7/27-2

This is just my biased opinion that my son is really, unbelievably cute.

The working title of this video is, "The reason why we wash our hands and why NSP keeps getting sick" Hope you enjoy:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UM1PHZ1C4Cc

I tried to embed the video in this post, but blogspot won't recognize the entire html. Do any techies out there know what I need to do to make it work?

7/27

Someday, I know that I will be writing posts about how hard it is now that Zac doesn't need me to wipe his butt or calm his fears. Someday, I will reminisce about how much I miss hearing his cries as I walk out of the room or see his cute face dissolve into a teary, oh-so-relieved smile when he sees me again. Someday, he will walk on his own, talk on his own, poop on his own, and maybe even have kids of his own.

That day is not today.

I love my son. That much should be obvious by the acres of archives that I'm starting to build on this site. No amount of love, though, can make up for the fact that I miss going pee by myself. I miss closing the door without hearing him scream like I just cut off his left hand. I miss gallivanting from home from the grocery store without strategically planning how I'm going to get the groceries in the apartment while still being attached at the hip to a one year-old. Occasionally, mommy needs two hands. Hell, occasionally mommy needs five hands, eight feet, and two heads. Maybe then I could finally get my living room vacuumed or take the load out of the washing machine. Maybe I could watch a full episode of "So You Think You Can Dance?" without wondering what song the people are dancing to.

My self-pity culminated yesterday evening when Zac and I were asked to leave our Weight Watchers meeting. How can you be asked to leave a place whose slogan is, "Come Join!"? WTF. The irony was driven even further home because the visiting instructor's 'message' for the evening was group support. She even drew the stupid flying-V on the white board and retold the lame Canadian geese metaphor. We get it. We're stronger as a team, supporting each other, achieving our weight loss goals. "Gooooo TEAM!" and all of that. I guess single Moms that can't leave their teething kids at home won't get picked for that team.

Where I am supposed to go for support? I pay the same $10 a week that every other person in that room paid to be told that I'm a success. I don't care if you have to scream over my child to make yourself heard. Welcome to my world. Do you have any idea how crazy I get after listening to him scream (in this order): at his toys, at me, at the cell phone I'm trying to have an adult conversation on, at me again, and then crumple onto the rug in a wet heap of screaming toddler? Let me tell you. It's pretty crazy. Maybe a couple of my five arms and eight legs could stay home with him while the other appendages try to lose weight.

7/26

It's one big lovefest over here at my current job. I gave my 'official' notice to my boss, and my boss' boss, and my boss' boss' boss. Resignation letters were floating in the wind like ragweed this morning. Even though I had given my supervisors 'unofficial' warning last week, they still seemed surprised that I actually followed through with it.

One of the most surprising parts of this whole experience, on my end, was the fact that my supervisors knew that they wouldn't be keeping me for very long. According to them, they knew that they couldn't adequately compensate me for my talent and work ethic, and they knew that I would be able to find better work for more compensation elsewhere. As my boss put it, though, he was just hoping that I wouldn't figure that out as fast as I did!

It's nice to be liked and to have my work appreciated, it's just, well - did they need to wait until I was leaving to tell me this? Maybe I would have stayed if they had given me the ability to telecommute a couple days a week instead of the 'Employee of the Month' award. I might have traded some extra income for more respect, or at least a little less disrespect. It seemed like every third day or so someone was telling me that I should expect X, or I couldn't do Y and Z because I wasn't a "Director-level position". Well, this non-director is leaving, which is making a lot of overworked directors very nervous.

7/24

Big news over here in the Not-so-Pregnant, hopefully Not-so-Poor household:

I got a new job!

A scary, good, exciting development.

The new position is at an organization that provides legal representation for victims of domestic violence. It is the same, exact job title, but with the possibility of expanding into a Director of Development position (for those of you that have any idea what that is) within the first year. It is also a substantial pay increase, which couldn't come too soon.

I'm starting in late August, giving my current job three weeks notice and then taking a week vacation. I'm not really sure what I'm going to do with a week of not working, except maybe lay on my couch a lot and watch TLC.

I'm scared that I may be suffering from "the grass is always greener on the other side" problem, but as P. pointed out to me today, in this case, even if the grass isn't greener, some more money will help fertilize the pasture. I hate that everything boils down to money. I worked for the Peace Corps for 18 months and made next to nothing. Now that I have a child, I'm realizing more and more that I can't pay the rent with my belief in a cause and I can't feed Zac with righteous indignation. Trust me. I've tried.

7/23

There are two things that are cemented in my mind after this weekend: 1) My son really, really likes to be naked, especially while suffering from a heinous diaper rash and 2) I would drink much more if I lived with all the members of my immediate and extended family. The second statement is, I'm sure, a shared sentiment among other members of my family, especially when coupled with the first one.

The weekend started out with me getting sick on Thursday and my Grandma (my Mom's Mom) coming in from Seattle on Friday. The sickness has lasted all weekend and is finally starting to wane, just in time for the new week to start. Sucks. Still sucks, even though I said that back on Thursday.

I came down to my parents' house on Friday after work and realized that I managed to leave the digital camcorder at my apartment. When I woke up the second time on Saturday morning (the first being followed by a two hour nap on the couch), I drove Zac and I up to my place to grab some items I had forgotten. The 45 minute one-way journey was to give my parents and Grandma some time to clean up the house before guests arrived without a shrieking one-year old underfoot.

On the way out of my apartment complex, I was backing up out of my parking spot and realized that the strap on Zac's carseat had fallen off his shoulder. Like a good Mom, I reached back to adjust it. Like an idiot, I didn't stop the car first and continued to back up. I heard a loud smack, which signaled that my passenger's side mirror was no longer attached to the side of the car it was supposed to be attached to. It lay dangling by two electrical wires off the car door.

Zac didn't even notice. He smiled and ate another cracker, with both carseat straps firmly on his shoulders.

I started to cry. Not because I was hurt or even that I'm a complete idiot, but because I can barely pay all my bills as it is right now.

I can't afford to fix the giant crack in my windshield - that went from a ding to the Grand Canyon of windshield cracks in three days. I definitely can't afford to fix the mirror (electric, no less!). My gas tank is permanently on full because the floater is stuck inside the tank (which has a great side effect of eliminating any need to worry about whether I have enough gas to make it to any destination. No worries! I always have gas now! It's always FULL!!!). Add to that the fact that no matter how many pairs of pajamas I buy my kid, he always outgrows them faster than I can keep up. I'm seriously considering just putting him to bed naked until he hits puberty.

I don't have an answer for what I should do. There aren't enough hours in the day for me to make enough money to cover everything that I need to cover. I can tell you what I did do, though. I ate cake. Lots and lots of cake, but not as much as this guy:

Followed by some naked time, with a bow on his head:

Capped off with some Harely riding, one-year old style:

All and all, I would say that this big boy had a good birthday. Love you, Zac.

7/21-2

Well, it's now almost 10am CST and I'm feeling only marginally better. Really, I want to curl up and go back to sleep. Unfortunately, sleeping so much during the day yesterday caused me to be awake until 1am this morning. Lucky for me, the person I've been talking to recently works nights, so I was able to IM with him into the wee hours until I fell into a Nyquil-induced coma.

So, I wrote once before about J. - the off-shore diver that I might have a date with in August. He is still off the Gulf of Mexico, although I got two pieces of information wrong the first time around: 1) He doesn't pillage the Gulf for oil, as I first thought. His crew repairs broken oil lines, which are currently spewing hundreds of thousands of gallons of oil into the ocean and 2)He doesn't actually dive anymore, unless he wants to. He plans and supervises the dives.

He was in port recently in LA and I was able to talk to him on the phone. Our conversations quickly stretched into one hour and then two. Now that he is back at sea (jeez, it sounds like he's a freakin' sailor!), we can only e-mail and IM. I found out that he went to highschool near Seattle, WA (about twenty miles north of where I grew up) and went to college in CA.

Now, here is the crazy part: What are the chances that two people that grew up close together, would be living in an entirely different state, meet on the internet, and end up liking each other? I'm not saying it's fate, but it might be. Who am I to spit in the wind, just to see if it will come back and hit me in the face? Right now, I kind of feel like the Meg Ryan character in "Sleepless in Seattle," which she of course reprised in, "You've Got Mail". It's crazy to like someone that you've never met. I know that and he knows that. Doesn't change anything, though.

Fortunately, I've had enough experience with internet dating to know that you can never get your hopes up. Someone can be amazing over the phone and a complete jerk in person (see Blind Date #1). Someone can seem cool and then you find out that their favorite band is Enya, or even worse Meatloaf (see Blind Dates #4 and #5). And some guys will say and do anything to get laid, knowing full well that they aren't interested in a relationship with you. I haven't been swept off my feet yet. It will take at least a first and second date for that.

7/21

Sick.

Sicksicksicksicksicksicksick.

I hate being sick.

No one told me that motherhood would induce sickness at every opportunity.

No one told me that my beloved child would breed germs that cause me to get sick all the time. Him, I knew about. Me? Not so much.

I'm currently sitting here on my couch, at 12:10am, wishing to God I could go to sleep. Wishing I could blog about something other than how miserable I feel.

Nyquil. Oh my beloved nyquil. Please escort me to your blissful unconscious land.

Please

I'm begging you.