Ear tubes were successfully inserted this morning into Mr. Zachary's ears. He made life a little miserable for the adults this morning at 1:30am and 4am, but I would probably be miserable too if I hadn't eaten in six hours.
He is happily playing on the rug right now, crawling after my Mom.
Monday, April 24, 2006
Friday, April 21, 2006
4-21
If you've been reading this blog for a while, you know that I have some...well...self esteem issues. When I was pregnant, I would readily call myself a giant whale with a large fetus inside my swollen uterus, supported by 2 x4s that used to be ankles. Now that I'm not pregnant, and the Z man is healthy and happy, I try to be kinder to my body. I mean, it created life. I don't want to take that for granted. I know that I will never have perky breasts (I never did to begin with) and I know that the stretch marks over 75% over my body won't go away anytime soon, or really ever.
On most days, I'm ok with that. As I'm getting older, I'm getting more comfortable with myself: my sarcasm, humor, bluntness, and ability to love those that are important to me. Conversely, as I'm getting older, I'm getting more and more uncomfortable with my weight. Everyone told me that I if it took nine months to get that big, then it would take nine months to take the weight off. Well, it's been nine months and I'm not back into my pre-pregnancy clothes, most of which I don't even own anymore because I had to buy new clothes to wear to work.
I also saw this picture, which made me cringe.
This was taken last weekend when Ms. 110% and Melissa were in town for a wedding. Now, I get it, I have really skinny, feminine friends that anyone would look big in comparison. HOWEVER, I am not comfortable being this weight. I'm afraid to look in the mirror before I get in the shower and I'll step into my bedroom to avoid catching a glimpse at myself while putting on lotion.
I fantasize about having this surgery and losing 60 pounds, although since I'm not 100 pounds overweight, I don't qualify. I probably don't have to tell you that there are dark days where I've thought that since I'm so good at gaining weight, I could easily gain 30 or 40 more pounds and have my health insurance cover the surgery. Then I get real. I don't want to do that.
I do want to take steps to get control over my eating habits and my weight. I joined the cult also known as Weight Watchers. I've been to two meetings, with Zac babbling at the top of his little lungs during the second. I've started counting points and I've lost 1.8 lbs so far. It's a start.
I've never wanted to turn this blog into a "weight loss" blog because people complaining about their weight is only interesting for so long, which isn't very long at all. I'm sharing this part of myself with you all, though, because I'm asking for your support along this journey. Now, pardon me, while I go shred some carrots for today's lunch.
On most days, I'm ok with that. As I'm getting older, I'm getting more comfortable with myself: my sarcasm, humor, bluntness, and ability to love those that are important to me. Conversely, as I'm getting older, I'm getting more and more uncomfortable with my weight. Everyone told me that I if it took nine months to get that big, then it would take nine months to take the weight off. Well, it's been nine months and I'm not back into my pre-pregnancy clothes, most of which I don't even own anymore because I had to buy new clothes to wear to work.
I also saw this picture, which made me cringe.
This was taken last weekend when Ms. 110% and Melissa were in town for a wedding. Now, I get it, I have really skinny, feminine friends that anyone would look big in comparison. HOWEVER, I am not comfortable being this weight. I'm afraid to look in the mirror before I get in the shower and I'll step into my bedroom to avoid catching a glimpse at myself while putting on lotion.
I fantasize about having this surgery and losing 60 pounds, although since I'm not 100 pounds overweight, I don't qualify. I probably don't have to tell you that there are dark days where I've thought that since I'm so good at gaining weight, I could easily gain 30 or 40 more pounds and have my health insurance cover the surgery. Then I get real. I don't want to do that.
I do want to take steps to get control over my eating habits and my weight. I joined the cult also known as Weight Watchers. I've been to two meetings, with Zac babbling at the top of his little lungs during the second. I've started counting points and I've lost 1.8 lbs so far. It's a start.
I've never wanted to turn this blog into a "weight loss" blog because people complaining about their weight is only interesting for so long, which isn't very long at all. I'm sharing this part of myself with you all, though, because I'm asking for your support along this journey. Now, pardon me, while I go shred some carrots for today's lunch.
Thursday, April 20, 2006
4-20
I haven't gone A-WOL, I'm just tired. Tired of being tired. Tired of the stress. Tired of trying to do everything right and in the end doing nothing right. Tired of going to the g-d grocery store eight times in the past week because I've forgotten a light bulb four times, even though I had a list, which I forgot in the car. I'm tired of forgetting things.
Today, well today I dropped my son off at daycare without his diaper bag. He got a lukewarm yogurt, a bottle with some formula, and last night's pjs in case he pees on himself. That is what I dropped him off with this morning. That is what he gets to sustain him for the next ten hours (edited to reflect that while I may be a crappy mother with a huge guilt complex, I'm not CPS-worthy. The daycare facility is on a low-income, food program, which means that they provide baby food and formula.)
I got to work late, after stressing in the car. I will have to leave work late, at 6pm, and pray that I can get over to the really expensive-far away-but at least nice and safe daycare facility before they close at 6:30pm.
No amount of caffeine or blogging is going to make today much better.
Today, well today I dropped my son off at daycare without his diaper bag. He got a lukewarm yogurt, a bottle with some formula, and last night's pjs in case he pees on himself. That is what I dropped him off with this morning. That is what he gets to sustain him for the next ten hours (edited to reflect that while I may be a crappy mother with a huge guilt complex, I'm not CPS-worthy. The daycare facility is on a low-income, food program, which means that they provide baby food and formula.)
I got to work late, after stressing in the car. I will have to leave work late, at 6pm, and pray that I can get over to the really expensive-far away-but at least nice and safe daycare facility before they close at 6:30pm.
No amount of caffeine or blogging is going to make today much better.
Sunday, April 16, 2006
4-16
In honor of Easter, I'm trying out some new technology of another of Jesus' major milestones. Let me know if everyone can play this in a continuous stream, or if it buffers every few seconds. If it doesn't work, I'll try and find another free website to download video.
This is Zac playing in wrapping paper on Christmas morning, with Grandpa in the background talking to him.
This is Zac playing in wrapping paper on Christmas morning, with Grandpa in the background talking to him.
Friday, April 14, 2006
4/14
I gave Flickr some love today and found an easy way to post pictures to my blog. Some folks had asked me for a picture/more information about S. so I stole a couple pictures from his myspace website. He works as a warehouse manager in the east Houston area. That might not sound too exciting, or down right boring to those not interested in warehousing, but I was excited when he first told me what he did. You see, I work in a warehouse. My office looks over the product recovery area, where salvaged food product come down the conveyor belts and are sorted into categories by volunteers, who may or may not be Texas Department of Criminal Justice Inmates. Let me tell you, nothing says, "Monday morning" like watching a group of thirty inmates tackle 20 pallets of salvaged food. The program with the TDCJ guys is really amazing; they volunteer to come here and earn a warehouseman certificate so they can get a job when they are released. Usually my organization hires them, at least temporarily.
Anyways, S. and I talk about warehousing quite a bit. Sometimes he forgets that I know more about pallet jacks, fork lifts, and dry storage than the average 25 year-old woman. I occasionally have to remind him that my warehouse has a bigger distribution dock than his warehouse and I'll get into a pissing contest with him if that will help solidify my credibility as being "down with warehousing". It's nice that he has some concept of some of the programs I'm trying to fund in our warehouse and for our agencies.
Onto Myspace, however....I think that other bloggers share similar feelings as I do - when people ask if I'm on Friendster or Myspace. I'm like, "No. I've already got one website. How many more do I need?" Of course if I was really serious about blogging, I would set up my own domain name and go to town, but I'm not ready for that kind of commitment yet. I do regret choosing a url that focused on being pregnant, especially since I'm not pregnant now. Not a whole lot that I can do about it now, however.
Friendster is something that, sooner or later, I might just have to join. It seems like EVERYONE I know has a Friendster page and they're always asking me to set one up, or join their Friendster network, and marvel in the connections between people that know other people that possible know people that I know. That's too much knowing in my book. I'm a bit reclusive if you haven't noticed. I like being annonymous on here and I like that if I ever got tired of publishing my random thoughts, I could quit. I already have too much guilt without having to worry about messing up anyone's network.
Edited: Forgot to give you all the update that I have another infection in my throat/ear and am back on a course of antibiotics. Also got on the Pill yesterday that is supposed give you one period every three months, "like that changing of the season"(!) I was worried that it was going to be more expensive than the regular Pill, but it was covered my insurance and cost $50 for three months. Hell, I'd pay $50 to not get my period every month. With the amount of cramping I have right now, I'd pay $50 for someone to take out my uterus once a month and put it back in with the whole, shedding-of-the-uterine lining thing was finished.
I did appreciate when the pharmicist kindly told me that taking antibiotics and birth control at the same time would decrease the effectiveness of my birth control. I looked at Zac, who sat in his stroller, chewing on my cell phone, and throwing Cheerios on the ground (he can multi-task!!). I smiled. I told the pharmicist that she was about eighteen months too late for that warning and walked out into the beautiful Texas afternoon.
Anyways, S. and I talk about warehousing quite a bit. Sometimes he forgets that I know more about pallet jacks, fork lifts, and dry storage than the average 25 year-old woman. I occasionally have to remind him that my warehouse has a bigger distribution dock than his warehouse and I'll get into a pissing contest with him if that will help solidify my credibility as being "down with warehousing". It's nice that he has some concept of some of the programs I'm trying to fund in our warehouse and for our agencies.
Onto Myspace, however....I think that other bloggers share similar feelings as I do - when people ask if I'm on Friendster or Myspace. I'm like, "No. I've already got one website. How many more do I need?" Of course if I was really serious about blogging, I would set up my own domain name and go to town, but I'm not ready for that kind of commitment yet. I do regret choosing a url that focused on being pregnant, especially since I'm not pregnant now. Not a whole lot that I can do about it now, however.
Friendster is something that, sooner or later, I might just have to join. It seems like EVERYONE I know has a Friendster page and they're always asking me to set one up, or join their Friendster network, and marvel in the connections between people that know other people that possible know people that I know. That's too much knowing in my book. I'm a bit reclusive if you haven't noticed. I like being annonymous on here and I like that if I ever got tired of publishing my random thoughts, I could quit. I already have too much guilt without having to worry about messing up anyone's network.
Edited: Forgot to give you all the update that I have another infection in my throat/ear and am back on a course of antibiotics. Also got on the Pill yesterday that is supposed give you one period every three months, "like that changing of the season"(!) I was worried that it was going to be more expensive than the regular Pill, but it was covered my insurance and cost $50 for three months. Hell, I'd pay $50 to not get my period every month. With the amount of cramping I have right now, I'd pay $50 for someone to take out my uterus once a month and put it back in with the whole, shedding-of-the-uterine lining thing was finished.
I did appreciate when the pharmicist kindly told me that taking antibiotics and birth control at the same time would decrease the effectiveness of my birth control. I looked at Zac, who sat in his stroller, chewing on my cell phone, and throwing Cheerios on the ground (he can multi-task!!). I smiled. I told the pharmicist that she was about eighteen months too late for that warning and walked out into the beautiful Texas afternoon.
Thursday, April 13, 2006
4/13
I'm so tired that I'm sitting here at my computer, willing my eyes to stay open. I only got about five hours of sleep, filled with sexually graphic, inappropriate, upsetting dreams.
S. came over last night for the first time since he helped me move in two weekends ago. I assembled my dining room chairs in honor of his visit. I only have one living room chair, two dining room chairs, and tv sitting on the floor in my apartment. Zac's chair (a rolling highchair) is one of the nicest in the place. His chair rolls around with me from room to room, which delights him to no end.
Last night, after work, Z. and I were in the kitchen, just waiting for S. to arrive, and I reached into the pantry for a rice cake. I pulled out a package that I had opened yesterday and took a bite. When I set it down on the counter, I realized that the entire package of rice cakes were crawling with ants. I immediately spit out the piece of rice cake that I had in my mouth and rinsed with water. I looked in the pantry and saw ants (the small, brown kind - not the fire ant kind, which would have been a travesty in the making if I had eaten those) crawling throughout my pantry. Ants disgust me. They are by far my least favorite insect, ranking somewhere between spiders and cockroaches. Damn I hate ants. I hate that where there is one, there are two hundred.
S. finally got to my place and we cook shrimp gumbo together, I bathed Zac, and we all watched "Lost". All and all a good evening until about an hour later we heard a car alarm. I jokingly asked if it was his car alarm going off. He listens for a moment and says, "I don't know. It sounds like mine, but then again, a lot of car alarms sound like that." We talked and kissed some more and around 11:30pm he goes to leave. He has his car keys and leftover gumbo in hand and walks out the door. Z. is screaming because he accidentally scratched himself in his sleep and can't figure out how to go back to sleep. I'm holding him, trying to get him to take a little bottle when S. knocks on my door. He said his car had been stolen. It is gone.
Even at 11:30pm, I managed to string together enough coherent thoughts to know that we should call HPD Towing before we called the Houston Police. Sure, enough. His truck had been towed about an hour earlier. S. was fuming, but had to quickly calm down when I thrust Z. in his arms and asked if he could feed him his bottle while I went upstairs to put some clothes on. Z, S, and I all pile into my small Saturn and drive to the impound lot. $185.89 later, S. got his truck back. I finally got back into bed around 1am, exhausted. Zac woke up two more times in the night. This alarm went off this morning way, way too early.
S. came over last night for the first time since he helped me move in two weekends ago. I assembled my dining room chairs in honor of his visit. I only have one living room chair, two dining room chairs, and tv sitting on the floor in my apartment. Zac's chair (a rolling highchair) is one of the nicest in the place. His chair rolls around with me from room to room, which delights him to no end.
Last night, after work, Z. and I were in the kitchen, just waiting for S. to arrive, and I reached into the pantry for a rice cake. I pulled out a package that I had opened yesterday and took a bite. When I set it down on the counter, I realized that the entire package of rice cakes were crawling with ants. I immediately spit out the piece of rice cake that I had in my mouth and rinsed with water. I looked in the pantry and saw ants (the small, brown kind - not the fire ant kind, which would have been a travesty in the making if I had eaten those) crawling throughout my pantry. Ants disgust me. They are by far my least favorite insect, ranking somewhere between spiders and cockroaches. Damn I hate ants. I hate that where there is one, there are two hundred.
S. finally got to my place and we cook shrimp gumbo together, I bathed Zac, and we all watched "Lost". All and all a good evening until about an hour later we heard a car alarm. I jokingly asked if it was his car alarm going off. He listens for a moment and says, "I don't know. It sounds like mine, but then again, a lot of car alarms sound like that." We talked and kissed some more and around 11:30pm he goes to leave. He has his car keys and leftover gumbo in hand and walks out the door. Z. is screaming because he accidentally scratched himself in his sleep and can't figure out how to go back to sleep. I'm holding him, trying to get him to take a little bottle when S. knocks on my door. He said his car had been stolen. It is gone.
Even at 11:30pm, I managed to string together enough coherent thoughts to know that we should call HPD Towing before we called the Houston Police. Sure, enough. His truck had been towed about an hour earlier. S. was fuming, but had to quickly calm down when I thrust Z. in his arms and asked if he could feed him his bottle while I went upstairs to put some clothes on. Z, S, and I all pile into my small Saturn and drive to the impound lot. $185.89 later, S. got his truck back. I finally got back into bed around 1am, exhausted. Zac woke up two more times in the night. This alarm went off this morning way, way too early.
Wednesday, April 12, 2006
4/12
Scary, scary times I tell you. I just shared this blog with S. It's crazy to me that although I put out this blog out there for anyone to read that might stumble upon it (or those that I have harassed enough to read on a regular basis), that I still might be nervous to share this part of me with someone that knows me in "real life". I don't really know what "real life" is, except that it has something to do with farting in my sleep, uterine cramps at my office computer, and possibly seeing me naked.
My uterus is out to get me. I think it's still mad from that whole, 9-pound child thing. I've been having bleeding mid-month lately. This can only mean one thing if I go to the doctor, time for the Pill. The Pill and I have been friends since I was thirteen - WAY before I was sexually active and needed a form of birth control (98% effective, my ass. Or should I say MY CHILD!). There is just something upsetting about needed to be hormonally regulated, especially when I'm already regulated in so many other ways. I'm hyper regulated. If it wasn't so annoying to be constantly bleeding, I would say, "Screw it. Hormones be damned," but then there is that whole, "Sex in 06" thing and even though I got pregnant on the Pill, it would be nice to be on it again to make extra, extra sure that it doesn't happen again anytime in the near, semi-near, or in the same ballpark as near, future.
My uterus is out to get me. I think it's still mad from that whole, 9-pound child thing. I've been having bleeding mid-month lately. This can only mean one thing if I go to the doctor, time for the Pill. The Pill and I have been friends since I was thirteen - WAY before I was sexually active and needed a form of birth control (98% effective, my ass. Or should I say MY CHILD!). There is just something upsetting about needed to be hormonally regulated, especially when I'm already regulated in so many other ways. I'm hyper regulated. If it wasn't so annoying to be constantly bleeding, I would say, "Screw it. Hormones be damned," but then there is that whole, "Sex in 06" thing and even though I got pregnant on the Pill, it would be nice to be on it again to make extra, extra sure that it doesn't happen again anytime in the near, semi-near, or in the same ballpark as near, future.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
