Tenants, landlords, farmers, and parents

I love my pastor's homilies. He shoots from the hip and minces no words. His message came from today's Gospel reading that as parents we are the tenants who must produce good fruit (Matthew 21:33-43). He commented that the kids are wanting to serve, but parents are preventing it. "Parents, they can not drive." He commented that when we fail to tend our gardens properly, they yield bitter fruit. Likewise, when we fail to teach kids the things they need to learn, our own children also become bitter fruit (aka brats). Sometimes, weeds overtake the garden and our kids choose their own path that we wouldn't have chosen for them.

Twice last week, it was suggested to me to use the cry room on both Saturday at the vigil Mass, and then Wednesday when I went to Mass because I was seeking some time of peace on a difficult day. The message was not received well, and I physically bit my tongue to avoid making more problems for myself. I was angry, hurt, frustrated, and felt unwelcome in my own home. So, today, I brought it to my pastor's attention after church, wishing I could have caught up to him before Mass because this would have been related to his homily today.

I feel like a bit of a tattle tale, but honestly, the pastor needed to know this was happening. If the two individuals said it to me when my family has served as liturgical ministers, they were going to say it to others. The first is unfamiliar with my family since it was a different Mass than we normally attend. He was polite and I want to believe he was well-intended, but the second being familiar with us may not have been. They are also older, from the generation that was raised to be seen and not heard. There is a time and place for children to be seen only, but it's a short list.

As I suspected, the pastor did not disagree with me. He even said "how else will they learn?" My kids get louder, more disruptive, and more distracted by the other unchecked kids running around in the cry room. Plus it has a tile floor, making the noise reverberate. No thank you, my kids have my permission fidget all they need to, so long as they're quiet and not getting overly disruptive to the prayers of those around them. I will not be taking them to the noisy room, but instead, will continue to remind them to be respectful of those around them, be quiet in the presence of God in church, and set the example for other parents in teaching their children. If I have to take them out of church, there are consequences for junior, and then - this is key - WE GO BACK IN THERE.

This goes back to my beliefs as a parent that we are raising our children in preparation for the adult world. When my kids are somewhere with me, they must behave appropriately even when they are bored, don't want to be there, or don't like the place. There is also time and place for children's fear to be addressed, but in this instance, my youngest 3 kids have been coming to Mass with me since birth after I learned the hard lesson with the oldest 2 with regards to church. It's not an unfamiliar or unsafe place that would merit a freak-out from my neurotypical children. After what feels like a million years, the kids start figuring out how to participate in the Mass, how their actions impact others, how to adapt to their surroundings, and how to deal with things they may not like.

Perhaps my kids being difficult is divine intervention to get that person behind us to get out of their own heads for a minute and pray for peace to come to the frustrated mother who can't seem to get the pre-Kindergartener to stop doing obnoxious things in an attempt to get mom's goad, or the baby who's figured out his voice carries very well given the acoustical design of the sanctuary to not be quite so loud till he's back outdoors, or for the older sister who is being annoyed by the pre-Kindergartener because button-pushing is a favorite activity. Perhaps, the bouncing kids are supposed to be a reminder to the estranged grandparents that it's time to reach out again to their child in an attempt to mend the fence. What ever the reason behind the lessons presented, they are being presented because that annoyance is supposed to teach something. Instead of clucking or ostracizing, pause a minute, and listen to God's whisper, and find out what message you are supposed to be receiving.

I am keenly aware my kids are disturbing the peace. I live with them. Peace comes about midnight when they're all drooling on the pillow, and even then there is no guarantee it will remain till sunrise. As a mother of an interfaith marriage who wrangles her children at church solo, I want nothing more than my children to be quiet and not disrupt your time at Mass. Because when they do that for you, they also avail it to me. And by the time my nest is empty, someone near me will have a full one, and the shoe will be on the other foot. I hope I can remember the challenge, and offer prayers for peace for them, and not cluck at them.

Whine, Cheese & Gazelles

I am sitting here at the desk typing on the desktop computer instead of the laptop I really really really liked using. I could go so far as to say I loved it. But, I killed it. It wasn't Dead-Dead. But Geek Squad's computer hospital declared it too expensive to repair, given the multiple issues it had, and opted to replace it instead, under the extended protection plan. I have to pick out a new laptop and I'm not liking my options at this point. I'll suck it up eventually and go get a new computer, but it's going to be a few days longer at least before I do. I need to scrape up the money for the extended protection plan. Eventually, I won't need to opt for such "insurance", because I'll have enough money set aside that a new laptop won't even dent the bank.

But first, I have to replace a bent rim on the mom-bus. I managed to hit the side of the storm drain and jacked up my wheel - again. This is the 3rd rim on the bus to get replaced. I'm thankful it's a plain steel rim and not a fancy alloy rim. It's much cheaper that way. But driving on a donut spare is not cool. We don't have insurance for that kind of thing...just have to suck it up and pay for it.

In the meantime, I am listening to Dave Ramsey podcasts on a daily basis, and tasting the koolaid he serves. I really want and need to make big financial changes to be able to live comfortably in my retirement years, and not work longer because I can only afford dog food for my dinner. I want to be able to tick some things off my bucket list without worrying about how I'm going to pay for them, or eat later after I do them. I grew up being taught that you make do with what you have till you can get something better. My husband did too, but somewhere our wiring didn't get run the same way. His mindset is that he works hard for his paycheck and he deserves to reward himself. And he's not incorrect. He's just going about it in a misguided way, at a cost of long term security. And I don't say that to be hurtful or speak ill of him. I say that because that is indeed a fact of what will happen at the current pace things are going. I will add that he has gotten better about how he thinks of money, versus his thinking way back when we were still kids ourselves.

My husband DOES work hard for his paycheck. And he has made some financial errors in his life (I'm not an angel either). But now that our vehicles are paid off, he's making strides towards a better career, and I just paid off my last credit card, I want more. I want his cards paid off. I want more security towards the long term goals. Dave Ramsey calls it "getting gazelle intense". I feel like I'm the gazelle stretching and warming up for the sprint. From my view of the savannah, my husband is still feasting away, with his guard down, while a lion lurks just out of the periphery - subject to pounce at any second. And that scares me on so many levels.

Hopefully I can reach him through love, and not go anywhere near being hurtful. I'm praying for guidance and wisdom in helping him see where my goal lies and see a bigger picture that spans a longer term.

The wheels on the baggage go round and round

I noticed a friend who has lived in my computer for many years deactivated her crackbook page again. She does that periodically because she recognizes what the vortex does to her life and that she needs to step away from it. I applaud her for that, because she has ovarian fortitude that I lack in that regard. Slowly though, I am actually nearing that point myself. I'm still stewing over my losses, and haven't given a whole lot of effort to the attempt at amends. I'm still deciding if I even want to, or actually should do it. I know I should, at least to apologize for leaving certain people high and dry from my end of the fence. They may not see it that way, and just see it as their own evolution that left me in their dust. I won't know till I take that step though. I'm still working up my nerve to do it, just like I'm still working up the nerve to get back on the motorcycle. It will happen, I just don't know when my cajones will appear and make it happen.

In any case, I was talking to L on the phone since she isn't online at this point, and we shared our burdens with each other, looking at the blessings and silver linings of each situation. Interestingly enough, there were parallel threads with us both. I'd experienced my own version of her disappointment, and likewise, she'd had her own version of the one I am experiencing. She said even though her mind has reasoned that she needed to cut ties with people, she still feels IMMENSE guilt for doing so. We talked of forgiving others, and ourselves. We've always heard that we should forgive those who have done wrong by us. And for many folks, forgiving equals letting those offenders back into your picture. Forgiving, in fact, does NOT mean we have to allow them back. It just means we don't let the hurt they caused to remain as a weight on our own shoulders. Reconciling is a completely different bird, that has feathers of forgiveness in its plumage. Forgiving just means you don't have to lug around that heavy baggage of resentment, guilt and revenge.

L is also Catholic, with an excellent Southern Protestant upbringing full of Biblical Scriptures. She's got excellent timing with the verses she shares with me. This recent conversation bore "My yoke is easy and  my burden is light" to which I remarked "yea, cuz I put wheels on my baggage." That imagery sent her into a bit of a giggle. Leave it to me to not let things stay heavy too long. Levity is one of my many coping mechanisms. Lately though, I'm not as light-hearted, snarky, sarcastic, amusing, interesting, humorous,  - the usual Feisty stuff. I'm feeling weighed down with mental and emotional clutter. And it's causing difficulty pretty much everywhere. Rather than chucking the burdens, I put wheels on them and schlepped them EVERYwhere with me. All I'm doing is wearing out my shoes, my shoulders, my heart and mind. The whole problem is getting to be pervasive, and that is really annoying. I liken it to dragging a suitcase along on a plane, along with a bunch of other loose odds and ends that won't stay in another bag, and keep falling out of it. If I'd checked that suitcase, I could have less difficulty handling whatever was spilling out of that other bag. Nope, instead I put wheels on it, compounding my own challenge, and the trip becomes a chore, instead of an enjoyable journey.

What baggage have you put wheels on, and schlepped along behind you? How much of it should you have just jettisoned, restructured, or framed differently?

The suck sucks.

"Embrace the suck, for the suck is part of the process" - AJ Jacobs, Real Simple, May 2012
I literally JUST read this line in an article about being creative and how that prolongs mental acuity, and had to stop to brain-dump. I've been stewing on things for several days. And I don't like what I've recognized. 

I have royally screwed up on something very important to me. And I managed to blindside myself with it to boot. It's been a long time coming, and I was oblivious to it till it was too late to save as much of it as I could have. Of course, anyone who knew me from childhood knows I take comfort and refuge in my oblivion, as I'm painfully aware of so many other things that spurn any number of thoughts and emotions.

What have I killed? My relationships with people who aren't in my face daily, or live in my computer. Therein lies my problem. My most valuable connections have become those that live online. It started when I found out my friend was given a proverbial death-sentence a few months ago. For the record, she's still defying those doctors, albeit not quite as feistily as she has in the past. I learned via her blog, a few days after her post. It wasn't via phone, in person, or heck, even a private message on crackbook. Ouch. I'd made myself unavailable and less present in her life, and learned this detail like pretty much everyone else did.

Then, I decided that with the first day of school, I should celebrate the quiet my days can have between the schlepping tasks that I mourn having to do. I posted a "hey let's do a woohoo/boohoo coffee at my house", and 99% of the responses came from people who live in my computer and so many miles away that it requires days in a car, or boarding a plane and me schlepping them from the airport for the visit to happen. One person made it, one person was on the way out the door when something came up, one person simply had too many things for her own family to do she couldn't come. Everyone else was either working, or doesn't see me as important in their life to come join me. I haven't made efforts, why should they, right?

OUCH.

I reasoned that I'd deferred my social life to my husband's school schedule, need for study and homework time that didn't involve also minding his spawn so I could be the social butterfly. That's only partially accurate. A part of it is also fiscal. That mom-bus is not the beacon of fuel efficiency, and with all the driving that I *must* do for my family of 6, there comes a point that I fail to muster the wherewithal to do any driving if I even wanted to do it. Plus, given the unemployment/underemployment of our lives the last couple years, I simply couldn't afford the 60 mile round trip to the yarn shop, 16, 20 or 60 to a friend's house when I have to spare the wear & tear, and fuel just get where I must be.

Honestly though, the larger blame falls squarely on MY shoulders. I could have picked up the phone. I could have dragged the toddler with me, and shortened the visits according to the toleration she or my friends demonstrated with the situation. I relied too heavily on a virtual connection to people, and my personal connections fell by the wayside.

So now, I have almost zero turnout to an invitation, I get a cool reception when I try to join a conversation at church with people who were happy to see me 2 years ago, I find friends from church have ended the virtual friendship online after other friends were strongly disagreeing with what was said on the internet. I apologized to the now-unfriended friend, but I think that relationship is soured terribly over it. And I'm the loser in it all. She's an awesome person. And then I had NO idea she had some major and scary health issues involving surgery. No one tells me anything anymore, and that hurts too. I do care, but my actions state otherwise apparently. Again, that was my mistake, and I failed them and myself.

I have friends who have moved into another circle that I doubt I'll ever join, simply because my kids probably won't be attending the parish school. These families post pictures of communal activities, and I think "wow, that looked like fun", and then the sour "would have been nice to be invited". And I look, and everyone present has a child at the school. I understand that they're connected that way, and I hold no ill regard for it. But in at least the 2 parishes where I've been for more than a few months or years, I see it every time. I am (or at least was) friends with some of these people prior to their joining that club of school parents. It stings. I called a couple of them out on it about 5 years ago and was told it was imagined. Really? Then how about asking the people you know from church whose kids do NOT attend the parish school if they want to carpool to and from youth group meetings, or go sit at Starbucks or Panera while the kids are there, so we don't have to drive all the way back home or find something nearby to do so we can save the gas going home and coming back again 2 hours later. So far, none of them have. I'm not in their faces often enough to remind them that I want to have a friendship with them. And I don't want to be that annoying fly who keeps showing up and buzzing around unwanted. So I leave them alone more, furthering the chasm in our friendship.

The other night I told my husband that I basically left a friend whose husband deployed last year high and dry. When we learned of the impending orders, I told myself that I would make myself available to help her when ever I could, because she was amazingly available when Blur was a baby. I understood the stresses of deployment, having dealt with it myself when the boys were raucous preschoolers who drove me to want to drink (and I did). And what did I do? I figured that she was busy with work, baseball for her son, gymnastics for her daughter, had help from her mom, helped her mom with grandma, had come to rely on another friend whose kids went to the same school - and I left her alone. I was either afraid of imposing on her, or I was impeccable with the timing of a call (shower, bathroom, walking in to work, at the game...take your pick, I'm stellar with timing), or I was afraid to call and catch one of those moments. BIG OUCH. She's moved on to other friendships that don't include me. She's still happy to see me, but I don't know that our friendship is the same either.

I suck as a friend. I have long known this about myself, because of a genetic tendency to circle my wagons when certain kinds of chaos appear in my life. It's not entirely an acceptable excuse.
I'm sitting here with my eyes welling because I am mad at myself and, yes, even those I call friends, acquaintances, etc. Mostly I'm mad at myself. I've hurt myself, and my friends. And knowing that about myself sucks. I really DO value my friends, and the friendships I have with them. I just fail to show it. And I'm sorry. I need to call these people directly and apologize, but at the moment, this measly apology for the world to see online is all I can muster at this moment. I'm still raw and angry and hurt. And I know myself enough that I need to make peace with myself and this situation a little before I make those calls. I don't want to start out apologizing for being distant and unavailable, and end up unleashing on them, negating the apology by blaming them for their share of the chasm in our friendship.

So, if you're one of those friends I've let fall off my radar, or I've fallen of yours, I apologize. This is me attempting to embrace the suck that I've created, so I can try to figure out what to do next about any of it.

Pulmonary Revolt

My oldest, the Evil Genius, brought home some germ infestation recently. It struck strong and swiftly. Blessed is the husband who understands the value of his wife's health. Devildog sent me to the bedroom Monday evening, with my nest of stuff I'd need, so I could bed-surf and recuperate. I tried avoiding carbs and sugar all day with fair success till the evening. As I'm told, it slows your recovery when you consume those things. I then spent Tuesday and Wednesday bedsurfing as well. I would have still been there except things like signing up for a motorcycle endorsement class and a job yanked me out of the bed.
As with every variety of cold that comes my way, it becomes bronchitis. YAY! ASTHMA!
The coughing could be potentially tolerated if #1 it wasn't wearing me out, #2 it wasn't non-productive, #3 it didn't make me feel oxygen-deprived.

You know what happens when a mother's brain becomes oxygen-deprived, right?
It's never pretty.

To market, To market

That's the song I'm singing to the house I know Divine Intervention is sending our way. The houses I am looking at in our budget and neighborhoods we're willing to live in are not jumping out and biting me. It's a bit annoying because I would like to find something soon. Of course I'm not seeing it because a) it's not there, not being on the market yet, b) this current house is not ready enough to vacate, nor have I decluttered enough (doesn't look like I did anything at all, because essentially I haven't), and c) I'm known for 11th hour everything. I was even born at 10:28 pm. My best papers in high school and the little bit of college classes that I took ages ago were written at 1 in the morning. I guess it's part of my wiring.

I'm being patient. I don't have much choice really since work is busy right now. I have a feeling work will be busy for a while. The boss asked me to cover some recently vacated stores, adding to my 12 store list, making it 13 on my assignment list, plus another 5 to fill in till a replacement is hired. Then Clone is going to camp next month. I think I have a slow week next week, because this week is already jam full. I think that's when I'll be able to squeeze in the Mini-Human's 9 month checkup and a camp physical for the Clone.

Yet, I'm up beyond the 11th hour, blogging. In my defense that's only because the Mini-Human was up till 2. You read that correctly. UP. TILL. 2. She fights sleep like a trooper, and I need some time to decompress. Unfortunately for my knitting, I can't pay attention enough to knit at this hour. That sweater pattern requires note-taking and attention. That's not possible when I'm not brain-cooperative.
But wait! There's more! For the low low... oh wait, wrong market. No I'm just tired and feeling overwhelmed by a lot of things. My shoulders reside in my ears almost permanently and my back dislikes me often enough. Anything more that I say on it, would be whining, and per FLYLady, I'm not allowed to do that. So I'm going to just crawl in my bed.

Cheese and wine - no H

I often tell the kids when they're being whiny that I have no cheese to go with their WHINE. It makes them roll their eyes and say it's a stupid old line and I shouldn't use it anymore. But it gives me reprieve of the whining.
I ran away from home for a while tonight. Why? Because sometimes real life is stranger than fiction. My friend Fran Pitre wrote a book about her experiences having 3 sets of fraternal twins, and there was a book signing party. I almost didn't go because it was from 5 to 8 and I was not moving fast thanks to some pulled back muscles. I really needed a shower, the children smelled the pork tenderloin in the crockpot and there needed to be something else to go with it. So I made some pan fried potatoes. Some things I just can't bring myself to leave to the teen boys yet. It was 7 by the time I finally left. The mini-human was asleep, but supposedly woke up right after I made my exit. She apparently has mommy-radar and knows when I'm more than ten feet outside the perimeter of the house. Nobody called me, so I was none the wiser, and enjoyed the company of friends.
Wine, fruit, cheese, crackers, cookies and a lot of conversation. I'm not generally a wine drinker, but I do have a couple favorites. I got to sip some wine, eat some cubes of cheese, and met some new friends. (And as I typed "cube of cheese" my ADD brain went immediately to "The Devil Wears Prada" ooh shiny! sorry...moving along).
In any case, Fran was talking about the potential plans for promoting the book. I have no concrete details so I'm not about to misinform anyone here. But I told her I'd do my part.
Twins X3 is available now for your perusal and purchase.
Our pastor read the book, and commented later about knowing details of his parishoner's body. Fran said he wrote a review of the book, so I'm now in search of that bit of text to see what he has to say about it.
And before you start whining, yes Mrs Amiot, you're next. ;)

The end is near, yet out of reach

I am now at that 39 week point. If you've had children, you may relate or even remember...the waiting game. I feel like I did 4 years ago when Mom was on her deathbed and it was a matter of time. Except instead of running to say goodbye to someone, I'll be running to beat an unknown time on the clock to get to a baby-catcher before the baby makes her escape. I'm really really uncomfortable almost 24 hours a day. The physics seem to defy logic and explanation, but I will simply leave it at "stick a fork in me, I'm so done".
I've been an unwilling participant losing the game of Fetal Tetris.
My bladder crapped out on me back in May and has continuously been saying "piss on ya" since then.
This baby has successfully made me stupider than I was before. I'm just thankful I had a larger than average number of active and functioning brain cells when I started my family 16 years ago-well 17 years when you count the conception and gestation. I just hope that as dumb as I've become, this baby girl is an absolute genius stemming from her unadulterated theft of my cognition.
I'm moody, whiny, sullen, mean, evol, cranky, and otherwise like any other teenager in the world - especially when things don't go the way I expect or want. I've actually taken to hiding in my room to avoid spilling my vile mood on others. It doesn't work, because others seek me out and dare enter my room where the vile drips from the bed and stains the carpet. Watch your step in there, I can't get you up off the floor if you slip. I need a forklift myself as it is.

Last week at my doctor's appointment, she asked my sentiments about induction. I told her that I wasn't opposed to it, but felt it was unnecessary in my case and I'd like to wait. She said they don't like to do it till 39 weeks and prefer to see some kind of sign that mom's body is amenable to getting a baby out of her person.
I wagered a guess bout my progress of the baby-exit region, and the doctor confirmed my guess. She then said "we'd like to see more progress than that if we decide to induce you anyway."
At my next appointment the conversation will be revisited and I'm inclined to asking in return "Is NOW a good time for you?"

I did a LOT of walking at work, and shopping this past week. I hope that provided some gains in getting Thumper to exit. I scored some good deals and those are some of the highlights for me. At church Sunday, someone anonymously left me a BIG stack of diapers. It wasn't so much the tangible gift that made my weekend, as the fact that there are people who just love me and want to share with me. It's rather humbling.

I whine and moan way too much. I know that, and make no excuses for it. I try to find humor in things because otherwise I'd whine and moan just that much more anyway. I may as well entertain people out of my unpleasant happenings and experiences. So I guess my entertainment endears me to others or something and as a result, we've been blessed to not have to buy much of anything for Thumper. It was like that for Clone's arrival too. Most of the money out of pocket I've spent during this pregnancy has been for me on maternity and nursing stuff. With both girls, I've not had to buy much of anything. Friends and relatives have blessed me with what was needed, and my girl clothing purchases have been minimal. I'm sure we'll make up for this in their teen years, but by then their big brothers will be adults. And as I keep trying to look forward and count my blessings while painting silver on my thorns, I can't help but keep thinking and saying...

Just stick a fork in me, I'm done. Done waddling, sharing my person, making pit stops every 4 minutes, sleeping in a nest of pillows, being on a first name basis with Tums, and wondering just what exactly is leaking from where.

Woeful Wednesday

Wednesday's child is full of woe. Well yesterday was Wednesday and for me, it was a day full of various woe. I woke up with my blood sugar tanked completely and that took me a while to get through it. I have such a high metabolism that I would diagnose myself as being hypoglycemic, which in general is the opposite end of the spectrum from diabetes. I literally have to eat every couple hours, or it's just NOT pretty. It's a bigger challenge to overcome now that I'm growing a human. The parasite just sucks more out of me, making me have to eat that much more often. Ah the things a mother will do. It was early release day and Clone got picked up 15 minutes late from school because I was just moving slow at work. I decided to scope out a nearby second hand store, because I've been looking for a bathing suit cover-up to alleviate the unsightlyness of my ham hocks. In the middle of shopping, I thought of one of the ladies from my CRHP team who has been fighting cancer for a long time. She's come to mind several times over the past couple months. I left the store shortly after that and came home to lay down. My belly was feeling heavy, and I needed to rest before trekking the kids to church for class. Plus Clone needed to work on her homework. I laid in my bed for a couple hours, talked on the phone to Persnickety - who commented that my blog has become constant commentary about my pregnancy and its varying issues and aspects. Sorry...I've long blogged about what I know and deal with on a daily basis. So, welcome to my world, thanks for not falling off my readership list of followers. I'd apologize to those that stopped reading it, but they're not here anymore to read it.
Well I looked at the clock and WOOPS, it was nearly time to go and I hadn't defunked from work yet. So off to the shower for scrubbing and relaxing. I was about 5 minutes from reaching relaxed, when there was a lot of punching and slamming of a door. I knew it was the boys. They got into a fisticuff on Saturday when I was up at the church serving lunch to the ladies at the retreat. I came home to a broken colander, trash can, and I'm afriad to even LOOK for anything else. I was essentially yanked out of the shower between rinsing conditioner and soaping my pits. I was at least able to shave my legs, while I can still reach them. They were fighting over TV programming. I told them if they got into another fight I was going to call the cops, because I'm just not going to deal with that crap. Plus it's the 2nd fight in just a few days (Saturday, then Wednesday), both times in front of their little sister. Plus if they are going to throw punches, do it in the yard. At least nothing in the house will get broken. I'd sell tickets for the neighbors to watch. Most of the time I spent sitting in the church parking lot was uncomfortable because the stress sent my belly into a tizzy. It took a while for things to settle down finally.
I came home and rested some more, made some chicken noodle soup from the stash of stock I had in the freezer, and RW carted Clone off to bed for me. I was Wanda Whiner at that point. My aunt R told me she was changing my name. She did say that admittedly it was a difficult day for me, and I had permission to whine for a while, but I couldn't let it go on forever. Then I made the error of checking my email and boards while on the phone with her.
The worst email of the day came saying my friend from my CRHP team that I thought about earlier in the day died right around the time I was thinking of her. Please keep the Ashmore family in your thoughts and prayers. Aimee had such incredible faith and she inspired me with her joy and smile, even in the face of challenge. It certainly put a lot of my day into perspective.
Then-I checked my boards on iVillage. One of the girls on my expecting club board was in danger of losing her little boy at 22 weeks because the placenta wasn't doing it's job properly. The blood flow to the baby was not good enough to keep him going till at least 24 weeks. We were holding out hope she could hang onto him till then. Vincent Patrick couldn't keep fighting any longer. It makes my heart break for her and her family. Here I am, I just look sideways at my husband and BOOM I get pregnant. Yet there are others that just struggle to GET pregnant and have to fight to STAY pregnant. It doesn't seem fair.
By the time Devildog got home from work, I was a mess of snot and tears. He listened to me whine a few minutes actually said something that wasn't caveman commentary, and was nice to me. I listened to him download his day, which wasn't a cakewalk for him to deal with the nonsense and BS a retail job hands a person.
In a word, my day was just woeful yesterday and it sucked. So today I haven't done much so far except sleep late. Thankfully Clone was helped to get ready this morning by the big brother and Devildog took her to school. I got up from the bed sometime closer to lunch than breakfast. I accompanied Devildog to the barber and we had lunch together. It was just nice to spend some time with him that didn't include kids, friends, or stress. Although, there was a guy at the counter sniping about the price of his milkshake and being a general bag of butt about it. It bemused me to hear Peggy, the lady at the counter, turn to her manager as the manager came to smooth feathers, and say "It's fine hon, he's been drinking. I can smell it on him." And Peggy, God love her, was not quiet about it, because practically every head in the place turned to see what Peggy was talking about when she said it. Yesterday was one of those days that if I wasn't pregnant, I would've been drinking. Nothing like a Whalers Vanille Rum and Dr Pepper to take the edge off a non-pregnant woeful Wednesday. But for now? It would be a Water Wednesday. No rum for me-woeful or otherwise.

still not a winner

The other night Devildog rolled over in his sleep so much, and in the same direction, that he literally rolled himself up in the covers. I woke up feeling cold, and my normal tug on the sheet and blanket didn't produce results. (Can you tell this is a regular occurance in our house?) In my quest for covers, I woke him up, but I was able to go back to sleep. Then today I was at work, when I don't normally work on Monday. He called to ask what I was doing, and then got annoyed because I was working, essentially deviating from my "routine" work schedule. With the stuff on my calendar, his work schedule and our anniversary falling in the middle of the workweek, I needed to work today or risk rushing and cramping my time later. He complained that he hasn't seen much of me in a month, citing much of it being my doing. Some of it yes, but not all is my doing. He works a funky retail schedule that is less than conducive some weeks. The past couple months have been squirrelly in general. My work schedule and the other things I committed to doing aren't typical either, especially that week last month where literally EVERY thing was rescheduled into that single week. Then I'm feeling caught in the middle of another situation, and trying to stay out of it, because I could easily get caught in the trap of "pot meet kettle". When you get strong personalities together, there is inevitably going to be some contention. We're all human, but there isn't any need for whining and griping when a simple conversation can alleviate some confusion that leads to dissention. I understand the differing sides of both these situations. I'm just trying to pull out my diplomatic hat and be careful about how I handle these challenges. Lord knows, I have a temper and know how to use it. I end up leaving a mess in my wake though, and it's just NOT pretty that way. But being the tactful diplomat is much more productive most times...and certainly easier to clean up after wearing that hat. I just hope it's a proper fit, unlike my bed covers are apparently.

I just can't win

First, I need to vent just ONE tiny second, and really don't require a response to this portion of my blog entry. I can't wait for election day to be over. EVERY day the mail is delivered, I get at a minimum of 2 campaign flyers. MINIMUM. TWO. DAILY. Can't they figure out a better way to spend money. How about knocking on my door when I'm actually HOME (which isn't as often as it was a month ago) and getting my 2 cents. "Campaign season" is just about as bad as being sent to the yard to get your own switch, and then having to anticipate the sting for what seems like an interminable amount of time. Meanwhile all you're thinking is "Just smack me and get it over with so I can deal with it and move on from here."


Which interestingly enough, is kind of how I'm feeling at the moment. I can't seem to win with my family. Mostly my clone and my spouse. He's still pissed about the whole hair thing. I'm not even going to give it credence anymore.

Then Clone missed me today while I ran errands. I just didn't want to be distracted and aggrivated by children in the grocery store etc. They run off with my cart right as I turn to deposit a purchase into it for one thing. That was nice to control my own shopping cart. But she missed me. And after Devildog made burgers (his are da shizit) for dinner and I was puttering, I had to pee. Sorry, it's a human condition to eliminate liquid waste, I just choose to talk about it. I was reading something and enjoying the quiet. Apparently I was gone too long again. Clone was thirsty. She walked PAST the dad, and came to ask me for milk.
She walked past Devildog, who was sitting easily 20 feet closer to the milk, not behind a closed bathroom door on a commode, and not doing anything but watching tv...to ask ME for milk. Not just because she was thirsty.
Because she missed me. MISSED ME. WHYYYYYYY??? Nevermind, don't answer, I don't have the energy to entertain it.
Upon my departure from the water-closet (yes it's that small here), the conversation went like this: (Dev-DH. Me-Yours Truly)
Dev "You made her cry" (because I told her to go ask him since I was on the potty)
Me "I was on the toilet. She walked past YOU to get to me"
Dev "you made her cry"
Me "But I was ON the toilet!"
Dev "She hasn't seen you all day"
Me "you're gone all the time and nobody cries about it"
Dev "because nobody loves me"
Me "No, that's because I make everybody's life easier"
::crickets chirping::

See?

I'm on duty

And have been since the middle of last night. My clone has been combatting a tummyache that accompanied the losing of contents. I feel so bad for her, and it makes me revert to the doting mother syndrome. My baby just wants to be left alone though. She tried to go to school, because that girl just can't stand to miss a day. Try as she might, certain things like ADD tendencies and being my clone render her short on the stick quite often. Last time there was imminent danger of missing a day, she whined with hysterical sobs that perfect attendance was the only award she got at the end of the year and if she stayed home, she wouldn't get ANY award. So again, today she gave it the college try. I had that facilitating of a peer group thing at the church this morning, and I would have been leaving the group with one facilitator. The one co-facilitator that had a deathbed in-law, now has a dead in-law. So she wasn't going to be there. I was geared up to leave early and get there on time to help set up because my past tardiness has frustrated my team. Then the girl woke up in the middle of the night and proceeded to get sick. DevilDog has a weak stomach like his mother, and they both are self-proclaimed sympathy pukers. I got a fair portion of my father's iron stomach. Somehow DevilDog held his stomach and its contents for the better part of a couple hours, and didn't lose it. I'm so proud of him, and bragged about it to my friends. Seriously, it's the little things that mean a lot right? Lucky bugger that he is though, he had to go to work. EARRRRRRLY, before the sun appeared on the horizon's butt-crack. Then he got to stay and work late. So my plan for grocery shopping was punted by the wayside. Clone has been sleeping on and off all day since I picked her up early from school. She ate some of my chicken noodle soup and went back to sleep. Then when Beast's viewing of "Forrest Gump" proved to be too loud for her liking, she slunk off into my bed where it's quieter. (It IS after all, why I like my room-the potential for quiet.) And I'm still here on duty, craving a HAMBURGER of all things. Ground beef is on my shopping list but again, I'm on duty and don't want to leave Beast to tend a sick sister while dad gets to work late. And my back is killing me, so I'd end up having to get a fart cart as Persnickety calls them...which the pain savings for using that will be negated by my having to lift things like milk, meat and the like. I'm bebating the rum or the ibuprofin at the moment...and I realllllly want a hamburger. *sigh*

UPDATE: DevilDog stopped at the grocery store on his way home from work and got stuff like creamer for the coffee and ginger ale for the clone, and cans of soup she's not likely to eat while the pot of my mom-made soup is available. He contemplated getting me a double cheeseburger that I would have relished as I happily devoured it. But thought about the money he'd spend and decided a grocery store stop was more economical, even though it would have been cheaper to get a double cheeseburger for me than the sushi he procured. That's fine and dandy by me though, because earlier today while starving and on duty, I longed for a burger and/or sushi while I ate a grilled cheese sandwich. Which reminds me, I should ask if he bought bread. I realized why my back is killing me. The clone was getting sick this morning and I grabbed her and flew to the bathroom with her. I wrenched my back moving my puky baby. The things a mother does for her children. Ice packs and ibuprofin are my friends right now. And if dh will help me make the bed, that bed will be a friend too. Which, he just kissed me goodnight and informed me he's sleeping in the clone's bed. I guess I'm on the futon unless I can muster the ability to get the sheets back on my bed.

Once again, the devil throws sand

It's been a *challenging* two weeks to put it succinctly. I'm so glad resets are done, only for the physical toll they take on me. Then today I strolled into the peer group thing I'm doing, and was met with a semi-stressed co-facilitator. The third facilitator had a major family emergency. Another group from the church snagged the meeting room we were scheduled to use, which meant physical arrangements had to be altered. Then I spilled coffee in the storage closet, and had to clean it up. I did find something that should've gone to the parish office 2 months ago in the plastic bin that accepted my coffee mess though. (Hey, I'm trying to find the bright side here.) Then I got politely reamed for not getting there early enough to help (um, a phone call last night with the heads up that we were down one facilitator would have been helpful). I ran errands, ate lunch, got my clone and headed off to visit the vampires. Donating blood leaves me less than 100% till late at night, or even the next day. So I was fine with the kids skating on the patio while I attempted to rest on the futon Persnickety gave us. I was happy not to have to fight the kids for space on it too.

Not 10 minutes into the rollerblading excursion I heard the Beast emit "auuggggggh!" and stomp through the house to the front yard to shut off the water to the house. He slid and broke a pipe that was exiting the house. It wasn't just any water spraying the patio. It was HOT water. For the third time. In four years. DH denies having repaired it before (feeble memory that man has) after one of them hit it previously. I went to the orange Man Store to get the parts for the repair. I annoyed asked the associate for help with something else outside plumbing but in the next aisle. (Hey! He wears the orange apron, his job is customer service. I was no more annoying than the customers my husband describes visiting his orange store). DH starts cutting away the pipe and gets to the point where he needed the channel locks to open the PVC cement to make it all happen. I get his keys, go to open the back window of his truck and nothing. I mean nada. Not a click, whine, whir or breath. Go open the door, more of NADA. I holler over the house "HONEY! We gotta jump start your truck too!" I went for my keys, met him inside and told him he left his parking lights on all day. He came out with the flashlight to get the channel lock since he knows precisely where he stashed it. I got my jumper cables and moved the van, got things connected and gave it some gas for good measure. That battery was D-E-A-D. I waited 10 more minutes, and nothing. I checked the cables, and the negative on my van slid off the post. By this point, nothing is a big suprise to me today. But it wasn't any more pleasant. I finally got the truck jump started and drove it around the block. By then, DH was late for work. A few hours before (but after the pipe fiasco started), I put chicken in the crockpot, so my house was smelling good and my tummy was hungry. I returned, and I was about to make a plate of food for myself and I learned that my husband's repair sprung a leak. Off to the orange store again for more of the same parts (should have bought the "Pro-Pack" I had in my hand...damn). Don't ask, I didn't do this plumbing job. It was here when we moved into the place. We work with what we're given.

Then, I decide to call ABC for an inquiry of price and availability of my brand and flavor rum. THAT alone is worth its own separate blog post when I don't already have a headache. For now, I'm going to turn on the water to the house so I can pee and flush the toilet, and pray for a good seal on that plumbing repair. Which I would love to share pictures of, but I still haven't located the battery charger....
Anybody have a broom?

Hair Dropping

I just spent the first day of my two week "reset run" as I call it, wondering why I do this job I do. It's decent pay, for a decent company, I haven't COMPLETELY ticked off my boss, and I've been doing it for almost five years, so I have a clue, and it's easy enough for me. The exceptions would be those other particpants that keep finding their way back out of Darwin's waiting room. It was an incredibly frustrating workday. I have a regular merchandising job, and I'm helping a coworker who has a situation meriting my help with resets. Reciprocation isn't permitted though, otherwise I would've been outta the store before dinnertime today. I hope the rest of the resets are not NEARLY as frustrating or as many hours. This is just "one of those weeks". The resets got pushed back again and again, then some training that was rescheduled due to Fay's Florida Vacation takes place this week, across town, at the height of rush hour traffic going en masse into the next county. Plus those two rescheduled items crunch up with the rest of my calendar. I'll be needing a new bottle of Whaler's as soon as the resets are finished. My last bottle was emptied at the pajama party. I'll REALLLLLY need it by then. REALLY. I want to think that today was the worst because it was the first reset, the product didn't get sent to the store in time for me to start on it earlier than noon, and somehow two carts full of books that aren't going to be returned, nor put anywhere on the sales floor will somehow magically fit into the little bit of storage space available to me. I MacGuyvered some things so I wouldn't have to fenagle more space for heavy printed material. Yes, I deviated from the PlanOGram. Go lose some hair over it.

some companies really should change or stop operating

And I'm specifically talking about a certain appliance company that has been around for generations. I foolishly thought taking calls for this particular work at home company's client was a good idea. At every turn the devil is against me, trying to keep me in hot water with the companies. I'd love to smack the bean counter that prompted the constraints put on agents to do their jobs. This appliance company expects agents to get the customer profile, empathize with a distraught and irate (mildly stated) appliance owner who just got this hunk of poo 2 or 3 years ago, sell the repair service and get off the phone with the customer in four minutes. Yes, FOUR. Some customers can't even finish venting inside of four minutes. Between the appliance itself, the incredibly frustrating phone prompt system (I've personally attempted to navigate it), and then the lack of empowerment the agents are given, plus the high cost of the repair - customers are NOT happy. And now *I* am REALLY not happy. I checked my performance log and see that it says I missed 4 calls - kind of hard when my phone did NOT ring 6 times in that half hour. But somehow this company figures that it's acceptable to count those 4 calls that never came to my phone against me. Then I look again, and I have a "Personnel Infraction Notice" or something of the name. Because I took too long on the phone (fine, I know I do that) and because my conversion is 33% since the ghost calls counted against me. Oh I'm just livid about this and because I'm a remote agent, there is not a human resources person for me to rant to in person. I'm not signing those write ups till some attempt is made to clarify things for me, and even then I don't think I'm going to sign the write ups at all. I contacted the supervisory line to get clarification, and I get a response about pay - which wasn't what I asked. I want to know why calls I never even GOT can be counted against me.
This particular line sucks the life out of me, and I'd rather be broke than have no soul for having worked this line. I'm done. I'm so done, I'll stick the fork in myself.