29 November 2006

Fun times

Turns out I have a "mass" in my uterus. Nice, eh? The doctor thinks it's just a giant clump of clotted blood, which would explain the fact that I'm on the 19th day of my period (if this is TMI, stop reading now) and I'm passing clumps of bright red bloody tissue. Nothing like being poked and prodded on a Wednesday afternoon to find this all out. So back on birth control I go, to (a) stop the bleeding, (b) regulate my period, and (c) make sure Natalie doesn't get a sibling any time soon. In a month, I'm back at the doctors for another sonogram to make sure that the mass has gone away, and if it hasn't, it's off for a D&C. Always an adventure down there in my plumbing. I had secretly hoped the drama would end magically after giving birth, but I guess not.

27 November 2006

Beginner's luck

I had never cooked a turkey before. That is, until yesterday. Jim's office is still stuck in the 1950s sometimes, and every employee gets a turkey for Thanksgiving. Since we were going to be out of town and didn't need a turkey for Thanksgiving, and given that we don't have a chest freezer or anything yet, we decided to invite whoever was around for a bit of a potluck and cook it up so at least we would only have a reasonable amount to freeze and wouldn't have to eat turkey sandwiches all week to boot. It was an 18lb bird, so there was a LOT of turkey. And it turned out perfect. Honestly, it was better than my mom's, and that's saying something.

Before:
After:

22 November 2006

Another place

Music has the ability to transport the listener to another world, another time, another frame of mind, right? I know I get this sweet, nostalgic feeling everytime Pearl Jam or Nirvana comes on the radio, as both bands were in their hights when I was in high school. Just something about hearing them brings me back to my flannel wearing grunge days of yore. I can also tell you what song was playing when we went into the big new year's eve bash my senior year of high school ("Red Red Wine" by UB40), although I can't tell you the slow song Bill and I danced to that night, even though it was the first time I was ever close enough to a guy with a boner to feel it against my thigh in the middle of a dance floor croweded with hormonal teenagers. I think about the future when Natalie will roll her eyes when I go to put on some Coldplay or the Shins or some other "turn of the century" band. Music just has a way of getting into your brain like that.

What has struck me recently is the song "Chasing Cars" by Snow Patrol. If they were making a movie about my life, this song would be in it, and it would pretty much sum up my life for the second half of 11th grade. I was dating this guy, John. He's so much more to me than just a guy, though. He was my first love, the closest thing I think I've had to a true soul mate (yes, that's including my husband). We only dated for 3 months, and broke up to save our friendship. Long story short, his parents were immigrants and didn't like their son dating me, as I was not one of them. His mom eventually came around, but his dad didn't (at least not till sometime when we were in college and now he loves me. Ironic, eh?). So his dad gave John a hard time - needing the phone if John was on with me, not letting him have a car to go out with me, etc. It was tough, it was getting frustrating. But the friendship we had for years afterwards was amazing. There were occasional benefits (he was such a good kisser...), but mostly just lots of late nights at the diner talking about anything and everything. John was very introspective and wise beyond his years. Some of our best times together were when we'd just "be." That's where "Chasing Cars" comes in. Everytime I hear it on the radio, I get those tingles inside, that welling up of emotion that is so hard to describe. It's a little bit sad, as that's a part of my life that will never exist again, and John is no longer in my life, having gotten married our senior year of college and we haven't talked since. Maybe word got out that I was That Girl in the bathroom after the ceremony bawling my eyes out and his bride decided maybe we shouldn't keep in touch. I hope not. But he's still important to me, he's still the person I call "my best friend from high school." I pray he is doing well, that his marriage is blessed, and that maybe, just maybe, when he hears this song a little part of him thinks of me, too.

If I lay here/If I just lay here/Would you lie with me and just forget the world?
I don't quite know/How to say How I feel/Those three words/Are said too much/They're not enough
If I lay here/If I just lay here/Would you lie with me and just forget the world?
Forget what we're told/Before we get too old/Show me a garden that's bursting into life
Let's waste time/Chasing cars/Around our heads
I need your grace/To remind me/To find my own
If I lay here/If I just lay here/Would you lie with me and just forget the world?
Forget what we're told/Before we get too old/Show me a garden that's bursting into life
All that I am/All that I ever was/Is here in your perfect eyes, they're all I can see
I don't know where/Confused about how as well/Just know that these things will never change for us at all
If I lay here/If I just lay here/Would you lie with me and just forget the world?

21 November 2006

Thankful

My brother, the prodigal son, has come back to roost. Well, not really, but he at least acted like a man and called my parents to apologize for being a jerk. This is huge, and an answer to prayer, and will make the holidays so much better for our parents. I hope he can be more of a man and earn back our trust. The Air Force trusts him to be a test flight engineer, but I don't know that I'd trust him babysit. Then again, billion dollar jets don't need to have their diapers changed.

Tim, here's to hoping you fly east for Christmas.

15 November 2006

Crazy

What the fuck am I thinking?? Three days ago I was plugging along, same old same old. Suddenly, I'm contemplating purchasing $876 worth of software and starting my own graphic design business. Insane? I'm starting to think so. Or else my fragile self confidence is eroding as time goes on.

My old boss came to me with a proposition, to do some brochure creation, writing, and editing for his new company. This would probably also include doing their annual report which is due in January. I've done this type of work before, but I've never had to make things print ready, and any idiot with a smidge of grey matter between their ears can figure out microsoft publisher. Now I'm waiting for some sort of written agreement and then I'm off to purchase Adobe Creative Suite and a big fat Adobe for Dummies book if I can find one. It's an amazing opportunity, one that I'd love to persue idealistically, and if it allows me to someday dump my current job all together, well that's even better. Realisticly? I'm starting to wonder if I'm not a little out of my mind.

The fact that a certain little beastie who shall remain nameless hasn't taken a nap AT ALL today isn't factoring into my current frame of mind. Nope. Not at all. Thank goodness cheerios and the exersaucer still hold here attention or I wouldn't have gotten a stich done today.

This is news?

TOKYO -- A small tsunami hit northern Japan, estimated at 16 inches tall, Japan's Meteorological Agency said. A second tsunami, estimated at 8 inches, followed.

Um, seriously? 16 inches can still be considered a tsunami? That's like saying...I don't know. Something so rediculous that I can't think of anything as silly as calling a 16 inch wave a tsunami. Wondering how many oceanography students were sniggering in the back of the classroom the day they learned about this meteorlogical possibility.

12 November 2006

Jealous

We went to a friend's house for dinner Saturday night. A real, grown-up dinner party with china and stemware and cloth napkins. Not to mention our friends don't have kids (yet...), so their apartment was spotless and clean and free of brightly colored plastic. On top of it, despite being in an APARTMENT, they have more square footage than we do. Their kitchen had twice the counter and cabinet space, their "small" bedroom was bigger than our "master" bedroom. And they have about three times the closet space. Ok, so they don't have a patio or anything to BBQ on in the summer, but they also don't have they metric ton of leaves to rake either. It was so frustrating. We essentially live in a three bedroom* apartment with a yard.

*The 3rd bedroom is where I'm typing from, and it's so small, I don't even think you could fit a twin bed in here. Well, maybe you could, but you wouldn't be able to open the door all the way and you certainly wouldn't have room for any other furniture. I think my cubicle is bigger.

09 November 2006

Nine months old

It's official: You've now been on the outside as long as you were on the inside. Kind of crazy when you think about it. Nine months ago you were this wee little peanut and we were in the hospital, in awe of this tiny creature that they pulled from my womb. I was also still under the lovely effects of the spinal, which made things kind of hazy and pleasant. Before the pain that was where they cut my abdomin open in order to get you out, you stubborn little thing who wouldn't move as you were so jammed into my pelvis. Lovely, eh? Deal, little Natalie, as you're just going to have to put up with hearing this story every single frickin year on your birthday. I now understand why my mom was so psychotic about calling me in college every year at 8:02am the morning of my birthday. It was really annoying at the time, as I frequently didn't have class till 9 or 10am, and had most likely been out celebrating the night before with friends and really didn't appreciate the early wake up call. But at least now I understand, and as cliche as it sounds, someday when you're a mother you'll understand too. Now smack me for sounding just like my own mom, and I promise not to do it again.

You've grown in leaps and bounds lately. You know the word for wave, and will do so on command. We're working on clapping. We also think you know that dadadadada is that guy who gets you in the morning and brings your cranky self to mommy for nursing, and who then comes home in the evenings, where you turn yourself inside out in excitement at seeing him. Only he can get the true belly laughs out of you by simply making a goofy noise or just looking at you in the right way. We haven't seen you crawl on hands and knees yet, but you are never in the same place for more than a second and you always surprise us at the speed you are able to lung, roll, and twist your way across the room, inveriably to the one unsturdy piece of furniture (laundry baskets, rocking chairs) on which you pull yourself up on. So much pride in your little face as you smile at us. You certainly think you're hot stuff when you pull yourself up in your crib and then hollar at 3am because you haven't figured out yet how to get down. We set up obstacle courses in the living room for you to cruise around, which amuses you for ages. You seem like you recognize the other babies in your playgroup, which is tons of fun. It's like baby smackdown when the five of you get together and climb all over each other. Pure entertainment.

I'm still dealing with my depression, but I think it's getting better. At least I hope it is, and that I can be more of the mom I want to be and not feel so overwhelmed and unfocused all the time. Doesn't help that I've probably got too much on my plate right now, but I've got to get better at getting time for myself, as those quiet moments are what recharge me to take on one more day. But nine months. Already. I'm just shocked as usual at how fast it's gone.

02 November 2006

Carrie Bradshaw for Nerds

I was having one of those "maybe I should renew my passport just in case, even though I have a baby and hate to fly, I still like the thought of knowing that *if* I wanted to pick up and go to Europe on a whim I could" moments and was thinking about the line for "profession." What do I put? "Analyst" is technically my title that I've had for the past 5 years as a government contractor. "Project Coordinator" is more accurate, but the government doesn't get that creative with titles for us peons. Not to mention I loathe that job (although making business calls while outside raking leaves yesterday gave me quite a thrill, stick it to the man and all, talking to colleagues who were stuck in cubicles while I enjoyed one of the last nice days till spring). Do I put down "homemaker" or "stay at home mom" or just "mother"? A little too June Cleaver for me. Besides, I'm not some militant at home mom who is out to prove to the world that this is a full time job too.

My other paying job is a writer. "Huh," I thought, "That's kinda cool to have on one's passport." Then I realized it gets better. I'm not just a writer, I'm a columnist. It's true!! I write 1200 words every month that are published. It's just that instead of writing a sex column for a New York newspaper, I write a business column for a professional publication, one that caters to a subset of white collar workers that reeks of geekdom. I know this because my dad is one of them. It's actually his column, he just doesn't have time to do it, so he feeds me resources and I do the grunt work and spit out 1200 words on such choice topics like ethics or certification, or this month's winner: Change tactics. So really, I'm a "ghost writer." But I'm totally putting "columnist" on that passport application.

01 November 2006

Better?

It's been 11 days since I started my happy pills, and 32 days since my last period (which was also my first post-baby), I just ate lunch (home made chicken and vegetable enchilada on a multigrain tortilla with 1/4 cup spanish rice, a splash of fat free sour cream, and 16oz of water to wash it down), and all in all, I'm feeling pretty crappy. Haven't made it to the gym yet, but probably won't as the hour I spent raking leaves left me drenched in sweat and with aching upper arms. I think that counts as my work out for the day.

I can't focus, I can't sit still, I can't figure out what to do. I'm as stuffed as if I just ate Thanksgiving dinner, and my fingers are crossed that Natalie stays asleep for a while, since she is not quite 9 months old and I don't think praying for a 2 hour nap is asking too much. She's exhausted from all the activity last night; Halloween and all, sitting around the porch in her lobster costume while we handed out play-doh. Yup, we were that house that didn't have candy. Neighbors probably think we're dentists now, but only one 5 year old cowboy complained that he was supposed to get CANDY. If she gets up soon, I don't know what I'll do. Leaving the house means I might have to talk to people at the park or library or coffee shop. I just don't feel like being friendly.

So, raging PMS or is the Zoloft not quite up to speed yet? I can't decide.