C & S Mommy

Moving...

2008-09-28T20:04:00.002-05:00

I am going to be posting on a new page from now on. You can find me at:

http://striving-to-be.blogspot.com/

An interesting thing happened on my way home from Pennsylvania...

2008-07-21T13:36:00.000-05:00

I was somewhat upset over the fact that I felt my friends did not recognize me for who I have become – so very different from the angry, aggressive girl I was in college. A fact I was hard pressed to prove after having an argument with my husband minutes after insisting I was not confrontational.

A little history: I met Beth and Jaime (roommates) on my first day of college. I lived on one end of the hall and they lived on the other. We met during our first hall meeting. Sitting on the floor in the hallway I perked up when Beth said she was from Long Island and then Jaime said New Jersey. Kindred spirits based on geography. I spent a lot of time in their room talking, listening to music, hanging out, avoiding my roommate. It has been 12 years since that first day of college. Twelve years since the year we spent supporting each other through break-ups, crushes, hang overs, freak outs, studying crises, parties, disappointments, milestones. The most incongruous part of our friendship is that we only spent that one year together. The next year Beth went to a different school, Jaime was paired with a random girl as a roommate, I moved out of the dorms and shortly after dropped out and moved back home.

Nancy and I had a little less history at first. She started out as Beth’s friend. I spent that whole first year being completely intimidated by her. She was always so cool and well…together. Something I so wasn’t. She and I made a better connection when she moved to NC and we started spending time together. I hate that I missed out on that first year when we were at school but things worked out anyway.

So here I am driving home 12 years later from my girlie weekend with the only girls who have ever consistently been my friends. I spent part of the drive wondering why they couldn’t see how different I was. Then somewhere between West Virginia and Virginia I fell into that fugue state of driving – completely aware of the road and the car but my mind flying back behind me somewhere far in the past. I could spend all day writing about the things I remembered with Jaime and Beth – falling into each other with relief after making it home from the Dancehall Crashers show in Philly in the snow; convincing Jaime not to steal the apple from random old guy Bill’s house; driving home for Thanksgiving (or maybe it was Christmas) with Beth, her dad, and her brother hung over beyond reason… So many things I hadn’t thought about in years. It was then I realized I wasn’t the only way who had changed and maybe they weren’t the only ones not recognizing those changes. These girls have always fulfilled the things I needed at any point in my life. Even now I can go to Jaime when I feel especially crazy and she will always make me feel better, I can call Nancy when I am concerned about Cecilia’s behavior and she will calm me down, Beth is the one I can always turn to when I need a more laid back spin on things. I don’t think I needed an eight hour drive to remind me that I am lucky to have these girls in my life. I already knew that. I think I needed that eight hours of distance to remind me how important it is to not worry how I am being viewed and bask in the fact that I have three people (and by extension of marriage maybe even three more) who love me and care about me just because.

Giving Thanks

2007-11-25T13:38:00.000-05:00

From Wikipedia: Thanksgiving, or Thanksgiving Day, is a traditional North American holiday to give thanks for the things that one has at the conclusion of the harvest season.

Thanksgiving is my favorite holiday. I think I posted last year the reasons why. The biggest one being that I love thinking about all that I have to be thankful for and finding out from other people what they are thankful for. This year, we were all together for Thanksgiving at my mom and dad’s house. Unfortunately, my in-laws did not join us until dessert but it was still an awesome day. I don’t have the big group picture yet (it is an unbelievable picture) so I should probably clarify what all together means so here is the guest list:
Mom
Dad
Dianna – sister
Rob – brother-in-law
Kathy – Dianna’s mother-in-law
Bobby – Dianna’s father-in-law
Michael – Rob’s brother
Shelly – Michael’s girlfriend
Jim – brother
Sandra – sister-in-law
Jake – nephew
Felicia – Jim’s mother-in-law
Juan – Sandra’s brother
Keith – husband
Cecilia – daughter
Sophia – daughter
Joanne – mother-in-law
Ernie – father-in-law
Kyle – brother-in-law
Kristin – sister-in-law
Norbert – co-worker of Ernie’s
Jeanne – Dianna’s friend
Andy – Jeanne’s husband
Abby – Jeanne’s daughter
Ella – Jeanne’s daughter

There was lots of food and drink. It was loud and possibly even slightly rowdy (to some at least). It was wonderful. I always try to quietly look into a room and “catch” people getting along. It makes me so happy to see my mom and mother-in-law holding hands huddled close talking, my two brothers-in-law talking business, my sister-in-law swinging Sophia into the air, my sister engrossed in a conversation with our sister-in-law’s mother, my brother’s brother-in-law and my husband playing that stupid Guitar Heros game in the living room, Cecilia showing off her gameboy to my brother-in-law’s brother. Having had a pretty rough week before Thanksgiving and spending a lot of time questioning God (I will share that in another post) I think, “This is what it is all about.” Here we are 20 some odd people, different and similar, linked by so many different relationships making one day the single best day of the year (at least for me personally). We all have one thing in common, despite everything, we love each other if not for the individual we are then for the individual who loves us. This day will nourish me for a long time.

Quick Update

2007-11-20T16:00:00.000-05:00

I am supposed to be doing laundry and cooking/preparing for Thanksgiving Day. I got on the computer to quickly look at something my friend Laura recommended and got caught up in Nancy's and Angelique's blogs, which has motivated me to finally post. I have been writing with the intention of posting but everything I have started writing I have not finished therefore have not posted. So instead of trying to finish some of the deeper things that have been on my mind I will give a quick update:

Cecilia:
Cecilia is in first grade this year and loving it. She has adjusted so well and I am so proud of her. She is reading at close to a third grade level. Her writing has improved and she has such confidence. We recently went to a fall festival held at her school and my little social butterfly walked through the halls saying hello to children and teachers alike. I marvel at how comfortable she is in her own skin and pray that she hangs on to that throughout the years to come. She is just such a wonder!

Sophia:
My little tornado. For me, being around Sophia is like sitting in the warm sun with an occasional cool breeze washing over me. She is such a joy. She has such a sense humor. I have so many stories about her I don't which one to choose. She sings all the time and is the queen of imitation. The other day I was standing in the kitchen talking to Keith who was leaning with one arm against the counter with one foot crossed in front of him. Sophia comes over and quietly leans one arm on the cabinet and is trying to balance on one foot long enough to cross her other foot in front of her. Having finally accomplished the stance she looks up at me with a little glint in her eye and I know what she wants so I too lean on the counter and cross one foot in front. I steal a look at her and she is starting to giggle and once I look in her eyes she dissolves into a full belly laugh, which is contagious. She loves her big sister and wants to do everything just like Cecilia. She also wants Cecilia to do everything and lets us know by saying, "Celia do it."

Keith:
Keith started a new job in July and loves it. He is working for a company out of New York who opened a new office down here in Kernersville. He loves that things actually get accomplished without a meeting to schedule a meeting to discuss when there will be a meeting to problem solve an issue. I love that he comes home in a good mood.

Me:
I left my permanent position at the hospital. I still work there but instead of having the weekend shift I work as needed filling in here and there. I made this move so I could work a full time, five-day a week job transcribing again. That job lasted two months for several reasons. First of all, I worked for the most evil woman walking the earth. I mean the devil is this lady's minion she is so awful. I actually got in trouble for talking to my coworkers despite the fact I was producing 1000 to 1500 lines a day. Second, transcribing is physically taxing, especially when you do not have the freedom to get up and stretch for 10 minutes. Third, it was really difficult working five days a week and it made me pretty miserable. I really missed being home and having time with the girls and Keith. I honestly think the only word that left my mouth for two months was hurry as in "hurry, get in the car we have to go to school. Hurry, get in the house we have to eat dinner. Hurry, finish up in the shower we have homework to do." It was terrible. Also, and my apologies to the feminist in anyone who will read this, I truly felt like less of a wife. Keith has always done his share of everything and I appreciate that. But I hated not being the one to make phone calls regarding our children or the other things I was doing when I was home during the week. I enjoy being a wife (I suck at it but I am a work in progress). I like cooking dinner and picking up the girls and doing laundry and having things done for when Keith comes home. I like being home when Keith comes home from work. I missed that. So, when it became increasingly obvious that things were not going to improve at my job, Keith encouraged me to quit. Now, I am picking up shifts at the hospital and gearing up to enroll in the nursing assistant program at the community college near my house. After that I may enroll in the phlebotomy course because it is more money and I will need to make extra money while I am attending school to get my nursing degree. This is a huge step for me. Over the last year I have talked myself in and out of going back to school to become a nurse at least three times. So now I am telling people that I am going to do it in the hopes that the more people who know the less likely it is for me to back out of it. I am scared but also pretty excited.

Pretty Cool

2007-05-18T06:02:00.001-05:00

I know I haven't written in a while and I will. In the meantime, I wanted to share this it is pretty cool.

Read my VisualDNA™ Get your own VisualDNA™

Kleptomaniac (n): An obsessive impulse to steal regardless of economic need

2006-12-19T16:51:00.000-05:00

The first person sent to us from the Nanny Service to watch our children was a kleptomaniac. She has not been back in our home since the end of October, however, my white-hot rage over the whole situation has pretty much prevented me from writing about it until now. So here is the story:

I come into the kitchen on a Tuesday morning and Keith asks me what I did with the knives. He goes on to explain that he can’t find four of our knives. I tell him not to worry I will call V and ask her where she may have put them. Then he tells me that we are also missing spoons. That, of course, gives me pause because why the hell would we be missing knives and spoons – strange. After a minute, I tell him that I will call R (the owner of the Nanny Service) to let her know that we are missing things. I ask Keith if he looked in the other drawers for the knives and spoons, as V may not have realized where things went. He said that he had been through the whole kitchen and had made sure Cecilia hadn't taken them. It probably took another full minute for it to fully register in my head that V had taken these things from our home. At that point, I go into my bedroom and check my jewelry to see if anything is missing. It all appears to be there.

My conversation with R does not go exactly as I thought it would. She is not outraged by my news, nor does she appear upset. In fact, she seems pretty unfazed by what I have told her. She tells me she will check with V, as she is sure there is a reasonable explanation for the whole thing. I get off the phone feeling confused and completely invalidated. I wasn’t wanting an all out emotional outburst from R but a little indignation would have been nice. As I go through my normal morning routine, the gravity of what is happening begins to envelop me like a thick fog. My confusion gives way to such intense anger I can barely breathe. The person who I allowed in my home, who I trusted with my children, stole from me. I could barely see straight. I called Keith and raged at him for a while and we agreed that regardless of V’s explanation we would never be able to trust her again and she would, of course, not be allowed in our home. After many phone calls, including one with V that night and the next morning, we realized that V was never going to admit what she had done and we were never going to get our stuff back. R (who later apologized for her lack of reaction to our initial phone call chalking it up to being caught off guard) placed a new sitter and I tried to get past daydreaming of running V down with my car.

Well, getting past it was clearly not going to happen because over the next few weeks I discovered more and more things missing. V had stolen two t-shirts (one a workout shirt), two tank tops (one of my favorites and one workout top), one pair of workout capri pants, one pair of workout pants, a bra, a brand new sweater (never worn), and a gym bag (to apparently carry it all in). Plus six knives and 5-6 spoons. I tired to make light of it. I tried to laugh about it. I dreamed of tearing her little head from her petite little body. The last straw came when I discovered an outfit of Cecilia’s missing. It was all I could take. Stealing from me is one thing stealing from my child…I had no idea the level of rage I could achieve. As I traveled to these new heights of fury, I tried repeatedly to get in touch with R. The only thing I was taking solace in was that V was not working for R anymore. R was going to let her go not because she stole from me (she couldn’t really prove that) but because she broke her contract by working for a family that she interviewed with through the service. Evidently, V didn’t limit her stealing to just material things. As Keith sat on the couch with his jaw clenched silently raging (he is not a yeller like me), I informed R about the latest items taken from our home. Her reaction was slightly better this time. However, in this conversation R informed me that V was still working for her because she couldn’t prove that she was working for that other family. I naively thought that she would have, at the very least, informed the other family that V was accused of stealing but she didn’t do that either. In fact, to make matters worse, the mother of the children V was still watching was going to become R’s business partner. It was all too much for me. Keith and I started discussing alternatives to our current situation because I kept questioning what R was keeping from us about our new babysitter if she wasn’t going to inform this other family about V.

So now Sophia is in a daycare center two days a week and Cecilia goes to an after school care program one day a week. So far things seem to be going well. The daycare center is a four star center with a superior rating. Sophia cries when I drop her off but she seems pretty happy when we pick her up. After our first experience with Cecilia, we are a little nervous. I am keeping an eye out for personality changes in Sophia…nothing yet thankfully. Cecilia’s after school program is great. It is not affiliated with her elementary school unfortunately, as that one was full. It has been three weeks and overall, we are pleased. For right now at least.

As for R, she left me some guilt-laden message about doing her “best” for us and how sorry she was that she couldn’t “accommodate our needs” and that she would be sending a gift card to us to cover our “material loss” from V of which I have yet to see. Cecilia asked why V wasn’t babysitting anymore but didn’t seem too upset over it. She was also a little confused about being sent to the ASP but she is enjoying it too much to really care. I still dream of running into V and beating the ever-living crap out of her, which is actually progress if you think about because I don’t want her dead anymore…

I ran so hard...

2006-10-27T17:30:00.000-05:00

This time I knew it was coming. Watching the clock waiting for the phone to ring. All I wanted was to hear her voice on the other end telling me that everything was fine. Joking about how Rob handled it all – come get the car Rob passed out and bumped his head – the dumb ass. But it wasn’t her it was him. The pause told me what I already knew but he still had to say the words and a little piece of me died with hearing them. Yesterday Dianna knew but I didn’t want to believe it. God wouldn’t do this to us. Not now when so much is going on. Not when we were all praying so hard. Not again when they wanted this so badly. I couldn’t go see her right away. Waiting for Cecilia’s swim lesson to finish I ran on the treadmill. I ran so hard chasing down something to say to her. An answer for her. Anything, really, that would make it better. I ran so hard and still couldn’t catch up to any logic. I went to her and held her saying nothing. We cried together again. Again. Again. AGAIN! Why again? I want to understand. I want to believe that this is nature and not something bigger punishing us. All these things going through my head. Things I want to apologize for: I am sorry that there is a part of me that is relieved that she told everyone and I don’t have to go through this with her alone again. Relieved that I can be a little bit more selfish – a little less strong – a little more sad because she has other people to lean on. I am sorry that I want so desperately for her to try again because I know (I have always known) what a wonderful mother she will be and what a wonderful father Rob will be. I want her to try again because I believe that it will be different – successful. And selfishly I want her to try for me too. I want so desperately to be an aunt to her child. To live up to the standard she has set through my children. I want to be as good as her – or at least close. But who the hell am I? And what does it matter what I think? But most of all I am sorry for not being able to fix her pain. For not being able to say or do that one thing that will take her sadness away. And trust I would do anything – even carry the pain myself – to release her for even just a moment. But it is her burden to carry while the rest of us get to watch powerless. I imagine that if each one of us has our own personal hell that would be mine – watching the people I love struggle while I stand by unable to help.

7 out of 21/148 out of 324

2006-09-29T09:10:00.000-05:00

I ran my second 5k on September 16th. This was a race at the hospital where I work. When I first decided to participate I had not planned on telling very many people. Of course, word spread that I was planning on racing which put some pressure on me. I met up with my friend, Sheila, who is a real runner. She has completed a couple of marathons and half marathons. She was with a couple of other ladies who are runners with Team In Training (for the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society). My two friends from MRI were there also. My main goal for this race was to be able to pace Sheila for most of it. Well…luck happened to be on my side and Sheila was a little off her game having been sick the week before. I actually managed to stay ahead of Sheila the whole race and paced Sonya, who is also an accomplished runner. I finished one minute faster than my first race. I was 7th out of 21 in the female 30-34 group and 148th out of 324 overall. Not too shabby. Next is a 10k.

Yes, I am fully aware that I am slightly addicted now.

And a little toy surprise too!

2006-09-13T20:12:00.000-05:00

I did it!! I ran my first 5k. The WHOLE thing. I was so nervous and came so close to backing out a few times. My friend from work was supposed to do it with me but he had something going on that day. My goals were to run the whole thing and to finish in under 30 minutes. Both of which I did. I even won a little trophy for coming in first place in the female 30-34 group. As I suspected, and just confirmed, I was the ONLY female 30-34 but that is okay. I came in 39th place out of 54. Overall I am pleased. I am ready to do my second 5k on Saturday. I am actually hoping to do this one with one of my friends from the hospital. I am hoping to pace her as best I can. However, she is a real runner so I may be setting myself up. Anyway…here are a couple of pictures:

Five things...

2006-08-04T23:25:00.000-05:00

We were talking at work about the five totally selfish things we would want for ourselves right now. It took me a full 24 hours plus to figure it out. Here are my five:

Lime green VW Bug
Singing lessons
A big kitchen with top of the line everything and all the gadgets I can think of
Writing something (an article or book) that is witty and thought provoking that people reference in conversation as a “must-read”
A whole new wardrobe after I lose all the weight I need to

Yes, it is a little drafty up here on my soapbox

2006-07-29T23:16:00.000-05:00

As I type this I am so mad I can barely speak. I just read an article on MSN.com about “the outrage” sparked by a picture on the cover of Baby Talk magazine. People were actually upset over the picture of a baby breast-feeding on the cover. The main picture is a profile of the baby with part of the breast shown. This is the state of the world today. Brittney Spears can pose naked in all her highly airbrushed pregnant glory with only her hands covering her breasts and we find that acceptable. Show part of a breast with a baby covering it and everyone works themselves into an uproar. One woman went so far as to say her concern was her 13-year-old son seeing it. I bet the same ignorant woman convinces herself as she drifts off to sleep at night that her precious son is not being exposed to worse through the violent, sex filled video games that are out now and ever so popular. God forbid she may have to explain to her son the natural process a mother’s body goes through after pregnancy. What will he want to know about next?? How the baby was conceived?
What blows my mind even more is that even women who breast feed or have breast fed in the past are opposed to this particular magazine cover. They also admit to not breast feeding in public because of the comments and judgement passed on them. I am having such a problem with this mentality. I guarantee these are the same women snickering behind their hands and sending superior glances at each other when another mother admits openly that she has decided to bottle feed her baby. Before I even go on I need to state for the record that I only breast fed my first child for a couple of weeks and my second not at all. I also have a very rigid stance on women breast feeding children old enough to say, “Hey mom how about that boob, I’m thirsty.” However, I do not oppose breast feeding in and of itself. In fact, I give women credit when they are able to breast feed. I would much rather see a baby at his mother’s breast than to have to hear said child screaming bloody murder because they are hungry but cannot be accommodated because “well what would people think?” And what exactly do people think? “Oh imagine the nerve of that women providing nourishment for her child?” Huh?The article also states that some people feel that the uneasiness is also felt by women whose husband may not be comfortable in the presence of a woman who “whips out her breast” in order to nourish her child. Crazy. I am positive it is because these women have had an experience where they were out in public and witnessed a mother make an announcement that she will now be exposing her breast for anyone who was interested. I am certain that women then did a little shimmy for the benefit of all who may be watching her and her naked breast before she began feeding her child. Now we do need to bear in mind that regardless of what it is being used for a breast is a sexual part of a female’s body for a male and has no other use but to titillate them. Therefore any glimpse of it may send him into a blinding fit of desire where he may loose all control and therefore not be responsible for his actions. Seriously though, what planet do these people come from? I have no doubt that there are sick people who get pleasure out of breast feeding in public. But that is a whole other issue beyond the natural occurrence of a female’s body producing milk that is meant to feed her baby – the operative word being natural. Basically what people are conveying is that we are perfectly comfortable sitting in a movie theater surrounded by perfect strangers as we watch a steamy sex scene that was once only suitable for soft porn but we get squeamish when a woman discreetly uncovers her breast to nurture her child. Oh the horror!! Breast feeding is a natural part of motherhood. It has nothing to do with sex or the desire to expose one’s self. Just like I would expect a non-nursing mother to feed her child from a bottle publicly if it is lunchtime, I would hope the same for a nursing mother whose child feeds from her breast.

Phone conversation with my mother-in-law

2006-07-27T16:09:00.000-05:00

I discovered something so amazing (actually two things) while having a conversation with my mother-in-law this morning. We were having our weekly conversation where we cram the goings on in our lives in a 15-minute phone call while she is on her way to work. These phone calls start off with, “I know you are busy so I won’t keep you,” and consist of how are the babies? Her. And (insert name of child here) did the funniest thing the other day. Me. In between we may talk about our upcoming schedules or plans that we may have made. The idea to get through these conversations is to answer the question you were asked and add in another question that has nothing to do with the original question. It is kind of the way my sister and I talk normally so I have no problem handling these conversations though sometimes I do have to close my eyes for five minutes after getting off the phone (I am not sure if that has to do with the course of the conversation or just who I am speaking with). The calls then end with the realization that we are going to need to place another phone call to each other at a better time to solidify plans or just to have a normal leisurely, give and take conversation that does not include an “On your marks, get set, GO!” mindset. Then we figure out the best time to talk, say our love yous and goodbyes and hang up. The insanity of these calls is not lost on me nor is the knowledge that I will be repeating roughly three-quarters of what I just said to her as well convincing her that she did indeed tell me the latest about a particular subject. However, we continue to have these conversations regularly.

Today I actually benefited greatly from one of our beat-the-clock conversations even though it was really no different. The topics were my dad who had surgery the beginning of this week and Keith’s upcoming weeklong training in CA at the end of August. While simultaneously discussing my dad’s amazing capacity to tolerate pain, whether Cecilia would like to see the Wiggles at the coliseum the day she is staying with them while I am at work and Keith is in CA, and how I got someone to cover my hours so I could have that Sunday off I made a comment that kind of embarrassed me and I tried to explain before she realized what I had said. The comment was, “Even though I am working until 11 I am so looking forward to coming home to an empty house that Saturday night.” I then tried to explain – quickly – that it was not that I was happy that Keith would be gone. Before I could get the explanation out my mother-in-law was readily agreeing with me stating that you had to be selfish with your time after you had kids. That is when it dawned on me – I am a selfish person. I also realized that I am not completely comfortable with that and tend to make excuses or feel guilty about it but I will deal with that another time. Right now I am just so excited because I have never in my life even considered the possibility of being selfish. I have always been the type of person who would stay on the phone for hours with a friend while she cried about breaking up with her boyfriend for the 40th time that week even though I had to get up early for work the next day. The person who kept all the phone ringers on high and my cell phone on my nightstand just in case. But ever since having kids I have stopped being that person. Granted the few friends that I have don’t really have boyfriends to break up with or late night drunken encounters with tuna fish cans and have to be rushed to the ER but still. Now only one phone in my house rings. My cell phone stays in the kitchen when I am sleeping and even sometimes when I am awake and forget it when I leave the house. And when I have that very rare free time (husband and kid free) I usually take advantage of it by curling up on the couch with a glass of wine and a book. I may even turn the phone off. I have learned the splendor of saying no and it is just not a good time. It took having kids – little people to whom I devout much of my time and energy – to truly understand the beauty of being selfish with my time. It may not be much to some but for me I find it indulgently wonderful!

Seven Years

2006-07-24T12:56:00.001-05:00

In a week, I will be celebrating my seven-year wedding anniversary with Keith. It is so crazy that it has been seven years. On the one hand, the time has gone by so fast it feels like we just met yesterday. On the other hand I think, “Good Lord we have been together forever! How have we not killed each other?” I often say that Keith should be sainted just for putting up with me at all nevermind for vowing to spend the rest of his life with me.

Like with every other annual event that takes place in my life, my upcoming anniversary has me reflecting on the past 8-9 years. I am a little awestruck with how each experience – good, bad, and indifferent – allowed me to arrive here. Whether a person believes in fate or God or something else all together the fact is when you go back and connect the dots forward, from who you were to who you are now, it is hard to believe that there wasn’t some otherworldly force guiding you (or in my case shoving me) on this very specific path.

If someone had asked me nine years ago where I would be today I would have never said here. Here as in NC and here as in married with two children. I never dreamed of getting married. Having kids was something I just figured I would eventually do. I wanted to get out of NY and go back to school and that was about as far as my plan went. Then Keith came into my life. Our story is certainly not a love-at-first-sight-sweep-you-off-your-feet kind of romance. It is also not some drama-filled saga with an epic ending. We were just two people with different backgrounds but the same basic upbringing heading in the same direction just on different paths. I guess you can kind of say we were looking for each other but we didn’t know it. Well at least I didn’t know. For him to tell it he knew from when he met me. How we wound up together is something I still marvel at. I have been asked so many times how I knew I wanted to marry Keith and I get somewhat strange looks when I answer. The truth (and what I always answer) is that I started figuring out all the things that annoyed me about him and they didn’t matter. I knew my life would go on if we weren’t together I just didn’t want to be without him. Not really an answer that brings to mind scenes from “The Notebook,” but our history, in it’s own right, is very touching. Not because it has the makings of the next greatest love story but because it’s ours. And seven years later I can still say the same things…well sort of. The things that annoy me about him matter a little more at times and I go through periods when I think that maybe my life wouldn’t go on without him in it. But the basis of my love is still the same just way more enriched.

Running: A State of Mind?

2006-07-03T22:46:00.000-05:00

So I read this article from a guy who started running late in his life (kind of like me). The basis of the article was why people run and it really got me thinking. I started running because finally I could. I pretty much had something to prove to myself. Mainly, I wanted to prove that the true reason I didn’t run before was physical and once the physical aspect holding me back was rectified I could do it. It seems so simple – running. How hard could it be? Well… Hard? Not necessarily. Humbling? Uh, yeah. I started last summer sort of but have been doing it regularly since January and I LOVE it. I didn’t at first and felt so many times that it was time for me to throw in my proverbial towel and just resign myself to the fact that running isn’t for everyone. But I persevered and here I am running a total of 3 miles (one mile at a time with two laps of walking in between) and walking one mile in between. I am so proud of myself and feel a true sense of accomplishment I have not felt since I danced regularly in high school. “…the miracle is that we had the courage to start…” I love this quote from the article because that is exactly how I feel. I made it so public that I was going to start running that I felt for a while that I had set myself up to fail. Every day that I went running and couldn’t get over the 4-minute run/2-minute walk mark I felt like such an ass for sharing with sooo many people that I was going to run. I probably could have stopped at that point. Technically I had proved that I could run – I mean 4 minutes of running is nothing to dismiss when you never ran a day in your life. But I kept going and that article has got me wondering why. The reason of because I could had long since ended and had been replaced with something else I just didn’t realize it until now. The article suggests that maybe we are running toward something or away from something. For a while I joked that I was running toward a skinnier me (not really joked because it was true). Now, though, there is something so much more to it. Yes, it is the sense of accomplishment and the competition I have going against myself (complete with trash-talking), but it is so much more.

I have re-read the article a bunch of times trying to figure it out. Nothing was coming to me and I was getting quite frustrated. I sat here staring at the article when this jumped out at me:
“Our running shoes are really erasers. Every step erases some memory of a past failure. Every mile brings us closer to a clean slate. Each foot strike rubs away a word, a look, or an event which led us to believe that success was beyond our grasp.”
And I thought YES! That is it. I am running away from the ugly things in my past. The things that have shaped the more negative aspects of my personality. The times that I had been underestimated and gave up. The times I was told that I wasn't enough or even worse that I was too much. I love the thought of that – the idea, the symbolism – it gives me chills. It makes me feel I can accomplish things. Maybe a healthier self-image? A better career direction? Mental health? I haven’t figured it out yet but I think the more I run the closer I will get to it.

Pictures

2006-05-29T20:06:00.000-05:00

Graduation day.

Sophia.

Well this is a little confusing...

2006-05-29T19:40:00.000-05:00

I haven't been able to write because I haven't been able to focus long enough to express exactly what I am thinking. I start to type but my brain is in such a jumble that it comes out as these random thoughts that make absolutely no sense. So I have all these things happening and no real outlet because my mind is a mess. Which is strange since that usually happens when I am inundated with less positive things and that is not really the case. Anyway...here is a quick update so I can feel a little connected with the few people who may happen to read this:

Cecilia graduated from preschool last week. It is so very exciting and scary. I felt okay with having a kid in preschool but now I have a "school-aged" child which is a little freaky to me. Stupid, I know.
I am really liking my job in the ER. It is busy and I have lots of use. It is also pretty rewarding. It seems like almost everyone has an appreciation for the role I play throughout my shift and at least one person thanks me at least one time during my shift. But that is also a mixed bag because being where I am and doing what I do just makes me want to do more. Be better. Kick myself in the ass for putting off going back to school. So as much as I like my job I also kind of hate it because I want...well...more.
Building on the previous point I still haven't the faintest idea what I should go back to school for. I have considered taking a few classes and just seeing where they lead. But then I think I don't have the time or the finances to really do that. And despite knowing that I would benefit just from getting back into it, I thirst for an actual path - a set goal - knowing what the prize will be at the end.
I haven't been able to run too often but I have definitely gotten better. I am running/walking a total of three miles - two of which are running in half mile increments. It is pretty exciting because I feel better with the running (a little more natural). I think part of why it is easier is because I have lost some weight so I am hauling a slightly less fat ass around the track. But of course, once again, it is bitter sweet because now I feel like I am not losing fast enough or running well enough. I truly am my own worst enemy.

I have more going through my head but nothing I am willing to write about yet.

Teeth are the devil’s minions

2006-03-30T11:26:00.000-05:00

So I had to have three teeth refilled on Tuesday because the old fillings were breaking and blah blah all that nasty talk about decay and bacteria and abscess. Yuck! Anyway…besides being cranky over having to pay a small fortune my mouth now feels sore and stretched and just overall unhappy. I am at the point now where I wish I had just left it alone since it seems to be bothering me more now than it did before I had 12 instruments and two sets have hands poking around in there. As far as I am concerned having teeth is overrated.

On a better front (I think)...I got the unit secretary job in the emergency room I interviewed for forever ago. It has been so long since the interview that I had basically talked myself out of wanting it. I was just reaching the It-wouldn’t-have-been-a-good-schedule-I-don’t-know-what-I-was-thinking point when they called. Now I am a bundle of questioning, second-guessing nerves. Once I get all the information I know I will feel better but until then…. UUUUUUUUGGGGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHH!

Chasing down a slimmer me

2006-03-07T11:26:00.000-05:00

Before she wasn’t even in sight but now I can see her. She is in the far off distance and she has the energy to run around with my kids. And that is keeping me moving. I have been “running” for the last few months on and off but have been trying to get serious about it the past few weeks or so. I use the term running loosely because I am doing this run/walk program type thing to build up my endurance, which is nonexistent, and because I have never run before now. I am following a program from some running guy and it was going pretty well until I had to run for five minutes straight. I thought I would die before I was even close to the five-minute mark. Although I lived my motivation died a quick but horribly painful death. A couple of girls I work with are runners of the stick thin variety. They have offered for me to go running with them but I would sooner nail one foot to the ground and run in circles for eternity. I keep trying to explain to one of them that trying to heft all this extra weight on these thick but feeble legs is just not working out for me and that I am unable to get past the three minute run mark. I tell her that it is the equivalent of her carrying me while she runs. She of course finds that hysterical the skinny bitch. I say this in good fun because she has really been helpful with her faith in me. I get into all of this because last night she challenged me to run five minutes one time in my “3 minute run/3 minute walk five times” cycle. She said to picture myself chasing after her so I could kick her ass for even suggesting it. So after I put Sophia down for her morning nap I reluctantly got on the treadmill wanting to do it but preparing myself to fail. Instead of picturing my friend, I pictured the slimmer me I was talking about before. Well I didn’t run five minutes…I ran six and then I ran four 3-minute cycles. (Right now in pure joy I am doing the cabbage patch dance.) I did not find “THE ZONE” that everyone who runs talks about but I did discover the runner’s high. That feeling that I accomplished something. Despite the monotony of running on a treadmill I actually got somewhere. I feel pretty damn cool right now.

Jumping on the Bandwagon

2006-02-16T09:57:00.000-05:00

Following Nancy's lead, I have created a Johari Window. Contribute if you would like:

http://kevan.org/johari?name=debwitten

Trying to look at the positive

2006-02-13T13:01:00.000-05:00

Things that sustain me:

Hearing Sophia’s baby laugh
Cecilia randomly saying “I love you, mommy”
Finding out that when I was at one of my lowest and lonliest points someone loved me (even if I didn't know it at the time)
Having my sister to talk to everyday
Keith marrying me when he knew I was crazy and still loving me now despite the fact that I am even crazier
Random calls from one of my closest friends just checking in (Thanks, Nancy!!!)

Don't worry this will only hurt for a second.

2006-01-31T10:29:00.000-05:00

I have always had the hardest time asking for help, especially when it involves my mental stability/health. Actually, I don’t often share that side of my life to many people. I also know that nobody but a professional can really help in the way I need it. The actual seeking of help instills such a deep, crippling fear in me. Not that I haven’t had therapy before (my mom divorced when I was young; my whole childhood was spent in therapy) but it is different now. My fear is not of the help but more about being exposed as the fraud I am. I pride myself for presenting my mentally healthy façade to everyone I come in contact with (including my family). Keith is the only one who really knows but it is so clearly out of his realm that I feel more that it was a mistake to reveal so much than relief that I finally have someone who shares the whole secret and still loves me. Some people may think that it would have been impossible to hide this from him but to a large degree that would underestimate that ability to hide that I have honed for years. Faking normalcy is not that big of a deal in and of itself, it is what it represents to other people that makes me feel so...well, fraudulent. It is a mystery to me why but I often get the opportunity to give advice to other people; I dare say pretty decent advice sometimes. To my ears it is so rational sounding and I realize the impression I give people – the impression that I am so normal, so together. It makes me wonder if most counselors, therapists, head shrinkers are actually crazy people masquerading as sane harbors in their patient’s turbulent sea of madness. Handing out these sensible solutions, advice they themselves can’t follow or implement in their own lives, to needy people just looking for something or someone to grasp onto. Does it ring as false in their heads as it does in mine when I do it? The few times I have lost my composure (to my mom or sister mostly) I have made them feel so uncomfortable that I struggle to get myself together to satisfy their need to not believe I am crazy. And with a sheepish “Sorry I don’t know what happened there” apology from me we continue on the comfortable path of “what we don’t talk about doesn’t exist.” So what happens if I stop faking? What will everyone think? What will they do? What will I do? Who will I be if I am not the person I built for the outside world?

Christmas Angels

2005-12-16T09:58:00.000-05:00

This week has been an amazing lesson for me in the kindness of others. After my horribly stressful week last week I have been trudging through this holiday season with my eyes closed and a “just get me through it” attitude. This week some of the girls that I work with showed me that a little bit of thoughtfulness can go a long way. One of the things that has been stressing me out is the upcoming Christmas season and being able to have presents for the girls (Cecilia mainly) on Christmas Day. As much I understand the “reason for the season” I am not blind to the fact that Cecilia, at age five, is going to expect Santa to come through with some cool new things for her. Having to shell out a phenomenal amount of money to get the heat fixed put a huge damper on our Christmas shopping. Being a pretty even-tempered and happy person at work (no really), I think the girls were taken aback by my falling to pieces last week when I found out about the cost of fixing the heat. All I could think about was Christmas and trying to figure out what we could do. Anyway…These beautiful women surprised me with gifts for the girls. Six people that I have only known for three months dipped into their own wallets to make sure that the girls would have some presents under the tree on Christmas morning. And I don’t mean any old thing. They shopped for brand new toys…things that they have heard me say Cecilia was interested in. I was shocked speechless. I have worked in a lot of places with a lot of people but never has anyone ever done anything so thoughtful for me never mind a whole group of people. These ladies have touched my heart in a way that I will never be able to verbalize. It’s not about the presents because we honestly would have made do with whatever we were able to buy and Cecilia is a good girl and would have been happy. But the fact that these people that I barely know would think to do this just…it still makes me speechless.

Merry **!#!(*! Christmas

2005-12-10T17:39:00.000-05:00

I am writing to say I have nothing productive to write because I am in such a foul mood I can't even stand to be around myself. Things are not merry. Things suck. I hate this holiday season more than life!! I want to skip this whole season and just let 2006 start with the hopes that it HAS to be better than this year. Hoping at this point is about as effective as wishing on stars.
Sorry for all the negative energy.

I am really writing in hopes somebody has something uplifting and positive to say/share with me.

I am supposed to be thankful and all I can feel is stressed…

2005-11-23T22:03:00.000-05:00

This time of year, at least from my understanding, is supposed to be a time to reflect on all the things that we are thankful for. I am all about reflection and feeling thankful for that matter. I love this time of year when I can sit down and really think about the people and things I am grateful to have in my life. It makes me even happier when I catch myself saying something out loud about being grateful and nobody looks at me with fear flashing in their eyes thinking I am next going to take out my bible to start thumping. However, this year all I feel is stress. There have been so many sad things happening around me. My friend’s mom has cancer, my other friend’s dad is in the hospital not in good shape, some other personal stuff with me and with my family members. I just feel like it is all too much to handle. I want to be thankful for the fact that I have friends to worry about and family to be around but all I can think is AAAAAAHHHHHHHAAAAAAAHHHHHHH!!! I feel selfish. Like I want to fix things for other people so I can get back to reflecting on my life. Isn’t that the dumbest thing?

The Doubt Comes Marching In...

2005-11-16T09:44:00.000-05:00

Keith, Cecilia, and I went to see the school on Monday. It was everything we hoped for and then again it wasn’t. The fact that the school didn’t measure up is not the fault of the school or the faculty the blame completely lies on me. Inside my head lives the ideal school I would send my children to. It has the perfect combination of discipline and disorder. It would allow children to be children yet foster the desire to “grow up” but not be “grown up.” There, Cecilia, and eventually Sophia, would be in an environment where she could be herself and learn all the necessary things required for life. In my head, the parents would be involved but not too involved. They would be friendly but not cliquy and we would all have our “place” within the school dynamic. It’s a lovely place in my head, really. I am, however, rooted in reality (at least about this) and I know that school doesn’t actually exist. Not to say there aren’t good schools out there but when trying to decide if I am going to uproot Cecilia from all that is familiar and comfortable the school has to be better than good. So these are the questions I am dealing with now:

Will the change be too much for Cecilia to handle?
Will she be too far behind and unable to catch up with the other kids?
Do I really want to trap Sophia in the car for a total of two hours a day trekking back and forth from the school when Cecilia’s current school is right down the block?
Is the problem I have with Cecilia’s progress the school’s fault or mine and Keith’s for not working more often with her as far as practicing her writing, etc?
Am I being too critical because of my personal feelings about the other parents and the director?
Will changing schools accomplish what we hope with her academic progress as well as her attitude?
If we change schools and she can’t catch up and doesn’t adjust well, what do we do then?

Keith and I have decided not to make any final decisions until we get Cecilia’s evaluation from her present school next week. Until then I guess I will just keep stressing. Having to be responsible for another human being really sucks sometimes.

Changing Schools

2005-11-13T15:55:00.000-05:00

Keith and I have decided that we are more than likely going to change Cecilia’s school after Thanksgiving. It isn’t one thing that has brought us to this decision but a lot of things that kind of all came together this week. Of course, the fact that I don’t really like any of the other mothers was a factor but not the deciding one. However, I can say without self-consciousness that I will be so relieved not to hear “good morning, Cecilia’s mommy” in a high pitched sing-songy voice that is worse than nails across a chalkboard ever again. The more “real” reasons are that I have had kind of an uneasy feeling about this school year since it started. I have gotten the feeling, based on several remarks made by both her teachers, that Cecilia’s reputation from last year has followed her to this year and that she is not being “forgiven” for some of her behavior last year. I know that it is normal for teachers to discuss key factors about their students to the teachers they are moving on to but anyone who is familiar with children knows that there is a huge difference between a child that is 3 going on 4 and a child that is 4 going on 5. That said, I don’t think it is necessary to make comparisons of Cecilia’s behavior from last year to this year (even if some of it is “similar” in one person’s opinion). She should be able to start the year with a clean slate and allow time to determine how she is going to be “labeled.” Besides, I see the changes in her and I know she has matured since last year and the control she has over her emotions is phenomenal compared to last year. However, she is still five and, I feel, should still behave like a five-year-old child not a five-year-old automaton. I just don’t think that she is being appreciated for the unique person she is. I know I sound like one of those parents who think their child can do no wrong but that is not what I mean when I say she is not being appreciated. Cecilia has certain aspects of her personality that I have not seen in other five-year-old children. For example: Tuesday, Cecilia had her five-year checkup. Unlike a lot of children, Cecilia is totally at ease going to the doctor and is unfazed by any of it. At the beginning of the appointment I am handed a set of papers to fill out to determine her motor skills and whatnot. This one is a little different than her past sheets. Some of the questions are actually questions I have to pose to her and then write down her response. The first question is what do you do when you are hungry? Cecilia is standing in a little paper gown next to me when I ask her what she does when she is hungry. She looks at me for a second then this little smile crosses her face and with a tilt of her head she says, “Um…starve.” The next question is what do you do when you are tired? Cecilia’s response: “Yawn.” Not normal responses but not totally abnormal responses either. But still once again I am amazed by her sense of humor and just the stark honesty of her personality. Something I love so much about her. It is these things about her that I think are going unnoticed in such a big class with a lot of rambunctious children (mostly boys) and a very set opinion that followed her from last year that she is one of those “wild, not able to behave” children. (Just as an aside: I have seen her in action at school and I can honestly say she is not the most wild or out of control in comparison to others. Maybe she was having a good day that particular day but if it is her pattern she had amazing control not to display when I was around). I do have a keen understanding that this is just the tip of the iceberg when it comes to class sizes and as she goes through school her class will be close to 30-35 students but at this stage I think it is important for her uniqueness to be embraced now before she goes into the typical classroom setting where she will be expected to behave like all the other children. Maybe I am wrong about this and maybe we will be lucky and she will get that one special teacher that knows how to treat and teach kids as individuals even if she has 30 kids each with a different temperament and personality. Anyway…as much as I don’t want to be one of those parents that pull their kid out of a bad situation instead of allowing them the experience of dealing with the reality that things don’t always go as planned, I think this is different. She is five and she is relatively happy in this school. I just think she could be getting more out of it. So after much soul searching, list writing, and talking we have made this decision. Is it the right one? We may never really know for sure if, in the overall scheme of things, this is the right thing to do. However, after one very bad preschool experience I am going with my gut on this one. And if I screw her up? Well, I’ll pay for her therapy.

Cecilia's First Real B-day Pary/My Worst Nightmare

2005-10-17T04:49:00.000-05:00

Since Cecilia turned five this year, Keith and I decided that it was time she have her first birthday party with her friends from school. We have been trying to figure out what kind of party to have and where, as there are 17 boys and girls in her class. After pricing a bunch of places and deciding they were way too expensive, we convinced Cecilia to have a girls only party at home. For weeks I have been making tiaras out of beads, pipe cleaners, and headbands. My mom made little tool skirts with ribbons and I found these cute snap braceletes with a big pink flower on it. I had visions of the girls walking in picking out a costume set and running around ribbons flying in their wake. We planned the party for just the right amount of time (an hour and a half) to allow the girls to do a craft, open presents, eat cake, break a pinata, and go home. I sent out the invitations with an RSVP request and waited. One person responded from Cecilia's class and the girl from next door responded. People in the South are terrible about RSVPing so I didn't think too much about it at first. As the party drew closer I asked several people for their opinions about contacting these people to see if they were coming. Everyone told me that I shouldn't because people in the South don't RSVP. I did call one girl's mom because I has to respond to the adult party she was throwing (some dumb ass tupperware-type party). I left message asking her to call me back and let me know if her daughter would attend. Nothing. Anyway...One girl showed up to Cecilia's party. ONE GIRL! My heart broke for her. No that's a lie...my heart broke for me. All the planning, all the excitment of having her first party, all the money... Cecilia, on the other hand, was fine. She had a great time with the girl from her class and the girl next door (who had to leave early). She made mention of the other girls a couple of times but was not upset. After the girl left and Keith was opening the packages from her gifts, I hid in the kitchen with my sister and cried. Later Cecilia said to me, "Mommy I wish the other girls could have come to my party but that's okay maybe they can come next October when I turn six." I don't know if I have mentioned how wonderful I think my daughter is.
Keith said it best when he said that at this age it is not about the kids it is about the parents. That is so true. Now I have to face these shitty ass people in two weeks for a Halloween event at the school and I don't know what I am going to do. I feel so disrespected that they didn't even think enough to call to say they were not going to come. I am just thankful that it happened this year when Cecilia is still young enough not to be hurt by it.

Angry Angry Angry

2005-10-12T04:40:00.000-05:00

This is one of those weeks when I feel like I want to rip everyone's head off for very little reason. I am so damn sensitive and everything seems to be setting me off. Keith and I have done nothing but fight which is making me so depressed especially yesterday because it was Cecilia's birthday and we should have been celebrating how lucky we are to have a healthy, happy child. All week I have been trying to count my blessings and snap out of it but it is just not working. UUUUUUUUUHHHHHHHHHHHHGGGGGGGGGG!

Eat the crap they shovel with a grin

2005-09-25T17:50:00.000-05:00

So I have been back to work for two weeks now which is why I have been so slack about writing. I forgot how exhausting working with other people is. I don't remember it ever being this tough though. Maybe I am just out of practice. But for eight hours a day I have to be nice and at least slightly upbeat. If I am caught just sitting and being quiet (which apparently I have done often in the last five years of working from home though no one who knows me would believe it and I honestly didn't realize it) I have to answer the "are you okay" questions. When I worked before I had Cecilia I was always that person who tried to make everyone feel comfortable. I would eat lunch with the new person who was sitting by herself and try to find commonalities between people. Like a little social director, how annoying! But now I just want to go to work and come home. It has been really hard to leave in the mornings and during down times I find myself wishing I was home. The other night I almost woke Keith up to beg him to let me work from home again with promises that I would work specific hours and I wouldn't get crazy about how much work there was to do and I would take off every weekend and I wouldn't wake up at 4am anymore to work. But he has been so happy about this and I don't want to let him down. And I am not so sure I could keep those promises because the work is always here and I am compelled to get it done even though I know the hours I keep to do it are unhealthy. But I miss being home. I miss my babies. I miss not having to talk to people. I miss my alone time. I miss all the things I thought I wanted to have by working away from the house. Does that even make sense?

Rant

2005-09-08T15:02:00.000-05:00

I do not think there is a phrase I hate more than “just gonna.” Keith is famous for using this phrase except his meaning is so different from mine so it grates on my nerves every time it comes out of his mouth. Like when I have spent most of a Saturday morning in the office working and he has spent most of the same morning on the couch, I will start sorting through the never diminishing (despite our best efforts) pile of crap on the kitchen table and he will look up from the couch and say “I was just gonna do that.” Or when we talk about getting Sophia’s stuff together for our weekly trip to my parents or his parents for family dinner as I am getting in the shower and after I am showered and dressed and ask him if he is ready to go he says “I was just gonna get Sophia’s stuff ready.” See for me “just gonna” happens in a situation like when I have picked up the phone to call my sister and my finger is just about to press the on button to dial and it rings (practically causing me to fling the phone across the room in surprise) and when I hear my sister’s voice after saying hello I say “I was just gonna call you.”
So is this a guy thing? A procrastinator’s thing? I know that I am a little OCD when it comes to mentally planning my day and I get a little schizy when I feel like I am behind in some way but this is just strange to me. If getting skewed from my schedule gets me a little freaked out, Keith’s lack of planning (for everything) makes me downright twitchy. Then I start thinking about Cecilia and Sophia. I certainly don’t want them to be like me and get crazy if the things they have planned don’t go according to schedule but I am not so sure I want them to be as laid back as Keith. Having children is hard. It has made me so much more aware of my downfalls and so much more aware of the things that bug me about Keith’s habits (have I mentioned before that I am a horrible wife). More than the girls getting sick or hurt I worry about passing on my neuroses.
Okay that was a weird subject jump. Too much on my mind…

What's with today today?

2005-09-01T05:39:00.000-05:00

Having a blah day and it is only 6:30 in the morning. Not that I expect to cartwheel out of bed everyday but it is strange to me that a person can have a bad day before they have even have the opportunity for something to go wrong. I just woke up feeling this heavy, lonely, friendless kind of feeling. Maybe I should go back to bed and start over.

Re-entering the work force...

2005-08-25T03:03:00.000-05:00

and scared as hell.
I got the job. I understand that statement should be followed by a couple of exclamation points but, as I am happy I got the job, I am apprehensive for so many reasons. Here are a few:

I haven't worked in an office setting since I went out on early maternity leave before Cecilia in September 2000.
I have to leave my babies for the whole day for maybe a month or more.
I will no longer have control over how much money I make (ie working my ass off when I know someone's birthday is coming up or when we need something important).
My training is full-time during the day, 8-4:30, requiring me to actually get up, shower, and get dressed on a fairly strict schedule.
I have to leave my babies for the whole day during this training period which may take as long as a month plus.
Did I mention I have to leave my babies?

However, not to sound so much the crazy mom, here are the good things:

My actual working hours after training are going to be 4pm - 8pm.
I get to wear scrubs to work (so much like the PJs I often work in now).
I am still going to transcribe some so I will have a little financial control.
I will actually get a set paycheck on a set schedule making it so much easier to budget.
I dream that in taking this job, with it's fabulously set working hours, I will manage to actually get things done - like cleaning my house.

I hoped to accomplish making myself feel better by making these lists but now I am just a mass of terrified perspective.

Freaking out a little

2005-08-24T05:04:00.000-05:00

So today I have a job interview. I can't remember the last job interview I had. However, I do remember that I was a lot smaller and had a lot more clothes available to me. I had a total fit last night because the full reality of my fatness hit me when my XXL top still felt a little snug. My downward spiral continued as I went through my closet and discovered that I truly have nothing to wear to this interview. I know I have been out of it for a while but I also know that you have to have at least the slightest appearance of professionalism on sight to be considered for a job. All I have is looking like a schlub in ill-fitting clothes and my own personal knowledge that I CAN do this job and do it well. As I woke up this morning to work (my at-home job), I had this image of me walking up to the guy that I am interviewing with really fast so he doesn't notice what I am wearing. But then I worry about Murphy's Law and the fact that I would probably wind up getting tangled in my feet or something and knocking him unconscious. Seriously, I am going to start a list of the things I think anxious (crazy) people should be exempt from.

Being the Ugly Duckling

2005-08-22T20:31:00.000-05:00

Apparently, I am having a pity party kind of day and I now feel the need to share my inadequacies. My whole life, I have been the Ugly Duckling. I mean it seriously. You know how in every group of beautiful people there is always that one that is not as attractive, maybe heavier, less intelligent, just an all around not quite fitting in type of person. The type of person that always takes people by surprise when she is seen with the beautiful people and they realize that she is actually part of the group. Well that has always been me. I don’t say this because I feel sorry for myself. Honestly, there is a sort of comfort in being the Ugly Duckling. Like a lack of expectation from other people. Or maybe the comfort comes from just always being that person. However, there are times that it gets to me. Tonight is the perfect example. My sister-in-law – beautiful, young, perfect hair, perfect body, wears a little too much makeup but it doesn’t bother anyone else but me, always dressed in the latest fashions but not in a weird trendy kind of way – came to visit tonight at my in-law’s house. She is a bit of a princess but overall she is great and I love her with all my heart. Anyway…I mention that I have started a running program. Believe me I use the term running loosely because my endurance is crap and at this moment in time I can barely speed walk. But those of you who know me know that I have always wanted to run but have never been able to and given recent developments over the last couple of years it is now possible for me to do it. Now my sister-in-law was a high school cheerleader, runs for fun, and did I mention the perfect body? She tells me how great she thinks it is and then tells me that she is going to be running a mini-marathon. Normally this wouldn’t bother me but I am having a pity party day. I smiled and made the appropriate encouragement phrases but the whole time I was thinking, “Again! How the hell does this keep happening to me??” My dream is that one day I will do something that no one can one up, I will be the swan, and for that short moment I will revel in being one of the beautiful people, just once. And the world will spin off its axis for a split second. Then I will go back to being the Ugly Duckling and the world will right itself again. I would probably hate it even for a second. Then again, who knows? It might be kind of cool.

Deep Thoughts

2005-08-10T12:22:00.000-05:00

I am sorry to admit that I watched the Real World last night. I could give excuses that I watched it because I was so tired and there was nothing else on and I just needed something mindless to watch. Which would all be true but that is actually not my point. In this episode one of the roommates, Dan or Danny I think, finds out on Valentine’s Day that his mom died of a heart attack. Apparently, the story is that his parents aren’t together anymore and he did not have a really good relationship with her. Anyway…he was completely crushed. Of course they add to the drama by cutting to a phone conversation he had with her like four days earlier where she is saying just how much it means to her that he called her. She ends the conversation by saying I love you and he responds with an okay well talk to you soon. Being estranged (I guess that is the right word) from my birth father, by my choice, has gotten me thinking. Will I regret my decision to not speak to him when he dies? Will I look back and think if only I had given him another chance? Even as I write this there is a voice screaming inside of my head, “No! You may have made the decision but it was based on his actions over an incredibly long period of time and not some rash decision of the heart made in the heat of frustration. To continue to talk to him would have caused you to carry on a miserable existence where you would get your hopes up and then have him stomp on them. It would have caused you to spend your life in a sadistic holding pattern waiting for that one moment when he would give you what you needed, say what you were desperate to hear and it would never have come.” In letting my birth father go I let go of so much of the pain he had caused me (knowingly or not). Even now, I watch my brother and sister constantly get setup and let down by him. It is strange because in escaping the constant turmoil from him I have shackled myself to the role my mom used to play of defending him to my sister when he has hurt her. It sucks. What I really want to do is tell her what a dick he is and how much better her life would be if she just stopped talking to him and stopped letting him do the same thing to her over and over again. But instead I don’t say anything negative (or too negative) and I tell her that in continuing to talk to him she has to accept who he is which is a completely self-centered and self-serving shmuck. It doesn’t make much sense to tell her to accept him the way he is when I couldn’t but it is the best thing I can come up with when he crushes her with yet another disappointment. I also defend my decision by thinking about the fact that HE is the parent. Even though now I am an adult too he is still the parent. If fences were going to be mended shouldn’t that have happened when he realized that I was calling another man “dad,” or when I got engaged, or when he realized he wasn’t invited to my wedding, or the first time I was pregnant? Or even before that when I wrote him this heart pouring letter telling him exactly how I felt without accusing him of being an absentee father and telling him exactly what I needed from him to start making things better? I mean I was 19 for christ sake it is not like it was an “I am mad at you because you are mean” letter from a 10 year old. It truly is an outer body kind of experience to introduce your father to your husband and at the same time have it find out you are pregnant with your first child. Like something that should be happening on an after school special not in your life. Except in the after school special the father would have broken down in tears and repented for not being present in your life.
Yet despite all this knowledge that I did the right thing and that my life is so much better without him in it I still wonder if I will regret it one day. Will I regret Cecilia and Sophia not knowing him? Will they understand that my decision in not having him a part of their lives has everything to do with protecting them from the disappointments that map my childhood and not some bitterness because he is not married to my mother? Will they know just how lucky they are to have a “real grandfather” in my dad (my step-dad) even though they are not blood related? My heart truly answers no I won’t regret it and yes they will understand. But what if I am wrong? What if when he dies I spend the rest of my life wondering how things could have been if I had just accepted him for who he is?

Counting Down

2005-08-09T04:37:00.000-05:00

I am leaving to go to NY in four days. I have such mixed feelings about it that I feel I need to write a list.

Pros:

Getting out of Greensboro (always a good thing)
Long drive means lots of time to myself listening to loud music and singing (which I cannot do)
Seeing my friends who I have not seen in far too long
Seeing my one month old nephew for the first time and I guess my brother and sister in law
Seeing my sister
Getting to eat really good NY food
Bagels
Break from work

Cons:

Being so busy with work this week because my coworker is on vacation and not having a lot of time to rest and chill out before driving for nine hours
Keith not coming with me
Being away from Keith and the girls
Leaving the baby (it just seems too soon)
Having to leave at the butt-crack of dawn to come home on Sunday
Coming home to a total mess at work (maybe)

Okay...I guess I feel a little better. I am really looking forward to the alone time. I definitely need some space from everyone to clear my head a little. I still hate that Keith is not going to be there though.

Conflicted

2005-08-06T19:25:00.000-05:00

I am totally stressed right now and going about 90 miles a second so I have decided to vent about one of the many, many things on my mind. Going back to school. It looks so simple in words and it was so damn easy to write you would think there would be no problem. Except there are at least a thousand that come to mind when I think about going back to school. Money, time, my family, getting a job afterward, the school’s location - to name a few. Believe me I have been through all the arguments about all of them. Money…what does it matter to add more debt onto what we have. Time…I would have to stop working because there is no way I can be a full time student, work, raise two girls, and be a wife (notice I am leaving out having a clean house because that is so very low on my to-do list. So sad!). My family…how much will I neglect my family to be able to study and attend classes never mind the other requirements that I would need to meet for the degree I want. Getting a job afterward…I want to do something that I like but I also want to be able to get a job after I am done with school. I cannot justify not working and spending money we don’t have to learn something I can’t put into practice later. The school’s location…this is the most confusing and stress-inducing one for me so I have to share a little background. Since I was about 18ish I have wanted to become a deaf interpreter. I am fascinated by the deaf community and have a true love for the language. Besides, I am Italian so I already talk with my hands. There is a college here that has a four-year program but since I dropped out of college forever and ever ago whatever credits I may have are probably obsolete. And honestly I cannot justify “dropping out” of my family’s financial well being for four years to get my degree. So I figured I could find something else that I wanted to do and while researching a few things I came across a school that offers a fully accredited two-year program in deaf interpreting…in Charlotte. Of course, Keith, being as wonderful as usual, is all about it because he fully supports my going back to school and comes up with a plan to get us out of here and to Charlotte which cannot happen for a while. Just as an aside, Charlotte is about an hour and a half from where we are now give or take. This all seems pretty straight forward and not a big deal. The biggest things we should need to deal with are selling the house, Keith finding a job, and finding a place to live we can afford in a good school district. Simple. Not so much. Like in all good reality there is a twist. Since I have moved down here (eight years ago) my sister has moved down here with her husband (six years ago) and my parents moved down here (two years ago), and Keith’s parents already live here. A couple of weeks ago, I mentioned to my sister about the school and she reacted like she was a little mad and said “well how do you expect me to feel when I moved here for you and now you are planning on moving away.” Now of course I did not think she would do cartwheels over me moving but for her to not be even the tiniest bit supportive surprised me. And in my defense, she has lived here for six years so it is not like she moved here yesterday and today I am telling her I am leaving. But now this has made my decision all the more harder. I also don’t want to move the girls away from their grandparents and aunt and uncle either. I want to say that I can find something else that I want to do to be able to stay here but honestly I have wanted to move to Charlotte even before I found the school there. And I also believe that if my sister had an opportunity to move someplace else to benefit her and her family than I would support her and not let my feelings of missing her get in the way. And I will miss her and it is a huge factor. Part of me wants to say come with us but I know that is unfair and unrealistic. Selfishly I want her to come, she is my best friend. But I know I can’t (and I don’t) expect her to follow me wherever I go. Besides an hour and a half is not that far. I guess I did expect her to support me a little more. I am sure eventually she will. It just makes all these decisions harder. Never mind my thinking that I am not smart enough to go back to school and have been very lucky to get the job I have now and maybe I should just stick with that and not set myself up to fail and screw up the good thing I have going. I think I am more confused. I need to write a pros/cons list.

This is what happens when paranoid people became parents

2005-08-03T10:31:00.000-05:00

Sophia is three months old. For most parents, three months is like the magic number. It is when things start evening out. Babies sleep longer, they are more aware of what is going on around them when they are awake. They smile often and may even giggle. There is nothing better than your baby flashing a sweet smile in your direction when she hears your voice. For me, three months means anxiety, stress, dreaded anticipation that something is going to go wrong.
I read lots of parent magazines. I learn a lot from those magazines even though some of the articles and most of the reader write-ins make me mad. Keith says I should be given my own column just to respond to the ignorant parents who write in about past articles. I get about three magazines a month that I read (to some degree) cover to cover. In every issue of each magazine there is a least one true-life tragic story. These are the articles with titles like “Saving Baby…” or “Johnny Spends Three Months In The Hospital” and when I get to them I know I shouldn’t read them. They all have that car wreck can’t look away quality. And me being very sensitive read them with my heart racing and tears running down my face. So why should these articles give me a sense of terror and panic for my so far (knock wood) healthy three month old? Because the majority of these stories start with “everything was going just perfectly until Janie turned three months.” I actually hadn’t given her upcoming three-month birthday much thought because we have had so much going on and I lost all of yesterday to a migraine. But this morning, Sophia was a little flushed and seemed a little cranky. You are actually not supposed to determine if a baby is warm by the temperature of their face but anyway…face flushed and a little cranky. Do I subject the poor child to a temperature reading the old fashion way because of my paranoia? I contemplate it while I have her up on the changing table but decide not to as I watch her get all flirty and giggly with her own reflection. I silently berate myself for letting my anxiousness get the best of me and head out to the library. But through our library trip my flirty girl went back to starring at me with glassy eyes and being very cranky. So now I am back to jumping at every little sound she makes. Is this a telltale sign of some impending doom? I know I am driving myself crazy but I can't stop my mind racing to every story I read with the words "I just knew something wasn't right when..." AAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH! I will be much better once we reach the three and a half month mark. Or maybe four…

Quick pick me up

2005-07-28T16:23:00.000-05:00

This is why I love the internet!

http://www.ritilan.com/archives/2004/11/14/17.20.26/index.html

Raging Mad

2005-07-27T08:40:00.000-05:00

Yesterday I attempted to take an exercise class at the YMCA. We aren't members yet but I got some free passes so I could try out some of the classes and decide if we want to join. I rushed around like a lunatic to get there. My dad came to watch the girls and off I went. Of course, I was running a little late so I raced there and rushed in practically running only to be told that they don't accept guest passes after 4 pm. I was so pissed I could have killed someone. I was going to call this morning and rip someone a new one but I decided that would probably not help anything so I wrote a letter. Here it is:

My husband and I have been looking into starting a membership at the YMCA for all facilities in Greensboro and canceling the current membership we have with another family gym. I received some passes to try out a few aerobics classes before we committed. Yesterday, I arrived at the Bryan family location and was told turned away quite rudely with a smirk and explanation that passes were not accepted after 4 PM. I studied the pass in my hand to see where that information was provided (as I am sure you know the information is not there) and was directed with the point of a finger to a sign apparently with this information. I did not bother to read the sign as my outrage over the situation and the way I was being treated would not allow me to stand there a moment longer.

One of the main reasons we have decided to join the YMCA is due to the core principles you encourage of caring, honesty, respect and responsibility. Yesterday, I was not treated with respect nor did your employee uphold her responsibility of taking a moment to care about my situation. My question to you is how are my husband and I supposed to determine if we would like to join your facility without first assessing the programs you offer? This is the opportunity I thought I was being provided when the passes were given to me. The stipulation of not being allowed into a class that does not take place until after 4:00 is unreasonable and counterproductive to the purpose of the pass. I am unsure how I can allow my daughters to be part of a place where there is a possibility they will be disrespected as I was yesterday. My hope is that this is an isolated event and my husband and I can sign our family up to be part of a community where they will find “worthwhile programs and meaningful experiences that make a positive difference in their lives.”

I trust there is a way this situation can be rectified for myself and others visiting your location. Thank you in advance for taking the time to address my concerns.

We will see what happens!

Is it a male/female thing or just me?

2005-07-26T09:54:00.000-05:00

Here is a simple scenario…I get into an argument with my sister. Since we fight pretty much the same, we of course sling ugly insults at each other for a few minutes. Each of us says what we need to on the topic and then we are done. Doors slam, phones get hung up with purpose, and that’s that. After a little while (a few hours, a day or so) we briefly talk about what it is we argued about. Now we have resolved whatever it was at the end of the actual fight but we do the whole “you were right…I shouldn’t have said…next time I will…” thing when things are calm. After that we are truly done.
With Keith it is a completely different story. We get into an argument. Usually something I start because Keith doesn’t have a confrontational bone in his body. We do not fight the same at all so I have to be very careful not to get too nasty because he won’t get nasty back and then we both feel bad. Eventually, with a lot of prodding on my part, we say what has to be said. Again, resolution at the end of the fight. We walk away or separate for our little cooling off period but he never gives me that final closure. At least he never initiates it. If/when I bring it up later it, more times than not, results in another argument over the same subject and the fact that he doesn’t seem to care. Stupid, I know. I sometimes watch myself when that happens and think Oh God! Shut up, you dumb nag! But I keep going like a starter gun has gone off and I can’t stop until I reach the finish line. The thing is I feel like I need that second part of the argument. Not the resolution because we have already reached that but the chance to hear the solution at a neutral moment for better processing. Am I the only one who does this? I don’t have a lot of friends that I see on a regular basis, as most of them live in another state, so save for the snide remarks I make to the cashier/pharmacy tech at Eckerd’s I don’t really argue with anyone else that I care about.
Maybe it is a family thing because my mom is like this too.

Shopping Nightmare

2005-07-25T08:23:00.000-05:00

I am curious to know if I am the only young-ish, short, fat person who has a hard time shopping. By hard time I mean it is a complete and total horror show with me usually ending up in tears in the dressing room or in the car on the way home. I think it is a sick joke on the part of the clothes designers. There is no market for people who are not 18 but not 55 and not 5'5" and 110 lb. I don’t want to dress like my little sister who is 10 years younger than me and I don’t want to dress like my mom (no offense, mom!). And the sales people…
Okay here is some insight into my total hatred for shopping…I go to Old Navy to try to find a top. Is it just me or is everything pink or some kind of offensive pattern? I am more of a gray and black, maybe navy blue, kind of girl, of which I don't see anywhere. Not a good start. As I walk around the store I notice that everything is itty bitty or just not attractive. Finally I came across what looks to be the perfect top on a mannequin. Big enough to cover my post baby blubbery stomach but not so big that it looks like I bought it at the tent sale at Dick’s Sporting Goods. And just as a bonus it is not pink! Dare I get excited?? No, because I can’t find the display of shirts anywhere. Desperate, I seek out a sales person to help me. As I round a corner I am assaulted by first-day-on-the-job-so-I-am-not-yet-jaded Miss Young and Perky Salesperson. She is practically bouncing on the balls of her feet. I tell her that I need to find the shirt that is on the mannequin. She looks like she might break into a cheer and do some sort of tumbling sequence over to that part of the store. She doesn’t have a clue so as she guides me around the store she consults her little mind file of recent training tools and asks, “Who are you shopping for today?” So with a tooth-grinding smile I answer that the top is for me. Well this stops Miss Young and Perky in her tracks. She then changes direction and leads me to the plus size section of the store and tells me that I will probably have better luck finding something here. Before a snide comment can cross my lips she adds that the other store in Greensboro also has a maternity section. I stare stupidly into her smiling expectant face and stammer out a thank you. She skips off oblivious to the fact that she just annihilated what little self-esteem I strive to hold onto. So I leave Old Navy with no shirt and my pride limping behind me. I wonder if that tent sale is going on at Dick's?

Big Girl Decision

2005-07-22T09:22:00.000-05:00

Four days ago, Cecilia tells me that she needs a haircut and I need to call Mardi. She is mainly saying this because she has heard me say it about two dozen times since May. Then she throws me completely off guard by telling me she wants to really cut her hair. “Mommy, I would like to cut my hair like Dora the Explorer and Lucy from 64 Zoo Lane.” Of course, I turn around expecting to see that little devilish smile she gets when she teases me. But there she is looking at me intently. So I calmly say, “well if we cut your hair off then you won’t be able to touch it to your butt.” I am pretty proud of myself for coming up with such an easy deterrent since the child loves to lean back and sweep her hair back and forth across her butt (and I wanted to grab her and scream NO! Please don’t cut your hair! Not yet!). Cecilia walks up to me and hugs my leg and says, “Don’t worry mommy it will grow back. Hair always grows back.” She is four! And here she is being mature and logical totally sensing that on the inside I am freaking out. Now the issue here is not the actual hair cutting. I have had my hair every length and color over the years. In fact, I rarely got upset over a haircut (except the one time when I was 14 and the girl cut my hair in a Dorothy Hamil on crack style with bangs that were so short they actually stuck straight out from head instead of laying down on my forehead) and have been known to say “it is just hair, it will grow back.” Yes, my butt is still sore from those words coming back to bite me. The thing I am struggling with is that my baby is making a permanent decision all by herself. I have not suggested that she cut her hair. She hasn’t been around anyone recently who has gone from long hair to short. So I tell her okay that I will call. Then I wait a couple of days thinking if I ignore it, it will go away. Then she asks me again if it is time to go see Mardi and get her hair cut. I break down and call hoping that there will be no available appointments until next week so I can wait that much longer. “How is tomorrow at 9:30?” I want to hang up but instead I hear myself say we will be there and rattle off my phone number. 9:30 comes blink of the eye quick. Mardi, being a mother herself, knows that this is traumatic for me. I stand next to Cecilia as she kicks excitedly in the chair with a huge cape around her, her blonde hair reaching past the top of the chair. I can’t help but smile. Back goes the hair in a ponytail and out come the scissors. I wonder if it will scar Cecilia to see me cry over her first real haircut. With every snip of the scissors I see my baby turning into a little girl. Proudly, I did not cry. Despite Cecilia’s usual favorite pastime of looking in the mirror, she could not take her eyes off herself. Mardi takes the cape off and Cecilia launches herself into my arms for a quick snuggle. “I love you mommy.” Okay…so maybe she still is my baby.