So my plan of writing 2 - 3 times per week fell to the wayside as I embraced a battle with city hall. More on that another time.
Now on to what got me riled up today.
I am a stay at home mom. Please stop making assumptions about me.
First of all, for once and for all. I DO NOT BAKE. I have no desire to learn to bake. I do not feel guilty about not baking. If an occasion calls for baked goods I am more than happy to support local small businesses. They do it for a living for a reason. They're good at it. You're having a bake sale? good for you. I'm more than happy to purchase your wares, or help you sell them but stop assuming I will contribute.
Second, yes I have a lot of time. But I have filled that time with things that are important to me. If I don't volunteer for something I probably have another commitment. Or maybe I did a lot of work at a previous event and am of the opinion that it is someone else's turn.
Third, it is ok to say no sometimes. Saying no does not make a bad person or a bitch. Why don't you ask me why I said no, perhaps it's the same reason I didn't volunteer in the first place. I'm happy to explain and won't be insulted and it's nicer than talking behind my back.
Third, part 2, do not assume I am going to do something. Or just start including me on email strings and assigning me jobs. Especially jobs I am NOT qualified to do. This is not cool.
Forth, I do not spend my day doing any of the following:
- watching TV
- playing Farmville
- obsessively cleaning
- getting manicures / pedicures / spa treatments
- shoe shopping (ok fine, occasionally I shop for shoes, but only when I need some happy)
Fifth, yes, I spend too much time on Facebook and Perez Hilton. I'm fine with that. I also read the newspaper everyday. Find happiness where you can people.
Sixth, I do get lonely for grown-up conversation but no, I haven't decided when I'm going back to work. Mostly because I'm still not sure what I want to be when I grow up. Besides, I'm mom and I'm good at it.
Even if I don't bake.
Wednesday, May 08, 2013
Friday, April 05, 2013
Grumpy with a chance of snarl
Last night was destined to be a perfect sleep.
I magically caught my sleep window, the temperature in the room was exactly right, my sheets were clean and my jammies were cosy. I even had the perfect book - she's like an old acquaintance; you remember enough to know that it all works out happily ever after but don't remember everything so you're still pleased by the details. It was delicious. I started to drift off at the end of a chapter, so I closed my book and turned off the light. I was 3 breaths away from perfect REM when ...
ZZZZzzz-GGGhhhaaAAA-ZZZZGGAAHHzzzzz
repeat.
I gently shook his shoulder, he rolled over, there was blissful peace for 2 minutes
ZZZZzzz-GGGhhhaaAAA-ZZZZGGAAHHzzzzz
repeat.
I rubbed his back, ahhh, quiet ...
ZZZZzzz-GGGhhhaaAAA-ZZZZGGAAHHzzzzz
repeat.
I "allegedly" nudged ("hit") him with my elbow really hard between the shoulder blades.
"Was I snoring?"
"Yes."
"Sorry"
ZZZZzzz-GGGhhhaaAAA-ZZZZGGAAHHzzzzz
repeat.
So I slept on the couch. And when I say slept, I mean "lay in the dark with my eyes open not sleeping."
Alternate titles for this post:
"I don't know why you're on the floor ... maybe there was an earthquake?"
"I'm really sorry he's dead officer, but the snoring never stopped ... "
I magically caught my sleep window, the temperature in the room was exactly right, my sheets were clean and my jammies were cosy. I even had the perfect book - she's like an old acquaintance; you remember enough to know that it all works out happily ever after but don't remember everything so you're still pleased by the details. It was delicious. I started to drift off at the end of a chapter, so I closed my book and turned off the light. I was 3 breaths away from perfect REM when ...
ZZZZzzz-GGGhhhaaAAA-ZZZZGGAAHHzzzzz
repeat.
I gently shook his shoulder, he rolled over, there was blissful peace for 2 minutes
ZZZZzzz-GGGhhhaaAAA-ZZZZGGAAHHzzzzz
repeat.
I rubbed his back, ahhh, quiet ...
ZZZZzzz-GGGhhhaaAAA-ZZZZGGAAHHzzzzz
repeat.
I "allegedly" nudged ("hit") him with my elbow really hard between the shoulder blades.
"Was I snoring?"
"Yes."
"Sorry"
ZZZZzzz-GGGhhhaaAAA-ZZZZGGAAHHzzzzz
repeat.
So I slept on the couch. And when I say slept, I mean "lay in the dark with my eyes open not sleeping."
Alternate titles for this post:
"I don't know why you're on the floor ... maybe there was an earthquake?"
"I'm really sorry he's dead officer, but the snoring never stopped ... "
Sunday, March 31, 2013
bring on the new
So it's Easter Sunday and we're off to church. I don't mind too much. I was up anyway.
I'm anxious, since we started going to the country on weekends we have a new church. I'm comfortable at our old "city" church. They know me. No one looks at me askance anymore when I wear jeans, drink coffee in my pew, and don't sing, pray or take communion. It's actually kind of handy being the atheist, ex-Sunday School teacher.
As the lone honest atheist at the church, it was very liberating. I never pretended and once had a very frank and stimulating discussion with the head minister about my non-belief. We agreed to disagree. No harm, no foul. I respect anyone's right to believe as I would hope they would respect my right not to believe.
I am often asked why I bother going and my answers have seemed baffling to some. "It is important to my husband and I love him. My daughter needs to be exposed so that she will get all the information she needs in order to make her own decisions about faith."
As for the whole Sunday School thing, there was a need and I pitched in when no-one else would. One might say it was very "Christian" of me.
Now I have a whole new bunch of people to break in, pray for me. ;-0
I'm anxious, since we started going to the country on weekends we have a new church. I'm comfortable at our old "city" church. They know me. No one looks at me askance anymore when I wear jeans, drink coffee in my pew, and don't sing, pray or take communion. It's actually kind of handy being the atheist, ex-Sunday School teacher.
As the lone honest atheist at the church, it was very liberating. I never pretended and once had a very frank and stimulating discussion with the head minister about my non-belief. We agreed to disagree. No harm, no foul. I respect anyone's right to believe as I would hope they would respect my right not to believe.
I am often asked why I bother going and my answers have seemed baffling to some. "It is important to my husband and I love him. My daughter needs to be exposed so that she will get all the information she needs in order to make her own decisions about faith."
As for the whole Sunday School thing, there was a need and I pitched in when no-one else would. One might say it was very "Christian" of me.
Now I have a whole new bunch of people to break in, pray for me. ;-0
Wednesday, March 27, 2013
I'm going to start keeping a notebook
so I can write down all the great ideas I get for blog posts and then promptly forget. Which, in turn, forces me to write about forgetting all the brilliant things I want to write about.
Super interesting I'm sure. Way to get readers indamanda! go you!
And in order to help myself fulfil my goal of actually blogging more than twice every two years here's a random list of stuff:
1. If I get up in the middle of the night I can't go back to sleep on the same side I woke up on.
2. I don't trust people that claim to be unable to walk in high heels (barring actual physical impairment, obviously).
3. The "stench" of my nighttime moisturizer actually forced BC to sleep on the couch the other night. It was expensive, I'm not not using it.
4. Sometimes I like to browse "everything" on Pinterest and laugh at how crazy people are. Then I look at my own boards and realize I was kind of laughing at myself.
5. My favourite number is 37. I blame Sweet Valley High.
6. I don't understand twitter. I have a twitter but don't think I use it correctly. (@indamandajones)
7. I think I want to start watching Dr. Who but don't know where to start.
8. I have to do a crossword puzzle before I can go to sleep. Always in ink.
9. I am pretty sure that I'm a better mom on the days I pretend I'm the nanny.
10. I never did a 40 before 40 list. I don't really mind.
11. I also don't trust people who don't drink caffeinated beverages, smile too much or claim to be happy all the time.
12. Sometimes I feel guilty about abandoning proper books for my Kobo, but then I realized it's 1 am and I'm 2/3 of the way through a trilogy that must be finished that night.
13. I have been watching "The IT Crowd" which is fun but mostly it makes me miss JPod.
14. I may have double spaced this list to make it look like a longer post. ;)
Super interesting I'm sure. Way to get readers indamanda! go you!
And in order to help myself fulfil my goal of actually blogging more than twice every two years here's a random list of stuff:
1. If I get up in the middle of the night I can't go back to sleep on the same side I woke up on.
2. I don't trust people that claim to be unable to walk in high heels (barring actual physical impairment, obviously).
3. The "stench" of my nighttime moisturizer actually forced BC to sleep on the couch the other night. It was expensive, I'm not not using it.
4. Sometimes I like to browse "everything" on Pinterest and laugh at how crazy people are. Then I look at my own boards and realize I was kind of laughing at myself.
5. My favourite number is 37. I blame Sweet Valley High.
6. I don't understand twitter. I have a twitter but don't think I use it correctly. (@indamandajones)
7. I think I want to start watching Dr. Who but don't know where to start.
8. I have to do a crossword puzzle before I can go to sleep. Always in ink.
9. I am pretty sure that I'm a better mom on the days I pretend I'm the nanny.
10. I never did a 40 before 40 list. I don't really mind.
11. I also don't trust people who don't drink caffeinated beverages, smile too much or claim to be happy all the time.
12. Sometimes I feel guilty about abandoning proper books for my Kobo, but then I realized it's 1 am and I'm 2/3 of the way through a trilogy that must be finished that night.
13. I have been watching "The IT Crowd" which is fun but mostly it makes me miss JPod.
14. I may have double spaced this list to make it look like a longer post. ;)
Wednesday, March 20, 2013
3 am inventions
So I am making a wish for a computer that could transcribe my thoughts because I write brilliant, witty, profound blog posts at 3 am when I can't sleep.
I could get up out of my warm and cosy bed and actually commit these brilliant, witty, profound thoughts to "paper" but then I would have to leave my warm and cosy bed. Nope, instead I am requesting that someone invent a computer that can transcribe my thoughts. NOT all my thoughts, that would be terrifying, but the ones earmarked for literary brilliance.
I have a vague recollection of reading a teen romance novel about two teenagers in Silicon Valley in the 80s and the girl had a computer she could "think" to. Anybody remember this book? I am hoping to find it so I can re-read it and steal its ideas. For some reason the image in my head of the hero is kind of a cross between teenage Patrick Dempsey and Charles Shaughnessy. The heroine looked like me, obviously.
So, if anyone has a computer like this can they lend it to me tonight, around 3 am? Thanks in advance.
I could get up out of my warm and cosy bed and actually commit these brilliant, witty, profound thoughts to "paper" but then I would have to leave my warm and cosy bed. Nope, instead I am requesting that someone invent a computer that can transcribe my thoughts. NOT all my thoughts, that would be terrifying, but the ones earmarked for literary brilliance.
I have a vague recollection of reading a teen romance novel about two teenagers in Silicon Valley in the 80s and the girl had a computer she could "think" to. Anybody remember this book? I am hoping to find it so I can re-read it and steal its ideas. For some reason the image in my head of the hero is kind of a cross between teenage Patrick Dempsey and Charles Shaughnessy. The heroine looked like me, obviously.
So, if anyone has a computer like this can they lend it to me tonight, around 3 am? Thanks in advance.
Tuesday, January 22, 2013
I hate January 22nd
To be more specific I hate the night of January 22. Tonight is the 6th anniversary of the night before my daughter was born.
I was in the hospital with a pregnancy that statistically should already have failed. I had been given a tour of the Neonatal Intensive Care Unit (NICU), met with the head neonatologist and been given the kind of statistics that are so bad you can't even process them 6 years later. My amniotic fluid was dropping, my blood pressure was starting to spike, I had absent end flow in my left uterine artery and given the room for error in the ultrasounds we didn't even know if she was big enough for the resuscitation threshold.
That's a thing. The Resuscitation Threshold. Who knew? It's 500 grams, if your RT has a tube small enough on hand.
If she was big enough, they could resuscitate and then feed her intravenously and hope that she continued to grow. Not too fast and not too slow. Too fast and bad things happen; too slow and bad things happen: brain haemorrhages, necrotizing enterocolitis, heart murmurs, retinopathy of prematurity (which can lead to blindness), not to mention cerebral palsy and hosts other things I have blocked from my memory.
Back to tonight. I was lying in a hospital bed, hooked up to a fetal monitor, my husband asleep on the very uncomfortable cot beside me snoring. All I could do was watch the monitor. Every blip meant that she was still alive.
I was awash in guilt and despair. I couldn't even manage to be pregnant, how could I be a mom? How could I be a mom to a sick baby? a special needs baby? any baby?
Nurses kept coming in and telling me to go to sleep and finally got an order for Ativan. That did not work. Despair wins every time.
By the time morning rolled around I was so tired and scared I was a zombie. When she was delivered - 4:42 pm, January 23, 2007, 1 lb 8 oz - I am not sure I even knew my own name. Then Debbie the scrub nurse showed me the top of a teeny tiny head the same size as my fist. She asked me what the baby's name was. I said Charlotte Evelyn.
I held her for the first time when she was 5 days old for about 15 minutes. I held her again 7 days later. February 18th she joined "The Kilo Club" and February 19th we had a meeting with the Dr. who told me that I would probably take a baby home. It took 98 days but we did, on April 30th.
We are so lucky and so fortunate that, knock wood, we have not had any serious on-going side-effects from the prematurity and lots of therapy has almost convinced me it's not my fault. But that does not mean the despair doesn't come to visit every now and then. Especially tonight.
If you'll excuse me I need to go and do my nightly check to make sure everyone's still breathing.
Because I'm a mom. A good one.
I was in the hospital with a pregnancy that statistically should already have failed. I had been given a tour of the Neonatal Intensive Care Unit (NICU), met with the head neonatologist and been given the kind of statistics that are so bad you can't even process them 6 years later. My amniotic fluid was dropping, my blood pressure was starting to spike, I had absent end flow in my left uterine artery and given the room for error in the ultrasounds we didn't even know if she was big enough for the resuscitation threshold.
That's a thing. The Resuscitation Threshold. Who knew? It's 500 grams, if your RT has a tube small enough on hand.
If she was big enough, they could resuscitate and then feed her intravenously and hope that she continued to grow. Not too fast and not too slow. Too fast and bad things happen; too slow and bad things happen: brain haemorrhages, necrotizing enterocolitis, heart murmurs, retinopathy of prematurity (which can lead to blindness), not to mention cerebral palsy and hosts other things I have blocked from my memory.
Back to tonight. I was lying in a hospital bed, hooked up to a fetal monitor, my husband asleep on the very uncomfortable cot beside me snoring. All I could do was watch the monitor. Every blip meant that she was still alive.
I was awash in guilt and despair. I couldn't even manage to be pregnant, how could I be a mom? How could I be a mom to a sick baby? a special needs baby? any baby?
Nurses kept coming in and telling me to go to sleep and finally got an order for Ativan. That did not work. Despair wins every time.
By the time morning rolled around I was so tired and scared I was a zombie. When she was delivered - 4:42 pm, January 23, 2007, 1 lb 8 oz - I am not sure I even knew my own name. Then Debbie the scrub nurse showed me the top of a teeny tiny head the same size as my fist. She asked me what the baby's name was. I said Charlotte Evelyn.
I held her for the first time when she was 5 days old for about 15 minutes. I held her again 7 days later. February 18th she joined "The Kilo Club" and February 19th we had a meeting with the Dr. who told me that I would probably take a baby home. It took 98 days but we did, on April 30th.
We are so lucky and so fortunate that, knock wood, we have not had any serious on-going side-effects from the prematurity and lots of therapy has almost convinced me it's not my fault. But that does not mean the despair doesn't come to visit every now and then. Especially tonight.
If you'll excuse me I need to go and do my nightly check to make sure everyone's still breathing.
Because I'm a mom. A good one.
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