So, every Thursday I work from a site that is right by Macy's... In fact, I've started calling it Dr.X-Macy's for that reason... I dread this day, though, because since me dept. is fairly new within this office, we aren't utilized much (actually AT ALL) yet. So, I try to fill the excruciatingly long eight hours with other crap- I do have an account I work on downtown, while at the main office, and I try to tackle it while out at the sites, but it's wrapping up this quarter and I'm finding there isn't really as much to do until I get the new quarter's list. And the office staff seems okay, but they aren't very warm and fuzzy yet, and they always seem very busy (with patients, god forbid) so I try not to bother them too much.
The recent news on the house sale is that there isn't any new news really... We switched to the realtor through the builder and he made a list of improvements that he recommended we make. Stuff like paint the "dark" walls (meaning my red and blue walls) neutral. Paint the trim and garage door outside. Powerwash the siding. Blah blah blah... So, yesterday I did get estimates for the paint jobs. I called this lady that one of my friends recommended because she is cheaper and does a good job quickly. After showing her the areas that need repainted, she went out to her car to decide the magic price using her "magic pricing table" (or whatever she called it)... Let's just say that her estimate wasn't so magical. Maybe I'm a tight-wad (a quality I've proudly inherited from my parents), but wow. Not so cheap... Why is it that we're supposed to pay all this money to repaint just so someone will repaint once they buy it? That makes no sense to me really. I mean, do people really walk into a house, and can't use their imaginations to get past the (heaven forbid) COLORS OF THE WALLS?
I do feel that this realtor will do a better job at getting the house looked at better, but I guess since he told us he can't do a guarantee buy-out, it left a bad taste in my mouth about all this. Hubby and I have resigned ourselves to the possibility of two mortgage payments (definitely not a warm and fuzzy feeling) and possibly looking at renting out the house... *Sigh*
Also, I had to drop out of my bellydancing troupe. I guess maybe I didn't give it long enough, but I just didn't feel like I was fitting into what the troupe was wanting to do. The other women in the group are all about performing in public, and I was just there for exercise. Plus, I just found myself wishing I was spending time with my fam while I was there (lame, I know)... Maybe it's the stress of everything or something else, I don't know. Hopefully I don't let them down too much. Maybe I'll try something new- my younger one has his brain wrapped around taking karate class (in fact, if you ask him he'll tell you he's training for martial arts) and there's an adult class right after the kids' class. I could use it for taking some aggression out on kicking and hitting something/ someone.
So, my hubby called my cell phone this morning to share with me this little jewel of a question asked by Son #2 (big surprise): "If your finger smells like poop, and you lick it, will you get sick?" That phone call totally made my day.
So, I have been very bad at updating the blog lately. Why? Well, there are many reasons for it, but maily what it all boils down to is that I've been hit in so many directions by so many sources of stress that by the end of the day, I'm thoroughly exhausted past the point of forming sentences, yet alone try to write anything that makes sense. And trust me, I've tried lately and everything that comes out is gibberish.
The house selling/ buying is a dismal mess right now. We've listed our house the past three months, and even thought there have been many showings, there have been no bites. So, we moved on to Plan B, which meant bringing the builder's realtor in on trying to sell the house. We were under the impression from the builder that they have a guaranteed buyout. That was Mistake Number One.
We met with the recommended realtor yesterday, who had a very impressive presentation that he ran through on his laptop. But, after all the fancy graphics it boiled down to that he could not do a guarenteed buy-out of our house. Why? Because apparently since we moved a wall back, making a dining room where the original plan did not have one, it left two dining spaces side-by-side. Whatever! That's what appealed to me about the house in the first place, dumbass (is what I thought, but did not express to the realtor, in fear of Hubby's appalled reaction). So, he suggested that we get rid of one of the tables (which between the dining room table and the kitchen table- which is literally glued back together- was not a tough decision), making the dining room into some other kind of room. I think we're going towards making it into a den-ish room; moving a desk and some other stuff into it.
Also, he (of course) suggested we paint over the dark walls because generally people who live in the Midwest apparently have NO DECORATING SENSE (come on, people-- Don't you watch HGTV?!). Oh, and he suggested moving everything out of the garage and painting the floor (which means we have to rent another storage space or upgrade our present one)... At the end of the meeting yesterday, he asked how I felt and (very tactfully, because of my fear of offending Hubby who obviously did not grow up in a family where Shock Value was the mantra) I told him that I was disappointed. What did he really expect me to say? Oh, and we are listing through him... for 10K less than what we were listed at with Previous Realtor. I also told the building rep (who later asked me how I was doing with all this) that I was almost to the point of saying screw it and resorting to living in my present house for the next 10 years. What the hell do they THINK I'm going to say?! That I'm so excited that there still is no closure that I could just piss my pants with happiness?! UGH!
This all better be worth it in the end, is all I keep trying to tell myself. I'm not eternal happiness and sunshine flying out my ass like Hubby is and truthfully, I'm not feeling very warm and fuzzy right now about any of this (I'm sure you can't tell that, though). The only good thing that came out of the meeting is that our letter of contingency was extended, but I'm sure that's probably only going to last for another three months, tops. But, like Hubby reminded me, that is long enough to keep saving even more towards the downpayment. We may even be able to swing it without the present house selling. And in that case, we'll either just keep trying to sell our present house or rent it out.
Then there are the on-going issues of our son and his attention problems. He started really struggling with it towards the end of this past school year and so we went ahead and had him reevaluated for ADD, and of course they think that's at least partially to blame. So, the pediatrician said that we should trial some medication now, so that it's not affecting his school work. And he probably could benefit from occupational therapy, which may be to blame for his anxiety. So, I've been trying to get in touch with occupational therapists and doctors and psychologists while on my lunch hour at work every day (since Steve's handling the house biz).
I'm honestly almost to the breaking point. I feel we've neglected alot of our friends this summer and that really sucks. Especially since I'm such a social creature and it kills me to not have that interaction with friends that I crave- I look at time with friends as therapy and I'm overdue for some fun. I also feel this summer's been a bust with the kids. Whenever we're home, we spend the majority of time cleaning and now we're looking at having to paint and move furnature and all the other things on that stupid list that the realtor recommends.
So, for now, I don't know when my next post will be. Originally I was posting at least twice a week. But for now, I don't think I can squeeze any more energy out of me for anything above just surviving. Check in on me every once in a while- I'll try to keep a somewhat-current post every week or so. Someday (maybe) life will settle down for me and I can get back to writing more often. But for now, I have too many other distractions getting in the way, gomming up my creative juices.
Okay, better late than never, I guess. I meant to post this yesterday, but we had an action-packed Sunday (well, not really) and time got away from me...
Ten years ago today, I went into labor with my older son, Alex… But it wasn’t until 25 hours later that we finally met face-to-face. This was after a not-so-great pregnancy, of which I spent the first six or seven months on intermittent bed rest, consequently gaining a whopping 65 pounds (since all I could really do was sleep and eat- and boy, could I eat!).
From the minute I first laid eyes on his sweet, little face, I was instantly smitten. Alex was a great baby and toddler. I remember my friends’ children hitting the terrible twos and threes and all we really had was maybe a couple days of him being slightly difficult. This is not an exaggeration; he really was that great.
Ten years later, Alex is well on his way of being “older”, and the time has come when we no longer can get away with a family birthday party. In years past, I was really ambitious and would do both a friend and a family party, but that’s really too much anymore. I’m too tired to do the week-long birthday thing anymore, plus that’s just a little too much and I don't really think the kids need their birthdays to seem like a national holiday. They don’t need that much stuff- especially since we’re trying to keep the house semi-clean for showings. We gave Alex a choice between having either a friend party or a family party (knowing the obvious choice he would make); selling the house has really put a damper on doing anything here for fear of trashing it. With our help, he decided on a laser tag party, and tell you what, that was a great time! It’s a bit pricey, but totally worth it. The biggest selling points for me were 1) Not having to clean my house (just to have a bunch of kids over to trash it) 2) Having a “party leader” who does everything from serve the kids their pizza to cleaning up after the party 3) Entertainment that I didn’t have to try to come up with.
As the long-standing tradition goes, I make their cake with whatever theme they want. This year, Alex chose Naruto, a cartoon based on the anime character. I personally find Naruto very annoying and ugly, but I’m not a ten year-old boy, either. I found a picture of Naruto on the internet, enlarged it to the size I needed for the cake, and then drew it onto the top of the sheet cake, using a toothpick. Not a very fancy technique, but one that has worked tried and true over the years for me; also a good way of staying somewhat creative and feeling that all that art training wasn't a complete waste of time. Then, I made my (well, my friend, Jyl’s, recipe) famous almond-flavored Crisco icing (it tastes just like the buttercream icing on the store-bought cakes) and filled in the design. I also tried something new this time by using store-bought tubes of red gel icing for the swirl on Naruto’s hand and mouth and also using white gel icing for the teeth and eye. I think it really ended up looking pretty good. Too bad there isn’t much money in decorating cakes… The kid that was our “party leader” said that it was the coolest cake he’d ever seen- I take that as a compliment, considering how many cakes they probably see. The compliment got him a piece of the cake, too.
There were about 11 kids, including Alex and Aidan, and Daddy, who also went in and played laser tag. They also got tokens for the arcade, pizza, and all the drinks they wanted. Very cool! A much better way of spending the day than how I spent it ten years ago!
Yesterday, we ate dinner at Alex's choice of restaurant. We went to the Mexican food buffet place in our town. The food's so-so, but that's what he called, so we sucked it up for one night. I told our server it was Alex's birthday and he came back with a plate full of sopapitas with a glop of ice cream and a candle in the middle of it. Alex had to wear a sombrero while he was seranaded with Happy Birthday, sung in Spanish. Of course, this embarrassed him, but it was definetely worth the picture I got (sorry, it was taken on my cell phone and I haven't figured out yet how to send it to email).
So, happy birthday, Little Man (well, not so little anymore)! Here's wishing you many, many more!
Can you guess the someone who said the following things at the dinner table tonight-- 1) Son #1 2) Son #2 3) Hubby
Scenario #1: Hubby thinks I'm talking to him, but actually I was scolding one of the kids (well, sorta gave that one away). He replies with, "I thought you were talking to me and I'd have to take action against you for it". Someone responds with "She doesn't want that kind of action. She wants love action." Who was it?
Scenario #2: Someone : Can I dip my cookie in my milk?
Me: Well, you always make such a mess...
Someone: I take that as a no.
Scenario #3: Me: You're so cute, I could just eat you with a spoon.
Someone: You're so beautiful, Momma, I could eat you with a knife... well, maybe with a spoon; it's safer.
If you guessed 2) on all those, you were right! Congratulations! You don't win anything, but great for you! You realize I'm in trouble later with him, right?
Sorry I haven't blogged in so long, but this week has been INSANE and because of the holiday, time flew away before I knew it...We had a great weekend, me and my family of squirrels- full of family and friends... but more on that later.
No, more pressing issues at hand around here. I recently joined a bellydance troupe that has breathed new bellydancing life into me. I haven't been able to dance for the past couple months, due to my work schedule. So, when I found out about this troupe that was forming, I jumped at the chance. However, I must say that I really do feel like the special needs addition to the group, though. I would consider everyone else in my troupe as "serious" dancers (meaning that they actually practice and have stage names and all that), and I've always looked at it as good old-fashion stress-relief (you know, shake your ass and all that stress just rolls on out).
We've been trying to come up with actual costumes, which is foreign to me, as well. The group I was in before just went out to Goodwill and concocted their costumes out of whatever they could scrape together. But we're actually looking at real costumes that will look professional and all. I feel like I've been promoted to the majors or something! We also are trying to come up with a troupe name. Of course the "serious" dancers in the troupe have thought up these really cool, exotic-sounding names. But not me... No, I went to this website I was linked to through an email- and mind you, the website is meant to be funny. But still, I did find a couple that were really funny, but also fitting at the same time...
"Wanderers of the Flaming Harem" Hubby thought that as part of our routine, we could ignite ourselves. Would be very cool, but I don't think that fire-retardant bellydancing costumes are very easy to find, make, or affordable.
"Treasures of the Wild Mother" Obviously this one would be describing my children.
"Tribe of the Blue Wind" This one's actually not too bad, I thought. However, if me and Hubby and the boys were to start our own bellydancing troupe, we would have to change the name to "Tribe of the Toxic Wind", due to the vast quantities of "natural gas" produced by the Boys. Wow, imagine the possibilities of combining that troupe with the "Wanderers of the Flaming Harem". That would be one hell of a show!
I would love to hear any suggestions from all of you as to what we could be called- both funny and serious; because otherwise, I'm going with those three and I'm sure I'll be looked at as "special" then.
While reading a fellow blogger in my on-line "neighborhood", I encountered the following question that was posed by a group that I'm a member of: What aspect of motherhood has been most on your mind lately? I responded back with how is my going back to work going to affect my children, or will it? I've been pondering that question- and my response- a lot ever since. My fellow blogger neighbor asked me to go more into detail, when I could... Well, here goes...
For almost ten years, I was blessed to be able to stay at home (I did still "work"- if you consider four shifts per month as "work"). I made that choice as soon as we could get health insurance through my husband's employer. It was great being able to hang out with my children. But money was VERY tight (sometimes it still amazes me that we were able to stretch it so far) and I learned the fine art of "creative financing" pretty quickly. I also learned to take advantage of free opportunities in the community- we spent many days at any of the local parks- and where we live, there are many, thankfully. We also would go to the free movies (so what that they were the same ones we already owned on video- the kids just thought it was cool, watching them on the big screen in an actual movie theater), have numerous play dates with other stay-at-home moms who were too broke to do anything, and go to the library for story time as much as we could.
But, then the time that I had always dreaded- the thing that always was lurking in the back of my mind- happened. The kids started school. And so did all my "mommy friends" 's kids. And slowly, but surely, the play dates became less and less. And the days of sitting alone in the house, counting down the time till the kids were home, became more and more (because it wasn't like I could afford to go do anything really with all my new-found free time). I was beginning to get depressed- and annoyed. I started getting anxious to have something that gave me a sense of worth; something to be proud of.
I always vowed I would NEVER go back to work full time at a hospital. I had grown to absolutely hate the crappy, twelve-hour shifts, (because hospitals don't close for holidays, weekends, or at night). And then it happened: My dream job fell in my lap.
Both my sons have asthma, but at the time I only knew that my younger one did. We had an appointment to have him evaluated at the asthma clinic in our doctor's office. Ironically, I never had even noticed it there before that first appointment. I discovered that the asthma specialist was a fellow respiratory therapist like myself. And it all started to fall together from there...
Nine months later, I came on board with her group. I love this job- which is strange and awesome all at the same time. For the first time ever I feel that I am respected for my brain (what a novel concept), not only by my patients, but also by my fellow peers and even the doctors (shocking, isn't it?). I've been wined and dined by drug reps, I've gone to more training than I think I had for the first fourteen years in my career total. I was given the responsibility of developing, then managing, a pretty significant account that our group was given. I've learned six (soon to be seven) different computer systems and actually know how to use them (even more unbelievable). For the first time in a very long time, I actually feel like an intelligent person, with a career (not job) that is making a difference and touching people's lives positively.
There's just a small (well, maybe not small) glitch... I had to leave my two boys- the two absolute most important people in my life (and yes, I do love Hubby very much, but you Mommies know what I mean)- and give some of that control that I've been solely in charge of for the past almost-ten years to others. Now, I am very, very blessed and THANKFUL to my husband and also to my great friend, Jyl, who have done an awesome job with this transition. But the growing pains are still there for me. Most of the time I can keep them at bay. But I'm finding this time of year to really be making it hard on me. I long to spend the afternoons at the park with them. Or be taking them down to meet Dad for a "special lunch" (hey, anytime lunch didn't consist of PB and J was special). Or be able to pack up and drive up and visit my folks for the day. Is it sad for me to say that I'm glad they only have about 6 more weeks of summer vacation left because I know that I'll be better, once I know I'm not missing out on time with them?
I know I'm not alone with these feelings- I've read others' blogs out there and know I'm not crazy for feeling like this. Now, am I going to quit my job because of it? Oh, hell no. As far as careers go, I've hit gold. I would never, ever let a little mopiness get in the way of this great opportunity. And I know, deep down, that my kids are fine. They don't need me hovering over them anymore- they don't want it anymore. And if I hadn't gone out on a limb and grabbed for it and taken this job, I know I would've probably slowly gone mad. Do I regret working full-time really? No. No, I really don't. And as far as playing with the kids; trust me, I cram it in on the weekends now. And now I can actually afford to do some things that we couldn't really do before... like eat off the regular menu at Wendy's, instead of just the dollar menu.
If this is a reflection of me, I'm not sure what it represents... These are the aritists currently on my iPod: Poi Dog Pondering, Spoon,KT Tunstall, Feist, Sara Bareilles, Foo Fighters, Lily Allen, Koop, Jesus Jackson, Ben Folds Five (which Alex really likes, because of the piano), Joss Stone, Alicia Keys, Christine Aguilera, Bellydancing Breakbeats, Carbon Leaf, Deathcab for Cutie, Counting Crows, Yael Naim, Nouvelle Vague, The Postal Service, Snow Patrol, Jack Johnson, Donavon Frankenreiter, Jason Mraz, Vampire Weekend, Coldplay (Aidan loves Viva la Vida) , Barenaked Ladies.
Growing up in the family I came from, Father’s Day wasn’t a hugely-celebrated event… at least that I can remember, anyway. I was the youngest of four daughters and I honestly feel that by the time I came along, my parents were just plain too tired to care about the day (I would’ve been, if I’d known that I was going to be 40, starting all over again with a baby, after raising three then- teenagers).
It sort of followed the theme of my childhood, which with the whole under-supervised childhood
that I experienced growing up. Since my
family was highly-prolific and easily (sometimes too easily, hence why I’m here
today) reproducible, I do feel they looked at us children as expendable. And I mean that with love. I really feel that we weren’t doted on like
some children because my parents took the mindset of, ”Well, if something
happens to this one, we know we can grow another one pretty easily”. Now, I know my older sisters would disagree
with that sentence about me not being doted on, but please… I don’t consider
being forced outside, no matter if it’s thunderstorming or blizzarding
“doting”. Sorry, Sisters…
But, we do celebrate Father’s- and Mother’s- Day around here. I feel we’ve earned that day (especially after the hell Aidan put us through for the first three years of his life… and the upcoming teenage years he’ll put us through, coming up). So, yesterday, Daddy called it, as far as the itinerary went.
We started off, very unChristianlike, by skipping church
(again). Then, after lunch, we headed out
to the putt-putt golf course. Aidan
lasted oh, about six holes, but Alex had a great time (actually, so did Aidan,
who spent the remainder of the time meandering through the course, disrupting
the other families trying to play). The
best was Alex ricocheting the ball off a
rock, then a shrub, and finally landing it right by the hole. Pretty impressive (not to mention a good
laugh).
Afterward, we went over to Steak and Shake for milkshakes
(well, for the boys and Steve, at least.
Being lactose-intolerant, I got a big Diet Coke. Not
the same as a milkshake).
Then, we went home and Steve and I crashed- me on the couch
and he on the floor, for about an hour.
After my power nap, I grilled us some mighty big steaks and fixed all
the sides and Steve’s favorite dessert, banana pudding. Yum!
Pretty good eats. And very
impressive (again) how we devoured about four pound’s-worth of steak between
the four of us (well, mainly between Steve and Alex).
On an unrelated note, Aidan has gone from Snaggle-toothed to no teeth. He has had these two
teeth, barely hanging on by a thread (literally, I think they were just in
there by a single blood vessel each), for about a month now. He refuses to let us just go ahead and yank
them out, but whimpers every time he eats something that is hard. So yesterday, he spent most of the day
fixated on trying to get at least one of them out. Finally, around bedtime, he managed to wiggle
one of them out. And today the other followed and finally gave up the fight. He still looks like he
has Billy Bob teeth, but at least he doesn’t have a tooth, jutting out of his
mouth at a 90-degree angle anymore. Now
he just has this sort of vampire-teeth look witha gaping hole and two teeth on either side of it. Pretty funny, I must say. And totally a rite of passage of being a
kid—having the jack-o-lantern smile. I
must take more pictures before his teeth are “normal” again-- which won't be too long, since the permanent teeth are already starting to come through. Steve told him that They Might Be Giants has
a song called, “I’ve got a Fang” and that’s so Aidan’s has adopted that as his theme song for right now.
Alex was sitting here while I was entering that last blog and was very mock-offended by me posting about him and Aidan. I told him that when he's old enough, he can blog about his weird freakish mom. He replied with, "Yeah, and I'll write about how my mom was a jerk for gossiping about me on the internet".
Yeah, I know he (the realtor) is right... It just sucks. Because, honestly, Steve and I are lazy people. And... read more
on Wanting to Gouge My Eye Out with a Fork