1/31

I do not follow the rules of the dating game. I am awful at any kind of games that involve the heart, unless it is the: "Let's smash her heart, make her cry, and feel like an awful person for a really long time" game that I let people play with me. This destructive game keeps me stocked up on anti-depressants and keeps the psychiatrists in my area well employed. I'm not even sure that if I knew all the rules to the "dating game" that I would play.

Here is what I do know: 1) I have a good, trusting (somewhat cyncial and bitter after the last two years) heart. I instinctively believe people (FOB excluded) when they say that they are going to do something. When someone says, "call me", they shouldn't be surprised when I do. 2) There is a special place in hell for people that mess with feelings of a single Mom. That place is hot, humid, and has monsters that continually rip off your genitals and then sew them back on with a rusty paperclip and some fishing wire. Standing someone up is one thing. It's a shitty thing to do, but it's one thing. Standing someone up after they have arranged for a babysitter is tantamount to admitting that you a cold, heartless bastard with absolutely no heart to speak of.

I have better ways of telling someone that I don't want to date them. I just do. They might hurt and they might not be as convenient, but at least they are honest and they come from my very tattered, bruised heart.

1/30

What a sad weekend. I think I've reached one of my lows within this first year of my son's life. On Friday, I watched, "What Not to Wear" (one of my favorite shows) and then went to bed as early as possible. Although, it was ridiculous to think that I could sleep. I was lying awake having a panic attack and reached out to My New Shoes via phone. Through various points in my adult life, MNS has been there through the rough times. She was living in London while I was at Oxford and we managed to see each other about twice a month. She would come over and we would do "crazy" things like: talk about politics, feminism, and cut each others' hair in the bathtub, because it is really, really hard to find a good, cheap barber in England (damn socialists!)

Anyways, MNS and I have started a club. You are welcome to join the club, but the membership rules dictate that you have to be celebate for at least one full calendar year before applying. Our club (really it's more of a goal, I'd say), aptly titled: "Sex in 06", is dedicated to the pursuit of finding love and, of course, getting some action (wow - I never thought that I would write that sentence knowing that my parents and relatives read this blog, but you can see how desperate I've become: I will now talk about literally anything to anyone). At least MNS had a couple of dates this weekend (more than one!! I haven't gone out on more than one date in a weekend since - oh, wait - never).

I was supposed to go out with the trainer, but he called me at 7:30am to cancel our workout session.He said that he went home sick from work on Friday and couldn't go and workout with me (it was a casual (read: free) workout). He told me to call him later on in the day to figure out what we were going to do that night. I did. Three times. He never returned my phone call. I'm a pathetic loser - both for caring so much and because I called three times, thinking that maybe his phone wasn't working or he was dead.

I had arranged my parents to watch Zac, picked out my outfit, and was ready to go. He never called. I finally went out to dinner by myself and then to a bar, where I quickly learned that drinking while upset makes me want to puke. Two beers later and I was back in my house by 10:30pm. On Sunday, I actually cried over this jerk. He was the first person I've been interested in since the FOB, and, not-so-coincedentally, the first person that has made me cry since I had Zac. We have been training together since October and I felt like I knew him well enough to at least have seen that coming. I had no clue he could be like that, except for the fact that I wanted it to work so much, at that of course doomed it to failure.

See? It's possible that I'm getting ready to have my period and it's making me more emotional than usual, but I'm also just sad and lonely. I wish I had friends and the time and money to actually DO something with this hypothetical people that I don't live in the same city.

So here is my call for friendship: if there is anyone out there that would like to come to my house, watch me put Zac to bed, get ready to go out, put Zac to bed again after he wakes up, and then go and have a couple of beers, now is your opportunity.

In other words, it is time to deblurk. I know that there are people out there that read this blog. Show me some love and maybe I'll continue to get up in the morning and stop writing blog entries that resemble this one.

1/27

Geez, one day she's complaining about rich people being "insightful" and the next day she's dropping a kid out! My goodness. ALL I talked about before having Zac was, well, Zac. Let's face it, I primarily only talk about him now as it is.

Sigh.

I'm having a *sigh* kind of day. I just got paid today, which used to make me feel exalted and excited for the upcoming weekend. Now I just dread paying bills and worrying about money.

Good news: I have finally received child support from the FOB. The state of Texas was planning on doing "corrective action" to collect on the $2,400 in back child support that he owed so he called the Office of Attorney General's Office (OAG) and had them garnish his paycheck.

Sad news: He told me that if they garnished his paycheck that he couldn't spend (read: drink) any of the money and he wouldn't have to think about. Yup. He told me that he woudn't have to think about where that money was going or that he had a responsibility to pay child support.

More depressing news: At lunch today I worked out a budget of all my expenses. Even with the child support money, I can't afford to live on my own. After all of my mandatory bills, I have $803 left at the end of the month. There's no way I could afford a mortgage payment, home owners insurance, food, diapers, and clothes for Zac with that amount of money. I'm even now getting formula assistance from WIC (instead of milk, cheese, eggs, and cereal), but I still can't stretch the money that far. Until I get a higher paying job or my parents kick me out, I'll continue being a single Mom that lives with her Mom and Dad.

Maybe I could move into a really cheap apartment. They have some one bedrooms that go for $450-$500 a month, possibly find some cheaper daycare (although there is something almost ethically wrong with having to bargain basement shop for daycare - it's my CHILD people!), move closer to work to cut down on gas, quit the gym, buy only second-hand clothes, hand wash cloth diapers, or set up a tent in my parents' backyard as a form of pseudo-independence.

Yeah. Right. This depressing blog entry deserves a beer.

1/26

Either the trainer is insensitive, I'm oversensitive, or a little of both. When I asked him if he wanted to hang out Saturday night he said, "I don't see why not. hmmm....yeah, we can hang out." I don't see why not.... Well, you might not be able to if I kick your ass for being a poophead. I don't see why not! Geesh. Clearly he doesn't realize that I have a full social calendar that involves staring at my cell phone wishing that it would ring, watching home improvement shows on TLC, and generally feeling bad about myself because I haven't been able to make friends here.

As I was walking in the door last night from the gym, my Dad hollered out that I might get to see my son awake if I hurried into the living room. About half way there I heard: "Nope. Too late." I walked in to find Zac sleeping in my Mom's arms. I took him and held him for a little while and then walked into his room to put him down in his crib. I kid you not, he didn't have his head on his crib for more than 30 seconds before he started crying. He did not want to be put down, he wanted to be held and rocked, even while asleep. I obliged because it seems heartless to make your son "cry it out" when you've been away from home for the past 13 hours. Maybe he should have let me cry it out instead.

When he woke up at 11pm, I had just fallen asleep. That is the hardest time for me to be up with him because every part of my body is screaming, "GO TO SLEEP". He polished off 8 ounces of formula, a little boob milk, and was still fussing. I pulled him up onto my chest and patted his back until he fell asleep. Somewhere in between him falling asleep and me passing out, I neglected to move him off my chest and onto the bed. I woke up at three am after hearing a distinct "smack" sound. It sounded exactly like a body part hitting a solid object. I'm not exactly sure what it was; whether it was my elbow, Zac's hand, or his head. He had rolled off my chest and was laying perilously close to the nightstand and the abyss over the side of the bed.

Good morning to me.

1/25

The trainer wants to see me again. Granted, it's Wednesday and he's seen me twice already this week, but that has been all gym related. After freaking out on Sunday about the whole "dating" thing, I finally started to calm down. It didn't help that when I went to work the first thing that everyone asked me about was my weekend and, more specifically, my date. I had no idea that my co-workers were so protective of me and so interested that in me being happy.

On Monday, the trainer was really excited to see me and smiled a lot. It was just really nice, even if I was trying to do situps on a ball and not fall on my head. He told me funny stories and generally tried to make me forget that I was doing lunges would make me sore for two days.

OH - Gotta go, now. I'm late for my appointment with my trainer. You know I'm all about working out.

1/22

I went on a date last night with a guy that I've been flirting with for the past three months. It was my first date in Texas and I was amazed at how nervous I was. Part of the problem is that this guy is my trainer. He has actually taken a tape measure to my waist and told me what percentage of body fat I have. That tends to be a rough transition from that to a casual Saturday night date.

I started training with him almost three months, to the day, after Zac's birth. I had just gotten word from my Doc that I could work out and I got a trainer to help me keep all of my intenstines where they needed to be after my C-section. He and I were friendly with each other and although we kept trying to make plans to hang out, it never happened before now.

As I was getting dressed last night, it occurred to me that it was ridiculous to try and look good for a guy that has seen me at my worst (6:15am, sweating, doing lunges for thirty minutes, swearing, wondering why I actually believed that I needed to "eat for two" during my pregnancy). But, I got dressed and met him a restaurant.

I could go on about the details of the date, but I won't. Right now I'm left with the feeling that I had too much beer, made too many blunt statements and asked too many direct questions(a naturally blunt personality + alcohol = disaster in the making), and generally made a fool of myself. The thing is, I don't think that he's that in to me, which is fine. I'm just so scared that to date again, I have to open myself up and make myself vulnerable. I've spent the past year doing everything that I could to not be vulnerable, to not care for the FOB that abadoned fatherhood, and to learn how to be the primary emotional and physical caregiver for my child.

I've cried a lot in the past year, felt very, very sorry for myself at different points, and even mourned the loss of my independence, but never once have I had to obsess about whether so and so likes me or doesn't like me. I feel like damaged goods. Like no one is going to be able to see beyond my fear of getting hurt, my anxieties about dating, and my need to have someone lead me very tenderly back into a safe relationship. Those ideas seem so unattainable and so far away! He said one point last night that he is a "single Mom magnet". Damnit!! I'm not just a "single mom". That label feels so constrictive and allows people to group all women with children and no partners into a uniform, desperate category. How can I explain to someone that even kissing is a big deal to me, after not kissing for so long? Sex? Hell, that is completely out of the question at this point.

Maybe I'll just sign myself up for sky diving. Instead of fearing life, I'll fear death at 7,000 feet.

1/19

This is Zac getting WAY more action than I've seen in recent history with our friend Melissa at Jenna's pre-marathon carbohydrate party. Melissa watched Zac the first week after I went back to work, although now she is going to school and living in central Texas. So, if anyone is looking for a hot, socially-responsible, nutritionist, give me a holla' and I'll hook you up. (Yes, I am shameless).

"You want me to run what? I can't even crawl yet!"

I'm so tired that I'm ready to curl up next to Zac and try and get some sleep. He was out by 7:30pm tonight (Hallelujah! Praise Jesus!!) I had to get up extremely early on Sunday to make it to downtown Houston to cheer on the "Run for a Reason" running team. My Mom and I were both out at the "Hoopla Station" at Mile 7 to watch everyone go by, with Zac in tow. Zac ended up getting windburned/sunburned and a little annoyed at all the noise. It was worth it, though, as the waves of palpable energy emanated from the sea of runners. My Dad (Grandpatobe) walked the half marathon in three hours, thirty minutes. I was so motivated by the whole event that I even volunteered to lead the HFB Running Team next year in the (*gasp*) marathon.

This is clearly what happens when I don't get my period for over fifteen months! I start doing crazy things and since my period has basically explained every other crazy event in my life, I'm definately saying that I have been insane since October 2004. This is just its latest manifestation. OH, I also found out what the "last straw" was with that woman at work. Her phrase to me was: "Things have been escalating for quite some time now and this was just the last straw!" Escalating? Last straw? I stood there, completely confused out of my mind, and ended up sobbing on my way home from work, talking to Aunt Jen. In my mind, Jen was like, "Uh, huh, yeah, she sounds like a real bitch, yeah, uh, huh. No, you're not crazy. Did you know that I'm in the middle of a major life crisis trying to change jobs and move houses? Really, ok, I'm sorry that she was mean to you, but....." It went on like that for almost a half-an-hour. Jen is best person to call when I'm upset because she always has an action plan and if action doesn't work, then she at least can sympathize.

However, I had to go talk to HR about this woman that sits in my office (one office = 3 cubicles = no privacy). Apparently, I had eaten her chicken. Yup, she had some unmarked chicken in the communal refrigerator that I cut up and put in my salad. I thought that it was leftover from one of the lunches that an agency in town brings us (the paradox being, of course, that a food distribution organization routinely gets prepared food brought to them) . The HR guy said that I should keep my personal distance.

Point taken.

1/11

The new EOM (with parking spot included!) is having a hard time at work. I've at not just one, but TWO personality conflicts in the span of three days. I have a really, really hard time dealing with personality problems, mainly, when people have problems with me. I usually just deny that have problems with people and try to act friendly.

I may not look like it from the outside, but I'm extremely sensitive and definately into pleasing others. My entire line of work is about making other people's lives better. That has to say something about me. Ever since puberty, however, I've dealt with the fact that I make people angry. Not just a little anger that blows over in a couple of days. I'm talking - ANGERRRRRR. There is something about me that grates on other people.

Please don't tell me the bullshit about this happening to everyone because it doesn't, especially in work place environments. I see plenty of people who work professionally and not have problems with people. Or maybe they have a problem every odd year or so. This happens regularly to me.

Is it my age? My black and white outlook or determination to solve a problem and finish a task regardless of how someone might feel? (Wow, that question makes be sound like a bitch, no?) Even when I try and focus on how other people might feel, make "I" statements and say things like, "I want to check in with you. Have I done something to anger you?" People still say, "YES!"

I try and be a good person, treat others with respect, smile and say "Good morning" and "Have a good night,"but I consistently FAIL!!!! I hate failing. I'm an overachiever, dammit.

What sucks about this post is that I can hear my therapist in the background. She used to say that I was so good at beating myself up that when I start to do it, I should listen for her voice, the rational, calm one that says things like: "It's ok to not be perfect. You are going to have people in life that dislike you. It doesn't make you a bad person," and find the power within myself to fight back to my own negativity.

GRRRRRRRR

OK, Employee of the Month has a new decree - EVERYONE AT WORK MUST LIKE ME. If you don't like me, fake it for my own sanity.

1/06

Framji is shaming me with her poetry.

No words of importance or social significance, just a brief congratulations for myself.

I was named Employee of the Month today, which entitles me to the close parking spot and eight hours of vacation (which I can't use for another three months. I had to take two days of unpaid leave for my last vacation because I wasn't out of my six month probation period).

Yes, being named EOM doesn't make up for the extremely expensive health insurance that comes with a non-profit job, the small salary, long hours, or general abuse.....but it's nice and I'm leaving for the weekend feeling proud and thinking about where to go out for dinner.

1/05

For M, stories from the Northeast:

It's hard to sum up my entire trip to the Northeast. It was my first trip with Zac, alone, so there were some extra challenges, but also extra small joys and triumphs. Here is what I learned over my winter vacation:

• I can read a magazine in airport for at least 20-30 minutes as long as I give Zac another magazine to chew on. He can happily chew while I read the 2005 Worst Dressed list.

• The Chili's restaurant in the Detroit airport won't let you bring strollers in, no matter how hard you fight. I tried to tell them that if they were handicapped accessible, then they could accomodate a stroller. The woman kept repeating: "Do you see the sign? The sign says no strollers," to which I said: "Well, the sign is stupid." Not my most brilliant comeback, but it's hard to be brilliant while your son is chewing on a stuffed monkey and the front, left wheel of your stroller isn't touching the ground.

• Zac looks adorable in a snow suit, even though he hates wearing one.

• My sister and brother-in-law are fantastic at watching Zac. I left to go out on New Year's Eve and instead of worrying about Zac, I worried about Jen and K. being alright with him.

• I don't have romantic feelings for the FOB, much to my surprise and delight.

• I do want to rip off his head and shove it down his deadbeat ass, much to my surprise and delight. I actually don't like to be angry for extended periods of time and the anger I feel towards him was more shocking in its intensity.

• It's a lot of fun to say "No". Really, I think I should do it more often. For example, when the FOB asked if I could get him a bottle for Z: "No. Get it yourself and juggle the squirming baby while you are at it and think about all the times that I had to do it after recovering from my C-section while you were out drinking and having sex."

• Snow, be it wet and heavy or freezing rain, is cold, especially when you've lived in Texas for the past year.

• It is almost impossible to push a stroller on a sidewalk that hasn't been plowed or salted. I tried in Northampton. Their efforts to be an eco-friendly campus causes me to swear profusely.

• Mixing beer and champagne, even at midnight on New Year's Eve, the night that you think you can do anything, will make me throw up during a cab ride. It's even worse when you arrive at your destination and realize, not only do you not know where you are, but that owners of the house don't know you. All night, as I slept on a circa 1970s sky blue couch, I heard: "And we don't even know who this girl is!". Yes, I was that drunk woman that passes out in a comfortable spot, only to have the party move into the room where she lies, sleeping and unknown.

• Having friends and family around me, only emphasized how much I miss having a partner, but I love to see Zac smile and stick his tongue out and everyone that I love and who love him in return.