Yesterday I freaked out a bit about the whole daycare/living by myself/raising Zac thing, which I think just proves that I'm normal. It would be more upsetting if I was completely confident in the decision. Confidence usually proves that I'm heading toward a huge mistake.
After I got off work I toured a franchise daycare facility in north Houston that is 8 miles from my apartment. Unfortunately, 8 miles in Houston equals a 30 minute commute time. There is a franchise right next to my place, but they only accept kids that are walking. Zac still has a long way to go before he gets to that stage. Don't get me wrong, he scoot with the best of them. Walking, though, not so much. Basically, if I register him at this location, his registration fee is covered at all of the franchise locations. When he starts walking, I get to stop driving 30 minutes in traffic (which is why I moved in the first place).
Houston, like most other highly segregated cities, has areas that are predominantly black/Hispanic or white. Friendswood was almost all white, with a little bit of racial diversity just for kicks. My new neighborhood is almost all black, with a little bit of white thrown in around the fringes. I actually had to ask about racial tolerance at the daycare facility. I hate to be the obnoxious white person asking a room full of women of color about race. I'm liberal enough to know, though, that racial intolerance exists and it won't go away if I squeeze my eyes tight enough and pretend that it doesn't exist. I think that people need to engage in dialogue about race, rather than letting fear of appearing politically incorrect stymie the discussion.
Anyways, they said that the daycare didn't have any other white kids and for those of you that haven't seen a recent picture of my son, he's not just white, he's blonde hair, blue eyes, there-is-no-mistaking, white-white. Embarassingly shiny and cute next to me with my dark, bedraggled hair and puffy, sleep-deprived eyes. The daycare providers all thought that he was the most unique thing that had walked through their door in quite a while. They all got down on the floor to play with him and told me how cute he is (I already know, but it's nice to hear anyways).
Needless to say, the place has a very professional staff with a safe, loving environment. Zac would be fortunate enough to go there next week, even if I may have to start referring to him as, "the white boy scooting across the floor, drooling" when I go and pick him up.
Tuesday, April 11, 2006
Monday, April 10, 2006
4/10
Apparently, I'm a total asshole. When I switched my template over (does everyone like the new design? I realized that I wasn't writing as much on my blog because I didn't like the way it looked), I enabled the "Comment Moderator" button. It is a really small little button that tells the blog to store all comments until the "Comment Moderator" (a.k.a. me) published the comments. All weekend I was getting crap from friends that had tried to comment, only to be told that their comment had to be approved by the "Comment Moderator" (I like to put it in quotations because it makes me sound like a superhero. Dadadaduhduh, "I am the Comment Moderator. Fear me, oh, humble commenters. You must be approved!!!!".)
OK, clearly that part isn't serious. I love reading the comments, though. Evne my Mom likes to tell me when people have commented on here, as in: "Wasn't that nice of XXX to say that she supports you?" or, "It sounds like XXX doesn't have a very high opinion of you." She loves the commenting feature even more than I do. Not only does she get to read my personal thoughts, which I may or may not have shared with her before publication, but she gets to read what people think about the thoughts. Then she gets to think about them and we are all thinking together in one happy cyper community.
I'm itching at the seams to go and pick Z up from the new daycare lady. Something doesn't seem right. Last night was the first night that Zac and I had spent in our new apartment. The air conditioner was still broken (the maintenance folk at the apartment complex tried to tell me that they fixed it last week. HA!! I know the difference between "heat rising" and "the bloody air conditioner is making noise, but not cooling a damn thing and I'm laying on my bed sweating and praying that it drops below 70 degrees at night") so I spent a rather uncomfortable evening wondering where I might have packed my eye glasses and questioning the sanity of moving one lightbulb from room to room (yes, I only have one lightbulb right now. It follows me wherever I go. I plan on getting some more this evening.) This morning I dropped him off at the home daycare and had a bad feeling about the whole thing. I even went and checked on him at lunch, which I've never done before. Granted, I've never lived less than 6 miles away from work before either.
It's funny how I start to take advantage of Zac being in my life. I get annoyed when he drools on me constantly or whines for my attention. He even crawls after me when I leave the room and will only be perfectly content when I'm holding him. Separation anxiety can test even the most saintly of mother, which I'm not. Then I have days like today, where I would move the Earth to be with him and keep him safe. I think about what it would be like if he weren't in my life anymore and it causes a jittery, panicked feeling to race throughout my whole body.
OK, clearly that part isn't serious. I love reading the comments, though. Evne my Mom likes to tell me when people have commented on here, as in: "Wasn't that nice of XXX to say that she supports you?" or, "It sounds like XXX doesn't have a very high opinion of you." She loves the commenting feature even more than I do. Not only does she get to read my personal thoughts, which I may or may not have shared with her before publication, but she gets to read what people think about the thoughts. Then she gets to think about them and we are all thinking together in one happy cyper community.
I'm itching at the seams to go and pick Z up from the new daycare lady. Something doesn't seem right. Last night was the first night that Zac and I had spent in our new apartment. The air conditioner was still broken (the maintenance folk at the apartment complex tried to tell me that they fixed it last week. HA!! I know the difference between "heat rising" and "the bloody air conditioner is making noise, but not cooling a damn thing and I'm laying on my bed sweating and praying that it drops below 70 degrees at night") so I spent a rather uncomfortable evening wondering where I might have packed my eye glasses and questioning the sanity of moving one lightbulb from room to room (yes, I only have one lightbulb right now. It follows me wherever I go. I plan on getting some more this evening.) This morning I dropped him off at the home daycare and had a bad feeling about the whole thing. I even went and checked on him at lunch, which I've never done before. Granted, I've never lived less than 6 miles away from work before either.
It's funny how I start to take advantage of Zac being in my life. I get annoyed when he drools on me constantly or whines for my attention. He even crawls after me when I leave the room and will only be perfectly content when I'm holding him. Separation anxiety can test even the most saintly of mother, which I'm not. Then I have days like today, where I would move the Earth to be with him and keep him safe. I think about what it would be like if he weren't in my life anymore and it causes a jittery, panicked feeling to race throughout my whole body.
Tuesday, April 04, 2006
4/04
So, lately when I've talked to my friends on the phone or over e-mail, I've been getting, "Oh my God! Really!! You didn't even mention that on your blog," which makes me wonder if I should stop communicating with all my friends, or stop writing on the blog.
Clearly, the blog posts are slowing down as Zac is speeding up. He is scooting across the floor on his elbows, dragging his legs behind him. If I had to gauge his speed, I would say it was somewhere between a three-legged dog and turtle, until he sees cat food. My child loves nothing more than putting his whole hand in cat food and scooping up five or six pieces to thrust in his open mouth. I know when he's trying to sneak over to the cat food bowl when he suddenly goes quiet. He's going after cat litter when he shrieks with joy. Lately I've been contemplating fencing him in in the middle of the living room so I can make dinner without wondering which orafice he's going to try to put something.
The big news is that I moved all of the major pieces of furniture this weekend into my new apartment in north H-town. I signed the lease and put down the deposit back in March and somewhere along the way, I neglected to post on here that I was preparing for the big move out on my own. S. and two of his friends, all with pick-up trucks, came over on Saturday to help me move my furniture. Is it odd that not only S., but his two closest friends would have pick-up trucks? I guess it's only odd in places other than Texas.
After four very hot hours, we finished the move and went out to sit in air conditioning and drink beer. I should be more grateful that these large men, who I barely know, came over to help me dissemble my son's crib and carry a very heavy, old dresser.
Things with S. are going....well, they're going. I would say good, except that we had a long conversation last night about "our relationship". I would normally rather chew nails than talk about "our relationship", but a few of the more aggressive people in his life had really been getting under my skin lately: primarily hordes of needy women. Literally, his phone rings off the hook. If he doesn't answer his cell, they'll call his house phone and keep calling until he picks it up. If someone did that to me, I'd answer the phone with a growl and an expletive, if I even answered the phone at all. He doesn't seem to see a problem with this behavior, nor does he seem to see a problem that he and his ex are taking a "break" from friendship (they broke up six months ago).
I'm afraid to care about him. Afraid to get involved with someone that has emotionally shady people in their life and, although I'm inherently trusting, I'm afraid to trust someone. Will I ever fully trust someone again? I feel like the FOB broke me.
P.S. - The lack of comments have really hurt lately. I didn't want people to stop commenting, just to respect that I didn't want my name up here. I LIKE hearing from those who read this piece of myself.
Clearly, the blog posts are slowing down as Zac is speeding up. He is scooting across the floor on his elbows, dragging his legs behind him. If I had to gauge his speed, I would say it was somewhere between a three-legged dog and turtle, until he sees cat food. My child loves nothing more than putting his whole hand in cat food and scooping up five or six pieces to thrust in his open mouth. I know when he's trying to sneak over to the cat food bowl when he suddenly goes quiet. He's going after cat litter when he shrieks with joy. Lately I've been contemplating fencing him in in the middle of the living room so I can make dinner without wondering which orafice he's going to try to put something.
The big news is that I moved all of the major pieces of furniture this weekend into my new apartment in north H-town. I signed the lease and put down the deposit back in March and somewhere along the way, I neglected to post on here that I was preparing for the big move out on my own. S. and two of his friends, all with pick-up trucks, came over on Saturday to help me move my furniture. Is it odd that not only S., but his two closest friends would have pick-up trucks? I guess it's only odd in places other than Texas.
After four very hot hours, we finished the move and went out to sit in air conditioning and drink beer. I should be more grateful that these large men, who I barely know, came over to help me dissemble my son's crib and carry a very heavy, old dresser.
Things with S. are going....well, they're going. I would say good, except that we had a long conversation last night about "our relationship". I would normally rather chew nails than talk about "our relationship", but a few of the more aggressive people in his life had really been getting under my skin lately: primarily hordes of needy women. Literally, his phone rings off the hook. If he doesn't answer his cell, they'll call his house phone and keep calling until he picks it up. If someone did that to me, I'd answer the phone with a growl and an expletive, if I even answered the phone at all. He doesn't seem to see a problem with this behavior, nor does he seem to see a problem that he and his ex are taking a "break" from friendship (they broke up six months ago).
I'm afraid to care about him. Afraid to get involved with someone that has emotionally shady people in their life and, although I'm inherently trusting, I'm afraid to trust someone. Will I ever fully trust someone again? I feel like the FOB broke me.
P.S. - The lack of comments have really hurt lately. I didn't want people to stop commenting, just to respect that I didn't want my name up here. I LIKE hearing from those who read this piece of myself.
Friday, March 24, 2006
3/24
How is it possible that my son and I could both have an ear infection at the same time? Who's idea of a sick joke is this?
Wednesday, March 22, 2006
3/22
Isn't it amazing how everyone in my family gets sick at the same time? Really, someone should do scientific experiments on the genetic makeup of a family that can feeeeel each other get sick, and the feeling actually causes them to get sick.
My sister is sick. My Mom is sick. My child is sick. I am sick. We are all sick together.
The 'rents got home Monday morning from their vacation. It took them 30 years to go on an "official" vacation together and my Mom was sick the whole time and two out of the five Hawaiian islands were flooded out. They even closed Pearl Harbor. I can just imagine my dropping, sopping wet parents standing outside the exhibit at Pearl Harbor, tickets in hand, yelling at the Polynesian guy: "What do you mean the whole harbor is closed?!? It's just a little rain, for Pete's sake! We waited thirty years to get here and I am not going back without seeing this memorial." Then my Mom would start coughing and they would have to leave, wet socks and all.
You can almost guarantee that any major event in a family members' life will be accompanied by a trip to the hospital by another member of the same family. As I said earlier, someone should do experiments on us. We are really amazing. This time, as my parents went off for the "I feel so broke, I want to go home" Beach Boys cruise, Zac went to the ER, followed by a doctor's visit a mere 10 days later. He started out with a runny nose and cough. Then the sneezing started. If you are looking for entertainment, watch an infant sneeze a runny, green booger and then not be able to figure out how to wipe his nose. He just kept licking up the boogers that ran into his mouth and shaking his head, kind of like Hooch shaking off his saliva in the movie, Turner and Hooch. It's all fun and games until you get hit in the head with a stringy booger. Then he started pulling on his ears and the howling all night shortly followed.
Yup, you guessed it. Double ear infection. Next stop, Ear-Nose-and-Throat Doctor for tubes. If it makes him feel better, I'm all for it at this point. There is just no rationalizing with a screaming baby, especially when you can't bribe his with icecream, boobies, or video games. Nothing. He is just miserable. Me being deathly ill didn't help.
Did I mention that between Zac and me, I have no more sick time left? I had to use my Employee of the Month day to take Zac to the Doctor and crawl back into bed with a cold sweat. I'm back at work today, holding on, barely.
My sister is sick. My Mom is sick. My child is sick. I am sick. We are all sick together.
The 'rents got home Monday morning from their vacation. It took them 30 years to go on an "official" vacation together and my Mom was sick the whole time and two out of the five Hawaiian islands were flooded out. They even closed Pearl Harbor. I can just imagine my dropping, sopping wet parents standing outside the exhibit at Pearl Harbor, tickets in hand, yelling at the Polynesian guy: "What do you mean the whole harbor is closed?!? It's just a little rain, for Pete's sake! We waited thirty years to get here and I am not going back without seeing this memorial." Then my Mom would start coughing and they would have to leave, wet socks and all.
You can almost guarantee that any major event in a family members' life will be accompanied by a trip to the hospital by another member of the same family. As I said earlier, someone should do experiments on us. We are really amazing. This time, as my parents went off for the "I feel so broke, I want to go home" Beach Boys cruise, Zac went to the ER, followed by a doctor's visit a mere 10 days later. He started out with a runny nose and cough. Then the sneezing started. If you are looking for entertainment, watch an infant sneeze a runny, green booger and then not be able to figure out how to wipe his nose. He just kept licking up the boogers that ran into his mouth and shaking his head, kind of like Hooch shaking off his saliva in the movie, Turner and Hooch. It's all fun and games until you get hit in the head with a stringy booger. Then he started pulling on his ears and the howling all night shortly followed.
Yup, you guessed it. Double ear infection. Next stop, Ear-Nose-and-Throat Doctor for tubes. If it makes him feel better, I'm all for it at this point. There is just no rationalizing with a screaming baby, especially when you can't bribe his with icecream, boobies, or video games. Nothing. He is just miserable. Me being deathly ill didn't help.
Did I mention that between Zac and me, I have no more sick time left? I had to use my Employee of the Month day to take Zac to the Doctor and crawl back into bed with a cold sweat. I'm back at work today, holding on, barely.
Friday, March 17, 2006
3/17
Oh....what is interesting about a blog is that it captures a particular moment in time, with the rest of life slipping through the cracks. My blog hasn't captured much of anything lately, as I've been living in the gulleys and valleys of life outside of the internet.
BUT, I do have news to tell. Since this blog is dedicated to Zac, I'll share his news first. His first "official" word was "Mama" (no, not David Letterman as some of my friends had planned). He had been babbling "Dadadadadadadada" for about three months now, but I don't count that as his first word because: 1) He doesn't have a dada and 2)He didn't know what he was saying. He said, "Mama" on the floor of our living room, lying on his back with his arms outstretched, crying for attention. Let's just say that it got my attention. I immediately ran over to him and stood over him, not picking him up, until he said it again. Now, I might as well be a salivating dog because it is so much harder to ignore him when he's saying "my" name.
In other Zac news, he is recovering nicely from his third double ear infection in two months. The Doc is threatening that if he has too many more that they're going to put tubes in. I say, bring on the tubes. The poor kid has been miserable, especially with my parents on vacation. With me running around the house, trying to do the dishes, laundry, feed the cats, feed myself, and feed Zac, I don't have enough time to constantly hold him (Yes - M&D, he misses you two).
My first full day of solo parenting came last Sunday. Zac had been diagnosed with the ear infections on Friday (a bon voyage present from my Mom) and had started a new kind of antibiotics. The old antibiotics gave him horrible diarrhea, and he's still trying to gain weight from the whole rotavirus thing. Did I mention that I'd being willing to cut off a finger to keep this kid healthy? If not my fingers, than certainly someone else's. Nevertheless, I woke up Sunday and Zac had a rash on his forehead. Upon further inspection, I saw that the rash was all over his chest, back, and legs. I kept thinking, "Oh no, he has a rash. I need to make sure that he gets his medicine to fight the rash." It never even occured to me that the medicine might have given him the rash. About an hour later, Z and I were in the ER for the third time in eight months. This time they were at least polite enough to hide their excitement when I flashed my new health insurance card.
Four hours, two doses of Benadryl, and one new prescription for an antibiotic later, Zac and I were back at home. He slept most of the day and I decided to follow suit on the couch (Ahh...blessed naps). My son and I are so good at sleeping together, it's a little scary. I woke up this morning with his back to my chest, cuddled up like a little pea pod inside the pea. Unbelievably cute, even at 6:30am.
In other news, I met a guy two weeks ago at a local bar and have been hanging out with him. We've had a good time together, even if he is younger than me by two years. Five years ago he was in high school. Five years ago I was in England drinking warm beer and riding my bicycle on the left hand side of the street (although those two events never occured at the same time).
For the folks at home keeping score of my love life, this one is much better than the FOB. The guy I'll call, "Scout" is a supervisor at his job, has his own apartment, makes regular payments on his truck, and has what he likes to refer to as, "excellent credit". I'm not really sure why he told me about his credit, especially considering the fact that I wasn't planning on making a loan in the near future. It's nice to know that if I do need a line of credit, I can use his body as collateral. His most redeeming feature, besides being handsome and a good listener, is that he seems to be really into me. Surprising, if not shocking. I'm not that into me and I have to hang out with me all the time. Really, I'm sick of me, but me just won't leave me alone.
Sigh.
For the record, I haven't achieved "Sex in 06" yet. I'll keep you all informed.
BUT, I do have news to tell. Since this blog is dedicated to Zac, I'll share his news first. His first "official" word was "Mama" (no, not David Letterman as some of my friends had planned). He had been babbling "Dadadadadadadada" for about three months now, but I don't count that as his first word because: 1) He doesn't have a dada and 2)He didn't know what he was saying. He said, "Mama" on the floor of our living room, lying on his back with his arms outstretched, crying for attention. Let's just say that it got my attention. I immediately ran over to him and stood over him, not picking him up, until he said it again. Now, I might as well be a salivating dog because it is so much harder to ignore him when he's saying "my" name.
In other Zac news, he is recovering nicely from his third double ear infection in two months. The Doc is threatening that if he has too many more that they're going to put tubes in. I say, bring on the tubes. The poor kid has been miserable, especially with my parents on vacation. With me running around the house, trying to do the dishes, laundry, feed the cats, feed myself, and feed Zac, I don't have enough time to constantly hold him (Yes - M&D, he misses you two).
My first full day of solo parenting came last Sunday. Zac had been diagnosed with the ear infections on Friday (a bon voyage present from my Mom) and had started a new kind of antibiotics. The old antibiotics gave him horrible diarrhea, and he's still trying to gain weight from the whole rotavirus thing. Did I mention that I'd being willing to cut off a finger to keep this kid healthy? If not my fingers, than certainly someone else's. Nevertheless, I woke up Sunday and Zac had a rash on his forehead. Upon further inspection, I saw that the rash was all over his chest, back, and legs. I kept thinking, "Oh no, he has a rash. I need to make sure that he gets his medicine to fight the rash." It never even occured to me that the medicine might have given him the rash. About an hour later, Z and I were in the ER for the third time in eight months. This time they were at least polite enough to hide their excitement when I flashed my new health insurance card.
Four hours, two doses of Benadryl, and one new prescription for an antibiotic later, Zac and I were back at home. He slept most of the day and I decided to follow suit on the couch (Ahh...blessed naps). My son and I are so good at sleeping together, it's a little scary. I woke up this morning with his back to my chest, cuddled up like a little pea pod inside the pea. Unbelievably cute, even at 6:30am.
In other news, I met a guy two weeks ago at a local bar and have been hanging out with him. We've had a good time together, even if he is younger than me by two years. Five years ago he was in high school. Five years ago I was in England drinking warm beer and riding my bicycle on the left hand side of the street (although those two events never occured at the same time).
For the folks at home keeping score of my love life, this one is much better than the FOB. The guy I'll call, "Scout" is a supervisor at his job, has his own apartment, makes regular payments on his truck, and has what he likes to refer to as, "excellent credit". I'm not really sure why he told me about his credit, especially considering the fact that I wasn't planning on making a loan in the near future. It's nice to know that if I do need a line of credit, I can use his body as collateral. His most redeeming feature, besides being handsome and a good listener, is that he seems to be really into me. Surprising, if not shocking. I'm not that into me and I have to hang out with me all the time. Really, I'm sick of me, but me just won't leave me alone.
Sigh.
For the record, I haven't achieved "Sex in 06" yet. I'll keep you all informed.
Wednesday, March 01, 2006
3/1
I've been remiss on my posting of Zac pictures. Here is a fairly recent one, before he started spewing vomit and diarrhea (that is spit up on his collar - totally different). He is so shockingly good looking. I'm not sure what I imagined would come out of an incision in my uterus, but I never imagined that it could model for baby Gap one day.
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