Time on my hands

I have a doc's appt this morning, so B took Ryan to daycare and I've had over one uninterrupted hour to get ready. I've seriously taken as much time as humanly possible to do everything and I've still got 15 minutes to kill before I leave.

It's been way too long for a really thorough update, but I'm pregnant again. We bought a new house - a different one than the one we were planning to buy and B's parents aren't speaking to us. Well, I guess that one goes both ways. B's not planning on calling them first either.

I always knew that something would come up between B and his folks that would cause them to stop speaking to one another, but I thought it would be about money. Instead, B got pissed off in defense of me. It's pretty sweet, but I feel guilty.

The short version is that, when we were planning on buying the other, super-huge house, we invited his whole fam to come out for Christmas. When that fell through and we were living in a teeny tiny apartment, we rescinded the invitation because we didn't know if we'd even have a place. Then we bought this place and, oh, probably a few weeks before Christmas B invited his bro and sis-in-law again. I didn't know the details of who he'd spoken to, but he told me it was a possibility that they would come out.

The next thing I hear is that my father- and mother-in-law are coming out (didn't know that) and that the bro & sis-in-law probably aren't coming. Oh well, no skin off my nose other than the fact that the twin nieces are a nice buffer with the in-laws.

So, I'm at home one evening and B's due home any minute. I'm in the middle of changing a poopy diaper which, I can say from experience, is a delicate task if you want to avoid getting poo on you. But the phone rang and I thought it might be B so I went to grab it. It was FIL.

Since I only have six more minutes to write about the convo, I'll just say it went downhill fast. I told FIL that B would be home soon, but he launched into me telling B that he HAD to call his brother to invite him out for Christmas. I told him that B had already invited them, but I didn't know who he talked to. FIL got very agitated with me and I said I didn't understand why he was so upset, that it seemed to me like this was between B and his bro. Well, that started some yelling about how FIL wants his family to communicate with one another and that he and MIL does too and OBVIOUSLY I don't care if his family communicates (Do you like the use of the expression "his family"? Why did I bother changing my last name again?) and, furthermore, it doesn't sound like I even communicate with my own husband.

Well, being pregnant and completely hormonal, I sarcastically responded -of course - and the conversation just went down from there. So I told him I would ask B to call his brother and ended the call. By the time B got home, though, I was crying and very upset and B didn't want to call his bro because he'd already talked to the sis in law. So I told him he had to call his father back to explain that because I wasn't going to be blamed for him not doing it. The next thing I know, he's yelling at his father and everyone uninvited from Christmas.

OK, I gotta go.

My trip to the bookstore

Ryan sat in crap today. Some other kid's crap. And I didn't realize it until I was driving home and couldn't figure out what the hell that smell was. It was pretty gross. It stank up the whole room and I hope Ryan doesn't get whatever that other kid had, but I suppose it's inevitable.

His poop still hasn't returned to the virtual adult poop it used to be before the stomach flu, but it is getting better. Except for this morning when, inexplicably, some managed to squeeze out of his diaper onto the sidewalk. Two whole, untouched blueberries were sitting soundly in the middle of an inhuman green liquid. Yuck.

He's also doing a lot of neat things and association stuff lately. He takes our keys and tries to stick them into the door handle. He holds the phone up to his ear. He opens and closes doors, climbs onto furniture and blows on warm food, exactly the way he's seen mommy do it. I'm consistently amazed by him.

Anyway, to the point of my blog entry today. Berin and I have news, but we're officially not telling people yet. Although, he told a friend of his here the very next day so for whatever that's worth... but I figured I could blog about my trip to the bookstore and what I bought without "officially" sharing the news. So, in the order I'm pulling them out of the bag:

• Find It! (a catalogue/source book for parents - verry cool and full of fun stuff like floating targets for your little boy to aim at when peeing in the toilet).
• Harvest for Hope, a book by Jane Goodall (a guide for mindful eating)
• The Mom Inventors Handbook (How to turn your great idea into the next big thing)
• Fit Pregancy presents Mom & Baby (caring for you both), a magazine
• Fit Pregnancy, the original version, another magazine
• Pregnancy (the magazine) - apparently for the mom's who could care less whether they're fit.
• and, I'm Pregnant (the magazine... yes, there is such a thing) This one's actually a British rag and my favorite part was learning that the brits get 26 weeks off under their version of the FMLA and return to the same job. I think the Canadians get a full year. We are so being cheated here in the U.S.

So, if you haven't guessed our news, you're a little thick headed. I'll give more details when we've decided to officially tell people.

Demotion

Probably not a lot of people write about getting demoted. It's probably a shameful embarrassing thing that people only acknowledge when someone notices the change of their letterhead. But I guess I'm just different.

I pretty much avoid sharing details about what I do or where I work (to protect the less-than-innocent, I suppose), so I'm going to create what might be a confusing analogy to explain what happened. There's one guy who basically is in charge of the entire department I work in. We'll call him The Grand Poobah. He's basically the guy that is in charge of everyone and everything. Now all of the other people in the department (aside from support staff) do a variety of related things and they all work, directly or indirectly for The Grand Poobah. All of these people are titled Jr. Poobah. In my line of work, being a Jr. Poobah is considered a relatively good position to be in. When I was hired, I became a Jr. Poobah. My boss is actually a Jr. Poobah too. So, essentially we were on the same level, but he was my boss if that makes any sense. Now, at some point in the last month, my job title changed. I went from being a Jr. Poobah to being Entry Level Poobah.

But what's really strange is how I found out about it and why they did it. I found out about it by logging onto the Human Resources website, which is the only way to access your paystubs. And I was a little surprised, so I decided to do a little passive aggressive maneuver to find out what was going on. I emailed the woman who orders business cards (who apparently ordered some for me weeks ago) and I said I might have to change my job title on the card because apparently now I'm an Entry Level Poobah. Oh no, she replies, I ordered them with the right job title. You and K (another new attorney, the new other female attorney incidentally - there's a new male attorney that I don't think ended up with the Entry Level Poobah title) are both Entry Level Poobahs. (Huh?)

Now, for random strangers reading this post, I kind of like to stir up trouble at work. I can't help myself. I see injustices and I get pissed off. And I have a nasty habit of walking out on jobs when I get pissed off.

So, stirring up trouble as I am wont to do, I forwarded the email to K who did not know that she was no longer a Jr. Poobah. K has some other intricacies to her position and it's a position that another attorney in the office used to have, but moved to a different one. The other gal was a Jr. Poobah when she held the position and she reported directly to the Grand Poobah. K has now been demoted with me and she's not really sure who her boss is.

K confronted my boss, who may or may not be her boss too. And he told her that he and the Grand Poobah had decided that K and I were doing such a good job that they wanted somewhere to promote us to. So they dropped our job titles so they can "promote" us back to Jr. Poobah's later. (Huh?)

My salary is the same. My job duties are the same as nearly as I can tell. Although I also heard a nasty rumor that people in my new position are not allowed to do something that, not only do I do every day, but it would be impossible to do my job without doing. So apparently the job description has changed.

So, I tried thinking about it abstractly. And I tried to rationalize that my salary hasn't changed and I'm not in this job for the prestige, but it bothers the crap out of me. I emailed my father (who also sort of does what I do) and asked him to give me a dose of reality and tell me I was being irrational. Here was his response:

My uninformed guess would be that you're in the middle of some sort of power
play or ego trip – not a good place to be. Titles do matter. They
reflect the worth others place on you and, more importantly, they
influence the worth you place on yourself. And they cost nothing.
That's why as a manager I always handed them out like water. If someone
felt better being called a Grand Pooba, print it on the letterhead. As a
practical matter, I guess it's a trade-off. If [this company] is
going to be your life, I guess it doesn't matter. But if you're going to
have to update a resume some day – it'd be worth having a conversation with
someone. If you think having the conversation is going to get you sacked –
start bailing out now. In any case, the conversation would go something like,
look, I came here with five years experience and now you're telling me you're
going to give me what is essentially an entry level title. This makes me
feel like you, or the company, or someone does not have confidence in the work
I'm doing. If there's a problem, I need to know about it now, because this
feels like a demotion. If this is directed at someone else, then I think
it is unfair to include me in the plan. Moreover, this undermines my
ability to direct the work of [outside people]; if you're a [outside person] in
some [company that does what our department does] in Bum Fuck, Wyoming, are you
going to pay more attention to an [Jr. Poobah] or a [Entry Level Poobah]? See if
you can figure out where the push came from to do this. The giving you
room to be promoted line is bull shit. Somebody feels threatened and
pitched this to someone above who didn't think it through or was assured that it
wouldn't bother you. The someone above is who I would talk to.

I was a little surprised by the response and it just pissed me off more. So, I emailed my boss on Friday and asked for a time to meet with him next week to discuss this. They gave me this freaking "demotion" 5 months into working there. That's not right. And I just realized while I was writing this that the male attorney that was hired when K was did not get the same demotion. Again, he does something different than we do and he's got twice the experience I do, but it just doesn't feel fair.

Okay, nuf bitchin. Gotta go.

A Week of Single Parenthood

I'm three days into a week with B out of town and the single parent thing is a tough gig. We're living in a second story apartment right now so I really have no way to get Ryan and the groceries into the house at the same time. I can't put him down to take things out of the car and bring them upstairs because he'll run in the street or scream when he can't see me or try to climb up the incredibly hazardous stairs that lead to our apartment. I sneak out at night to take out the trash and do other random chores like loading the dishwasher after he's sleeping -which is tough because he goes to sleep at about 9PM these days and I'm not really that far behind. And I've tried to get up before him so I can shower, but I'll just spare you the details.

I did something incredibly impulsive yesterday. I left work about an hour and a half early and went to a nearby ritzy shopping area. I bought a couple of tops and - the impulsive thing - a large Coach purse. And when I say large, I mean that it's practically carry on luggage, but it was the only one I liked, in the color I liked and big enough to hold all the crap I lug around. And it cost what I consider a small fortune. (I told B what it cost and he laughed at me for thinking it was expensive - he doesn't come from the same place I do, money-wise) And I got a bit of a rush from buying it and I was so excited and it came with it's own special bag and, by God, I'm too nervous to take it out of the special bag. So it's sitting in my closet and probably will until I get up the nerve to use it and decide that it's just a purse, so it's okay if Ryan smooshes a banana into it. (Highly likely, by the way)

Our poor cat is having a bad time. Ryan has gotten to the age where he's fascinated with the cat and there is no hiding place too small for him to get into. And to him, she's just an object, and he doesn't understand "gentle" or "nice". Add to that the fact that she seems to be almost completely blind now. She has run right into walls, my leg, you name it. She likes to drink water out of the bathtub so I went over to turn it on for her. She jumped up and over the edge of the tub and then tried to jump over the other edge (the one that's attached to a wall) and, of course, slammed into the wall. I think it's because she can't see anything until it's only a few inches away. She's been hacking up an unusual number of furballs and having the usual litter box problems.... the only good thing I can say is that her fur looks pretty good since I took a pair of scissors to her and gave her a crew cut. It's grown out nicely, even if she doesn't ever preen herself.

And speaking of fur, er, hair - I'm going in for a cut and some highlights tomorrow. Highlights aren't as much of a commitment as a full dye job, so I think I'll be okay there. And we'll see if Mark can do something fabulous with my hair today. I'm going to try to be more explanatory about what I want. And then he can tell me that the laws of physics do not allow that to happen and we'll negotiate for something more realistic. I wish you could just save an old hair cut or color like some computer file and download it as necessary. Long and red one day, short and blonde the next. Oh wait, that's what wigs are for, huh?

Well, here are some happy thoughts for the day:
I've eaten very healthy for three days in a row - hopefully I can keep it up!
Today, I'm healthy, Ryan and B are healthy and, as far as I know, everyone else is healthy.
I'm going to get a work-sponsored trip out to Atlanta and see my grandmother later this year.
B got box seat tickets for a Cirque du Soleil performance in a couple of weeks.
I'm finally ready to leave Ryan with a babysitter for an evening (now we just have to find one)
I've been getting lots of kudos at work lately
And, a big one, I realized that I already have a style of my own.

What kind of woman am I?

Okay, so, B & I sold our old house and it's a done deal now. We got incredibly lucky and made a fair profit on it- especially considering the serious nosedive the housing market is taking here right now. And B wants to buy another old car that's been restored because he just hasn't gotten it out of his system after the Rolls that had a salvage title and the Mercedes that was falling apart and, thankfully, got stolen. So, I get some money to play with too and I thought it would be a good idea to update my wardrobe and do a little mini makeover. After all, I'm in my 30s now and I'm at the age where I'm supposed to develop some kind of identity and style that I can wear and develop for the rest of my years. No more experimenting with hot pink miniskirts and blue nail polish. Okay, maybe the blue nail polish is okay - on my toes. But the point is that I'm in that weird place. I'm not in my 20s anymore and my body is showin' the age, lemme tell ya. But I'm not in my 40s, either. So, where is the middle ground between putting my boobs shamelessly on display all over the place and wearing one of those victorian shirts that buttons all the way up the back of your neck?

I've been reading a book that has some interesting parts, some ridiculous parts and some downright oppressive parts called What Would Jackie Do? (Meaning Jackie Kennedy (Onassis)). She was a woman of great style and there are a lot of things in there that are good nuggets - like the not putting your boobs on display thing. It definitely can be sexier for there to be some mystery I think. My necklines have been getting higher for years, but have I gone too far? I think so. I think it's time to rid my closet of all the shirts my husband can wear. I read somewhere that women with larger breasts look better in V necks because it sort of breaks them up visually - so I think my style is going to be mostly V neck tops and maybe some deep Vs with a camisole underneath. But where the hell do you shop for that?

Here's my shopping dilemma. I don't want to piecemeal a cute top here, a skirt there and hope I find a match when I wander into my closet. But places like Talbots are way too old for me. Most department stores cater to either the juniors or the 40+ somethings (and, let me tell you that in Scottsdale, I run into a lot of 40+ somethings that are shopping in the wrong department.... somebody shoot me if I have a teenage girl and we actually wear the same clothes). But, is Gap too young for me? Too mainstream? What about J Crew? Banana Republic? Ann Taylor is so very black and white this year and I'm not sure that's a flattering color scheme for me, but the brilliant pastels in Ann Taylor Loft and Brooks Brothers just aren't right either. There are so many choices I don't even know where to begin!

And what kind of woman am I anyway? What colors do I look good in? What cuts are flattering? Where the hell is the handbook?????

And I thought about coloring my hair again today - going slightly reddish, but frankly it's a pain in the ass to keep colored hair and everyone's own natural color looks best on them anyway. And I always thought I liked myself with short hair - I had some interesting short hairstyles before - but this last time has been disastrous. I got the butchest cut known to man or woman by a guy that clearly didn't notice the natural wave in the back of my head and it was such a bad cut I have not yet managed to get a decent haircut since then. Even my regular guy couldn't fix it - and he managed to fix a bad home dye job for me.

But, back to the style question. Do I want to be a skirt girl or a pants girl? Flats or heels? Tastes great or less filling?

Maybe I need to do some research.

In the meantime, how about a Ryan update? Let's see, I think I mentioned that he's got 7 teeth now. He has figured out how to run and open doors (not the round knobs, yet, just the lever handles). He gets pretty easily frustrated and breaks out into sobs of anger and frustration periodically. When he's walking along and he sees someone he doesn't know coming, he sits down. If you're carrying him, he covers his face. Of course, if it's a girl, he'll peek coyly out from behind his hands to flirt.

His skin looks fantastic these days. I haven't really talked about his eczema much lately, mostly because it's all but gone. Take out all the things he's allergic to and wham! clear skin. It sort of makes me wish I'd been allergy tested as a teenager. Maybe I could have avoided the hideous acne problems. I'm debating being tested now. Who knows if I'm allergic to (fill in the blank) and just cutting that out of my diet will have my skin glowing or my energy level skyrocketing? It's worth a shot right? But I just turned that back into me again.

Ryan's just the cutest little guy and I can't help being madly in love with him. But the hormonal danger hit me a few weeks ago. A woman I work with who was out on maternity leave showed up at the office with her very small, very cute little baby girl and I felt that rush of Ohmygod I want another baby. It's a powerful drug, those hormones. And for the freaking life of me, I can't remember to take the pill every day. I'm on my third pill pack in 2 months. So, I just decided to give up. What the hell, right?

B was joking the other day that we should have triplets the next time. We both had a good laugh over that. I think we'd die. I don't know how people do it with twins, much less more.

Anyway, my thoughts have drifted and I'm going to go to bed now. Maybe I'll wake up just knowing where to shop.

Random Thoughts

Ryan's got very squarish little hands - boy hands. Every day I watch him for new accomplishments and some sign of what kind of little person he's going to be. Some days I wonder if my belief that children are going to become the person they are meant to be is too new ageish. Should I tell him who to be? Doctor... painter... novelist. It seems like that would only irritate him and frustrate me. But in small ways I suppose we are shaping him - by the food we provide and the clothes we put him in. B and I even differ on one weird matter - when he wears a polo type shirt how many buttons should be undone? I say one, B says two. Why does "two" bother me? I don't know. But what if Ryan likes two undone? Or, what if he's going to be a mullet kid or a kid that wears jerseys? And, is there merit to the theory that if I'm willing to let my little boy wear pink or wear a dress to school if he wants to- that I'm actually encouraging him to do that?

Anyway, all my random ramblings tonight aren't about Ryan. B went to Cali for the weekend to look at another old car he thinks he might buy and to try to sell a necklace of mine at a gun show with his father. The necklace is sort of a funny story. It's the most god awful gaudiest thing I've ever seen. It's like the kind of necklace you'd wear if you had craploads of money and were having a fancy evening out, on a yacht, in Europe or somewhere. It is very structured and shiny and with a big emerald centerpiece and very not me. Plus, it always pulled at the hairs on my neck. BTW, when I mentioned this fact to my FIL, he joked "you have hairs on your neck?" as if that was funny. Who the hell doesn't have hairs on their neck?

But, back to the necklace. B bought it the weekend of my birthday two years ago in a blind panic after I told him I was pregnant. It cost a small fortune and was just about the dumbest idea ever at the time. But I understood why he did it - and I'll be happy if it sells for what we paid for it.

I bet B that he would get into 2 fights with his father this weekend. He disagreed because neither I nor his brother will be around (apparently we are catalysts for fights, he thinks). Catalyst or not, I'd lay good odds that there will be a fight anyway.

He invited me and Ryan to come out with him, but I really hate to be blunt and say that I'd rather walk across hot coals than step foot in his parents house again. It's funny - his moods - some days he wants a strong bond with his parents and other days he jokes about how much money it would take for them never to talk to us again (it makes more sense in context, I promise).

The cabinets are in the new house. They look more reddish than I remembered and weird against the wall color we selected.

The closer it is to done, the more I'm just ready for it to be over.

I realized today that I've been pretty badly sick three times in the 5 months I've been working. I bought new pillows and threw out the old ones, washed all the sheets in hot water - and I'll do the same with the towels tomorrow. I think it's a combination of things - Ryan's bringing home germs, I'm out in the world after 9 months of seclusion and my immune system is low, and I think it also has to do with me not having a window to the outside world. I love sunlight. Not sunbathing or anything, but it refreshes you to see the sun, it helps your body regulate night and day, it produces vitamins that you need. I'm just not equipped to work in a cubicle all day under artificial light. I don't go out for lunch much and I guess I should start.

It also occurred to me that I've been cheating myself by my New Year's Resolutions for years. I usually make one goal that is something along the lines of "get in shape" or "lose X pounds", when I really should just have the goal of "Be Healthy"

10 years ago I was a vegetarian. I'm not going to say that I didn't eat junk because I sure did, but I also ate a lot of healthy stuff and I was younger, so I could withstand the junk better. But now - the amount of crap I put in my body is astounding. It's just so freakin cheap and easy and tastes good. Only very rarely do I catch a glimpse of a really overweight, slothlike person with their jumbo soda waddling down the street and think to myself - that could be me.

With my mom, I know the "deserve it" mentality. Everyone thinks they work hard. Everyone thinks that life is tough and they go through some shit now and again. But not everyone knows how to deal with it and the average joe (jane) "treats" themselves (daily) because they "deserve it." - how many people do you know that have dessert after every dinner? after every meal? instead of every meal?

And who the hell convinced America that we need to drink upwards of 44 oz of liquid sugar with our meals? Portions are bigger. Drink glasses are bigger - and we get free refills!

I didn't mean to soap box. I have an occasional soda, but I do it mostly for the caffeine than the taste, because frankly it's too sweet for me and it leaves a dirty feeling in your mouth anyway.

My cousins are getting married. The male and female cousin that came to my wedding and made everyone wonder "They're brother and sister?" like that episode of Friends. But, it's not going to be that funny of a story. They're not getting married to each other. I'm pretty sure that's still illegal.

M announced her engagement a couple of weeks ago with no set date. K apparently just announced his wedding to a different gal than the one everyone met and the one he was planning to propose to 6 months ago on the weekend BEFORE thanksgiving. Kind of an odd time for me to be able to make it, but we'll see. I still have to call him back so he can tell me personally instead of hearing it through the grapevine. It's funny, because when I heard M was engaged, my first reaction was "Man, K's really going to start to feel the pressure now."

The two engagements of our cousins should send my sister's personal inadequacy meter right over the edge. In fact, as long as I'm in a betting mood. I'll bet you all right here and now that SHE will be engaged to SOMEONE by Thanksgiving. God help her poor little girls. It must be so confusing.

Do you ever think to yourself: my childhood would have been so much better if I had just (fill in the blank). Gone to space camp? Kissed Johnny Cutie at the school dance? Lost my virginity earlier or later?

It's getting late. Time for bed.

Bummed

I'm totally bummed because I deleted an email that my mother sent me this weekend - and I would really have liked to post part of it here.

She stopped taking one of her medications on Thursday. Something about being too tired to take it after having her teeth cleaned and then just deciding to stop taking it. I forget what the name of it was - she was still taking her Zoloft and tells me the other stuff was for seizures (or what she thinks are seizures).

So, she called my cellphone on Friday to ask about getting together this weekend and B answered because he's got my phone now (I'm using one from work). She asked whether we'd moved because our home phone was disconnected and he told her we were still moving. He also mentioned he might leave town for the weekend. Anyway, I didn't call her back that night - and at 3 ish in the morning, she emailed me asking what was going on and saying that she was worried about me and (Sheesh! I really wish I had the email) why was B answering my cellphone. She said something along the lines of "you know my imagination. I imagined something like War of the Roses"

Okay. So my mother thinks my husband killed me. Sometimes, you have to laugh at the crazy.
I mean, on the plus side, if something ever did happen to me she would certainly be on the phone with the police in no time.

Now, on Ryan. He's gotten much better. I ended up taking an afternoon off of work to be with him and he perked up that very afternoon. I like to think that all he needed was a little mommy love.

The house is almost finished... let me see if I can find a picture. We move in sometime in late October. Very exciting! We'll have Halloween (my favorite holiday) Thanksgiving and Christmas in the new house.