Wednesday, November 23, 2005


An actual conversation that I had yesterday:

Nice, older woman sitting in a crowded room full of teenagers, adults, and one precocious baby: "What do you do at work?"

Me, assuming that she is asking about breast feeding try to tastefully say in a hushed tone: "I express my breast milk during the day."

Nice, older woman, looking confused, repeats: "What do you DO at work?"

Me, also confused, thinks that maybe she didn't hear me. I say louder: "I pump breast milk at work to feed the baby!"

Nice, older woman then looks at me, even more confused: "They pay you to do that? What do YOU DO at work?"

Me, head down with embarrassment, finally understanding, answers humbly: "I'm a grant writer, not a professional wet nurse." (thinking, I'm a such a boob obsessed idiot)

Happy Thanksgiving! I'll write from PA.

Monday, November 21, 2005


Can someone please tell me what has possessed my child? He used to sleep wonderfully, waking up only long enough to suck on some boob and then fall asleep. What has happened to those blissful days?

Last night Zac went to sleep around 9pm, then was up from 12-1am and then again from 4am-6am. I was so tired that I forgot I usually wake up around 6am and somehow convinced myself that it would be a good idea to wake up at 7:20am (which is usually the time I leave for work). I'm in a zombie state of discontent this morning. I have no real idea what is wrong, besides being incredibly tired, but my boss actually pulled me aside to ask if I was ok. Hmmmm.... not so good.

Something seems wrong - like I'm waiting for the other shoe to drop. I've felt this way all weekend, even though, besides my mild anxiety attack Saturday night, nothing really interesting took place.

Maybe I'm just cranky. The whole family is leaving for Pittsburgh on Thursday to spend Thanksgiving with my Dad's family. Aunt Jen is coming down, sans the hubby, and everyone is very excited to see Zac. It will be the first time that most of my extended family has ever seen me as a mother. Part of me is worried about their acceptance of me as a young, single mother. It is easy to say, "Yes, we support you," at a distance, but much harder to look at a person juggling a screaming four month-old while trying to eat turkey and keeping the dog from jumping on said child and not wonder if maybe she's over her head.

I also like to take naps sometimes. When I wake up, I feel so guilty that I had to ask part of family to watch Zac. It feels like I couldn't hack it, had to call a timeout, and revert back to my selfishishness. No one ever told me that there would be this much guilt involved with parenting.

Thursday, November 17, 2005


I've been home sick for the past two days. When I say "home sick" that really means that I've been doing things for work, just not at work. I was called twice, both times when I was soundly asleep, by 10:45am. I finally had to get up.

Zac went to daycare, which leaves me in the house without him. This is a fairly rare occurence. Usually when I'm without Zac, I'm either at work or out with my Mom or friend and Grandpa is babysitting. Sometimes Grandma babysits and Dad and I will go out ( I just cannot write "Dad and me" - I'm sorry, but right here and right now, I'm rewriting English grammar). I can only think of one other time, not-so-coincendentally when I was sick, that I was in the house when Zac wasn't. It's a strange feeling. A little like going back in time: remembering what it was like before I had a child and I could wander aimlessly around a house and shower at random.

Of course I lead a different life than I did, pre-baby. Now I'm concerned with antibacterial soap and carpet cleaner. My Mom had sprayed carpet cleaner on (what else?) the carpet and then put Zac down on his stomach to play. When I went to retrieve the babe, he was wet and licking his lips. I blamed my Mom that she had put him down in a pool of chemical sewage that would have him quickly turning into something like the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles. To say that I overreacted would be to put it mildly. It turns out that he had drooled on the carpet and then rolled in it (hey - who hasn't done that at one point or another?)

As I was wandering around the house this morning, I began to realize how dirty it was. I mean, really dirty and I began to think that Zac deserves better than that. I cleaned until I couldn't clean anymore because my nose feels like it might fall off and my lungs hurt from breathing. Time to go lay down.

To answer R's question though, the little man can sit up by himself with some help, usually in the form of the Bumbo or from me. On November 11th he slept all the way through the night on his own, for the first time. He can roll from stomach to back and when really motivated, from back to stomach. He is started to sprout teeth, but none of them have broken the surface of his gums yet. He's thinking about crawling, but can't get his stomach off the floor and smiles at everyone and everything that will smile back at him. He can also make enough noise to keep himself awake before bedtime. He can also do this:

but only when he wants to.

My little man is growing up.

Monday, November 14, 2005


Yeeee-haw! Guess who decided to party Texas style this weekend?

Well, I haven't heard from the FOB since I told him that he needed to earn back my trust before I help him try to move down to my suburbia and be part of Zac's life. He hung up the phone saying that he would call me tomorrow to tell me if he got the janitor job that he was applying for. His idea was that he would work for a couple of weeks, quit the job, and move to Texas. I haven't heard from him since that last phone call. Clearly I'm no longer any immediate use to him.

So, in my last conversation with the FOB I told him that I was starting to date, which is not technically true. In actuality, I'm starting to "think" about dating. Dating and thinking about dating are very different. One of the reasons I write so much about Zac in this blog is: 1) I promised myself that I wouldn't only talk about my child to the exclusion of everything else to my friends and coworkers, but I didn't promise anything regarding writing.....2) It's my blog and I love him and 3) I really have nothing else going on in my life. I can't write about work. My family all reads this blog so I can't write about them and I don't think that they would appreciate reading about how horny I am after a year of celibacy (literally, a year! I haven't had anything more than a chaste hug and a drooling baby on my shoulder since 2004). I could write about my television watching and my views on pop culture and international events, but that would require more thought and possibly mulitple drafts of work. I can only do so much typing with a couple of fingers while pumping my breasts.

But, this weekend I went out the local bar, listened to a good band, drank some beer, and got quite nicely 'chatted up' by an older gentleman. Whether or not I ever here from him again isn't the point. The point is, is for that brief period of time, in a loud, smoky bar, I felt more like a woman than a mother. I can imagine myself being loved and loving someone. I can imagine raising Zac and not feeling the crushing loneliness anymore, with or without a partner.

Friday, November 11, 2005


The FOB:

You would think that moving 2,000 miles away from the FOB would be enough to permanently exile him from my life. Unfortunately, this little thing called Zac bridges the gap between my life and the FOB's life. We have this tie between us that is stronger than just two people that used to be intimate. He is not my "ex-boyfriend". He is not just "the asshole that got me pregnant then refused to stop drinking, having loud parties, and smoking pot so I had to leave him, move to Texas, and live with my parents". He is all those things and the "Father of MY Baby" (although the acronym FOMB isn't as nice as FOB)

I realized that it had been over month since I had talked to him at the telephone conference for child support. I made the mistake of calling him, which is something akin to inviting the devil in. He told me how ashamed he is about how he treated me when I was pregnant (read: ignored me and refused to return my phone calls) and how ashamed he is that he isn't a part of Zac's life. He wants to move to Texas. To my little suburb of Houston, to be more specific.

This isn't really a new desire on his part. Every couple of months it will surface and then fade into the background as he finds a new job or a new set of friends to party with. The FOB has lost ANOTHER job in New Hampshire, so he thinks now is a good time to move. You see, I know this because he only talks to me when he needs something: information, money, or access to Zac. He asks the obligatory questions about my life, but I can tell that he doesn't care about me, even as a friend or as the mother of his child.

I've been struggling with this realization for the past three days and how much it hurts. He said, "Don't get the wrong idea, here. I wouldn't be moving for you. I would be moving because seeing Zac everyday, even for an hour, would make me happy." Is that what a father does? Sees their child for an hour to make themselves happy? Did I miss something in birthing class that said it was ok to use a child to make an adult feel worthwhile or amused or less of a deadbeat. He's not interested in helping me parent Zac, or even helping me with all of the jobs and responsibilities of raising a child.

Last night I remembered what it was like the first couple of months down here. How I cried almost everyday because I felt so sorry for myself. I couldn't see beyond my pregnancy, fear, and his abadonment of any idea of "family" or responsbility. I'm finally enjoying my life with my son and my new job - and now he wants to be a part of it? Because HE'S ready?

Do I have to forgive him for that?

Sunday, November 06, 2005


The first picture is his "pre-Halloween" outfit that my next door neighbor gave him. The second picture is him in his giraffe suit, which was conveniently purchased in late July for Halloween.

Yes....he is quite possibly the cutest baby ever.

What I like the most about the two pictures, besides his unbelievable smile and blue eyes, is the change in perspective. If you just saw the first picture, you would think that he was just a little baby. If you just saw the second picture, you would think that A) He was a toddler. B) A giant mutant baby or C) A baby with the chubbiest cheeks ever (which is quite possibly true). But, he's mine and I love him....cranky, teething monster and all.

Wednesday, November 02, 2005


To M.:

"Occurred to me the other've been gone now, couple years. Well I guess it takes a while, for someone to really disappear. And I wonder, where you are.....And I wonder, if there was, some better way, to say goodbye," Patty Griffin

I'm haunted by the ghosts of the past. These ghosts show up in my dreams every night, just to remind me that I'm not nearly as well adjusted as I might think I am. Not many people actually are, but how many people regularly dream of someone that they dated in high school? or college? or for two weeks in junior high school?

One of my favorite comedy sketches is Ray Ramano performing at Carnegie Hall. In the routine he says that he has a cast of thousands living in his head during his sexual fantasies. The bit goes something like: "Ok, ok everyone *in a director's voice* gather round, gather round. I want everyone to meet our newest addition to the cast. Her name is....Wait, what was your name again, honey? Megan? Yes, hi Megan. And how did Ray meet you? Oh, he saw you bending over in the subway. Well, sometimes that's all it takes. And tell me Megan, are you bisexual? Well....*laughing* are now. Ok, ok, people let's get this thing started. We don't have all day"

The bit makes me laugh so much because I have the same problem with my dreams. Except that I don't get to dream about people that were nice or kind to me. My dreams are filled with every asshole that I let make me feel inferior, unattractive, and selfish. Everyone that has ever broken my heart plays a starring role in these melodramas. My favorite ones are the ones where I see an ex dating, kissing, flirting, with someone else. In my dreams I see the scenes where I hurt those I loved or cared about over and over again, changing slightly, but never varying from the theme. I see Zac turning translucent and dying in my arms, with me helplessly watching.

I wake up feeling awful about myself as a friend, lover, and mother, completely convinced that I'm never going to find anyone that will love me because I'm such a bad person. Please don't tell me to love myself because I do during my waking hours. I feel good about my new job and even my new haircut. Zac wakes up ecstatic to see my family after eight hours of solitude and smiles and giggles for our entertainment over Cheerios (I have no idea where he got that characteristic from. I can barely see in the morning, let alone giggle).

If I could talk to the characters of my dreams, it might sound something like: "Well, thanks for joining us here in the land of misery and melodrama. We're so glad that you could make it and, fortunately, thanks to our sponsor's generous donation of her unconcsious, you are guaranteed a very long run in this production. So get comfy, meet and greet each other because you will interacting quite frequently, and let's get started. We have someone to haunt here people, and she's going to be waking up soon to feed Zac!"