewhere social that required non-lounge clothes.  It was the first night I had been out and felt like maybe it was cold enough to wear more than shorts and a tank top and flip flops.

J and I were/are definitely night owls, but when we'd actually go outside we'd either be drunk (ahh, young love.. actually... we still enjoy vino.. but these days we enjoy it on the couch watching a movie).  And I feel like being drunk detracts from my ability to appreciate the peacefulness of the evening.

As I've detailed on this blog before, my friend Jesus and I were the queens of sober entertainment.  Going for late night runs every night in high school, or to the gym, or studying at diners, or going to the movies.  She was my straight-edge boyfriend.  So nighttime always reminds me of her.  And then I miss her.  But it's not like I miss her, but I miss who we used to be together (even though I absolutely love my life at this point in time- this is a disclaimer, btw).  So, I guess I feel nostalgic.  And it makes me really sad to think that we can never go back to that place, even though "that place" certainly comes with its own baggage- namely, the fact that we were in high school and living at home and I generally enjoyed college sh*tloads more than I enjoyed high school, even though I didn't hate high school by any means.. I just love my independence.

In junior high, Jesus and I would sneak out of whoever's house we were sleeping at and go to the park (often accompanied by other friends who were also bridesmaids of mine) or walk along railroad tracks (which makes us sound like hoodlums even though... we weren't cool enough to be hoodlums or hardcore enough to start any real trouble).  But most of the time, we'd just go for runs like the true nerds that I've decided we must have been. 

Anyway, Jim discourages night time runs because he feels they're dangerous (and in the places we've lived, they are!) and with 2 babies, there isn't much nighttime revelry considering Monk is in bed by 7:30.  I know that in the future this will change, but that also means that my babies will be grown.  Last night I was giving H*llary a bottle and I felt really sad thinking of how Monkey doesn't need me to give her bottles and how I would give almost anything to turn back the clock just 1 year to a time when she would let me give her a bottle - just for a minute.  I'm glad I took every opportunity to feed her every bottle that she would allow me to give to her (until she finally fought me off and grabbed her own bottle!).  I plan on doing the same with the new baby.  I plan on smothering both my children so that they grow up and either want to shoot me or turn to drugs as a way to rebel from their overbearing mother.  And then I will print out this blog entry and say, "See? It was only because I loved you so much."

A few things

I feel like I should post today, even though I only have a few moments before I go to pick up Monk from daycare.


I still can't believe that my due date isn't for an entire week and that my 2nd baby is laying right next to where I sit.  Can I also say that she is SO FREAKING GOOD.  This baby had lots of drama surrounding her arrival and gestational period but virtually no drama (thus far) surrounding her life.  She is sweet and cuddly.  I cannot stress this enough.

I also want to say that it is easier - MUCH MUCH MUCH MUCH MUCH easier to keep a clean house and do things like schedule doctor's appointments, buy birthday cards, plan meals when you are not working full-time?  Not that being home is easy because when I have Monkey and new baby at home with me, sh*t gets crazy.  But I am not juggling the idea of reviewing a million contracts or a pending conference call, etc.. Holy sh*t.

J & I are in the midst of Season 5 of Dexter.  I cannot get enough of this show and briefly considered secretly watching an episode while he was at work today.  But I know he'd kill me if he found out and he would know immediately by my reactions if I was being genuine.  Typically the suspense kills me so much that I start yammering about how stressed out this show is making me.

We had a million visitors this weekend and it was really fun.

Things on my mind...

My curling iron is broken.  If you saw my curling iron, you'd be shocked it even worked to begin with.  I use them pretty hard (and every day).  It's caked in hair and hairspray and completely gross looking.  But buying a new one is such a drag.  Similar to a blow dryer.  The one I bought when I was 18 before college broke a few months ago.  I was so mad that it broke (for some reason, I felt cheated.  Like I should get over 11 years of service out of something I bought at Bed, Bath & Beyond for $10), that when J bought me a nicer, new one for Xmas, I was bummed a present had to be wasted on something as boring as a blow dryer.  Tomorrow, I will buy a curling iron.

I am leaving in a few moments to pick up the Monk.  But first I have to feed the baby.  I was so productive today- I ordered a wedding gift online, birth announcements, pictures dating from Summer 2010 through the present, called people about possible asb*estos in our basement (UGH. How and when exactly does home ownership pay off?).

I still worry about Monkey or baby wandering into the street.  Our street is not super busy, but it is definitely not a quiet suburban street.  This is my only true complaint about the house.  Luckily I have found that I can carry the infant carrier and Monkey at the same time.  I put Monk down briefly yesterday to chat with the neighbor and she just wanders off.  She is too young to understand that streets are dangerous and cars and buses soaring by can kill you.  Not to be dramatic, but..  I have a tendency to be dramatic.  We had to go around back because a spider as big as a strawberry created a web directly over our front door.  Our back yard is flooded (like everything else in the east coast) so we had to step around water-logged dog poop and literally fight off mosquitoes with our hands.  Mosquitoes this time of year are SO. BAD.  I cannot say this enough.  I don't know if it's just my area or it's the entire world or what, but they are the single thing that make me eager for fall.  I am not one for cold weather at all, as I've reiterated on here countless times.

Although J & I had a kicka$$ Halloween a few years ago.  I believe it was our last child-less and pregnant-less Halloween together.  We walked to a nearby concert venue from our cool loft in our [cooler] city and saw a band that was awesome and we drank good beer and too much of it.  And then we came home to our beagle and it was such a nice night we could leave our windows open and feel safe since we were on the 5th floor.  I'd like to remind myself quickly that on our last night out to dinner in said city that I almost got mugged of my cash-less bag.  J laughs so hard when he thinks about someone taking my bag... I never ever carry cash and he worries about this fact so much.  But one time, I DID carry cash.  And it was the night of his bachelor party.  His friends came up to our apartment and one of his "friends" swiped $60 from the top of the microwave- MY $60.  That I was carrying.  Cash.  I told J someone stole it and he defended his friends.  At a bachelor party a month later, more money was stolen.  This individual was in attendance but had left earlier in the evening (but not before the money was stolen).  Then he thought he was being sly by calling up J or another guy who was at the party the next day and saying, 'Hey... I hate to put a damper on the evening but... someone stole $200 from me.'  When the recipient said, 'Yeah.. well Jon had $300 stolen,' the thief said, 'Yeah, but he won that money at the casino earlier that day... so he kind of broke even.'  Hmm.... no.  This thief also has a gambling problem, spotted work history and married a rich girl whose dad fills their bank accounts each month with money.  So why would he bother stealing?  Probably because of his gambling addiction.  Anyway, I digress.  J isn't really good friends with this guy.  And I don't really like his wife at all.  I am pretty social in that I can hold a conversation with pretty much anyone on this earth, except a few people- including her.  This leads me to believe that the problem is her.

Anyway, I'm kind of glad that this money incident happened and that J defended his friend who ended up being a thief (who nobody ever confronted).  It's one of those things that you can hold over your husband's head pretty much forever.  Like if my friend or family member does something that annoys or offends him I say, 'Well, did they steal $60 from you? No?  Then it looks like you came out on top.'  And this type of ammo, my friends, is worth way over $60.    :)

Baby 2

the birth. 

This is a long one and just as much for me as it is for you.  I say this so I can be ridiculously detailed- I just don't want to forget this night or any of these moments and I don't do the whole "paper journal" thing. 

So as I mentioned on my previous entry, I had been having muscle pain and a hurricane was a-brewing in the Atlantic. I awoke on Saturday at about 5am feeling like I had been clenching every muscle in my body all night long.  I called my ob/gyn and left a message like, 'My skeletal muscles kill.  I'm not having contractions.  The baby is kicking as it should.  Not sure this is pregnancy related, but I want to let you know it is happening in case there is some weird pregnancy disorder with this symptom that I do not know about.'  Doc called back and was like, 'No. Doesn't sound pregnancy related.  But I would like to just check out the baby if you are in this much pain.  It's really busy at the hospital right now, so come in at around 10 and we'll do a non-stress test and you can get home before the heavy rain hits.'  In the next 5 hours, I googled my symptoms (results: fruitless), diagnosed myself with fibermyalgia (sp? not bothering to spell check this) and/or rheumatoid arthr*tis, took a hot bath and shaved (which felt amazing... and, umm.. hello- we all know how this story ends, so THANK GOD), asked the in-laws (who were coming over later that day anyway.  J had to run in to work for a few hours in the morning) to watch Monkey for a few hours, got her dressed, packed her a lunch and drove myself to the hospital.

I got to the hospital was greeted by my doc who was on his way out, peed in a cup, put a gown on and they strapped 2 monitors to my belly: 1 to monitor baby's heartbeat, 1 to monitor contractions (I think... bc that's what it did).  An hour later, a different doc comes in (not my doc).  She said, 'You had 1 contraction since you've been here, which is normal.  We think you just have a bladder infection.  Stick around for 1 more hour while we wait the results of your urine test.'  The nurse came in.  I told her 'I don't want to have the baby today.'  She said, 'Don't worry, baby.  You won't.  It's too early.'  Okay.  Exit: doctor and nurse.  Enter: the world's most regular contractions you have ever seen.  I saw them begin on the monitor.  I saw the first one.  Normally contractions start out far apart and then gradually get closer together.  Not these, my friends.  These were every minute from the very first contraction.  I sat there watching the weather channel, praying that I was incorrectly reading the monitor.  I fully intended on going home that night and being with Monkey.  No question.

Doctor comes in.  She explains to me that I have been contracting and is going to check if I'm dilated, etc.. She asked if I was dilated at my last doctor visit.  Internal exams don't start at my doctor's office until 37 or 38 weeks- I was just 36 wks, 6 days.  Appt was on Monday, so... I didn't know.  This woman was small.  So were her fingers.  I'm 5'8" (or 5' 7.5").  Also, every muscle in my entire body was in pain (hence, the reason I'm AT the hospital).  She basically had to fist me to feel my cervix.  I never have experienced such pain during a routine internal exam.  She was frustrated at my inability to not ride up the table, and I was pretty much hating her for not letting me go home and then for fisting me and for being an ob/gyn to begin with.  Result: 4cm dilated, 50% effaced.  She said, "You must stick around for 2 more hours, we'll see if these contractions are false labor or if they are actually making your cervix dilate."  I still was clinging to the nurse's words and refusing to believe that there was any possibility that I was in labor. 

2 hours later, Doctor did another painful check.  6 cm dilated.  I was progressing.  The doctor says, 'You are 6 cm dilated.'  I responded, 'Can you give me medication to stop the labor for awhile so that I can go home?'  BTW- I know this medication exists.  For some reason nobody even considered giving it to me.  I mean, I know my doctor said "After 36 weeks we will not try to stop your labor," but, I mean, aren't these things negotiable?  Would it hurt to stop the labor?  She responded, 'M... you are in labor.  You aren't going home.'  My response? I burst into tears.  This was just not how I planned it (and here I thought I was so laid back) and I wanted to be home with Monkey.  I wasn't ready.

I then call my mom crying.  I then call J crying.  My friend TheBlind was pretty much my lifesaver.  Her text messages kept me laughing during this time.  Keep in mind that we now know everything is okay.  But before the storm hit, before my baby was born pre-term- I didn't know how things would end.  And I have to formally thank her for "virtually" being there with me at that time.  Thanks for being there for me in my time of need, buddy.   

The nurse kept being like, 'You need to stop crying.  You are going to meet your baby tonight.'

But I just could not believe it.  I don't know why I was so tied to the idea of being induced again at 39 weeks.  I think because it felt safe.  I knew what would happen and could control many circumstances: I could pack, arrange for my mom to watch Monkey, get a pedicure, shave [thoroughly], schedule it AFTER the hurricane, select my doctor.  I just wasn't ready.  We had no diapers, my huge order from Babies R Us hadn't arrived yet, etc... I could not wrap my mind around being in labor.

Anyway, my body didn't give a sh*t and labor continued.  My contractions did not miss a beat. They were regular, strong and productive.  I got an epidural, the doctor broke my water. J and I watched 80% weather channel and 20% My Big Fat G*ypsy Wedding (have you seen this show? CRAZY.  We were blessed to catch a marathon).  Things didn't start to get wild until later that evening... when the tornadoes began to touch down all around and in my city.  I was watching the warnings, learning the exact time the tornado or, in the alternative, circular winds, would be passing through our city and calling the in-laws to direct them to the basement.  I kid you not when I tell you that most residents slept in their basements that night.  Screw the hurricane- it was the tornadoes that scared the sh*t out of everyone.  A tornado blew through a neighboring town and wiped out over 10 houses, narrowly missing my nurse's father's house (a new nurse, at this point.  Cindy.)  She told me she was afraid: not for her father's life, but for her father's house.  Because he'd have to come live w her if his house was blown away.  Anyway, the in-laws did me a solid and totally woke Monk up and took her to the basement.  These tornado warnings lasted for HOURS.  I was completely fixated.  I was just SO WORRIED about Monkey. The last one was to end at 11:00.  At 10:45, Cindy came in and was like, 'Alright, I'm going to check you to see how you're doing.'  Still staring at the TV, I spread my legs (no shame, no pride).  Cindy tells me it's time to push: she is staring at the baby's head.  To be honest, I still could not wrap my mind around the fact that a baby was in there.  I ask her if we can wait until after the tornado warning is over.  She said "No, the baby is coming.  Let's turn off the TV."  J agreed with her and I had to take a leap of faith and recognize that I am out of control and if God has plans to have a tornado take out my house, then staring at the TV is not going to stop it.  We turned off the TV and I pushed like a freaking champ.  I mean.. I did this only 19 months ago.  I wasn't wasting any energy.  This baby flew down.  I pushed for like 8 minutes and the nurse was like, 'Hold on.  Let me get the doctor and baby nurses.'  They rolled in for my final pushes.  For the final 8 minutes, I had an audience staring at my v*agina.  It phased me not.  With Monkey, the [male] doctor was silent and the baby nurses were off to the side.  Only my nurse and J were saying encouraging things.  I was perfectly okay with this- I fully trust my nerdy doc.  This time couldn't have been more different.  It was like girl power fell upon that room with flickering lights due to the storm.  The doctor was like, 'Awesome, girl.  Another big push- that's right. You can do it.'  The baby nurse is farther away saying, 'Beautiful.  Awesome.  Look at all the hair on that baby's head.'  My nurse continued to cheer me on.   I would never switch ob/gyn practices because, frankly, this woman's fingers are too short for someone of my height, but I may be a female doctor convert.  Even J was like, 'I liked having a room full of women when you were pushing.'  In any event, my sweet H*llary was born.  And she was smaller- 6 lbs 5 oz - with a head full of dark hair.  They handed her to me and she just stared at me and let out this cry and I just stared at her in disbelief.  All this time...

my experience in having 2 kids.

We kept Monk in daycare last week so as not to disturb her routine at all.  She is going down to part-time.  I worry about forcing her to endure an emotional transition back to daycare upon the end of my mat leave.  I miss her terribly when she is not here.  I must say, though, when she is here, I am like Mom-Woman.  There is no half way and thank goodness J is as into it as I am.  He missed his calling as a baby nurse.  He watched H*llary while Monk and I went to Tar*get, the playground, for walks, had bath time.  

Anyway, turns out I do have the capacity to love another baby as much as I love Monk.  I'm glad we shelled out cash to get family pictures in June, though.  I can barely recall life without the new baby- it's like she was here all along.  When I see those pictures of Monkey as an only child, my eyes tear up immediately.  And then when I look in H*llary's eyes and contemplate the life she has to live before her, tears spring to my eyes.  Who am I kidding? Doesn't take much to make me cry these days.. or any day since January 2010 when I had Monkey.  You get pregnant because you think it will be fun/you want to give a sibling to your only child/you always wanted a child/2 children- and you end up once more vulnerable and completely head over heels in love.  I don't know if I have the emotional stability for this gig.