I'm mid-way through my 2nd week as "working mom," and it officially still sucks. But whatchagonnado, right? It doesn't help that I've been battling some weird cold/flu illness thing which makes me feel extra icky. I keep saying to Sean, "I just want things be normal again..." but then I realize that there's No. Such. Thing.
My idea of normal has disappeared forever. *sniff
I need to accept my "new" normal of slinging breakfast around a messy kitchen with one shoe on, one shoe off, my car running in the driveway while I rush upstairs to change a dirty diaper, holding a banana in my teeth while juggling hot coffee and 2 bags all while I secure the car seat...
If my Old Self were to pay a surprise visit to my New Self she'd say, "WHAT THE fffffuUUUUUddddge is going on here, you crazy loon!? Get your sh*T together, girl. This is no way to start the morning! Where are your organization skills?"
Um, they're gone.
Now that we have this new miniature roommate who needs us for EVERYTHING, there will always be something to deal with, so I better just learn how to deal. (easier said than done.) And that's what I'm tryin' to do here.
The good news is that Wesser decided to start sleeping 12 hours straight through for the past few nights, and he's been going down peacefully. Hooray for my little champ! I appreciate that he's not fighting us on bedtime now, and I also appreciate the extra long stretch of sleep.
I'm trying to ignore the fact that I feel like a complete and total failure as a woman/employee/mom/wife/person. Instead, I'm attempting to celebrate my small victories and put less focus on what I failed to accomplish. So, today's victories are 1) I came to work half sick (even though I felt crappy) and 2) paid a medical bill. Kudos to me!
And I've decided to forgive myself for having hairy legs (sorry, Sean!). Let's pretend like I've converted into Super Earthy Granola Lady who believes that leg hair on women is natural and okay. (It is not, by the way.) The truth is that there's just no time to properly address my Teen Wolf legs. Maybe one day...
Work is nuts and chaotic and it makes me feel really uncomfortable to be so out of control...I'm very under-qualified, which leaves me feeling nothing but old fashioned STUPID. But I'm sitting with it. I'm coaching myself through each day and saying, "Just be okay with this." I'm trying to change out the track in my head to a more positive tone.
Don't know if it's working or not...
Thursday, January 10, 2013
Friday, December 28, 2012
Going back.
It's the first time I've seen this building in over 2 months. My office building resembles a maximum security prison, cold and gray. The weather is cold and gray, too. Fitting...
The large parking lot is more than half empty since it's the day after Christmas. No one wants to be here, and neither do I. I've been on maternity leave for 12 weeks and 2 days. It feels very surreal making the long walk up to the revolving doors, and yet, at the same time it's all very familiar. Just like riding a bike as they say.
Going back to an old routine is very strange...especially when you don't want to do it. I know every crack in this walkway. I've been staring at this pavement for the past 6 years as I traipse in and out of the building.
I don't mean to overdramatize the act of going back to work. Okay, yes I do...I've thought about this day since before he was born. I thought about it 100 times a day, and each time it made me sick to my stomach. What am I doing? Is this the right decision? Because it sure doesn't FEEL like the right decision. Can't there be another way? Ah, but there isn't...at least not for now. I want to stay with him, but I also want to contribute to our family's success. More specifically, for our future success - savings, college funds, vacations, retirement, etc.
So, I keep walking towards the gloomy building.
Three months with my brand new precious baby felt like a lifetime. The longest 3 months of my life. The days were super long, and more often than not they were super hard. I remember the early days when he was just days old and very tiny and frail...I'd be crying my eyes out because he was crying his eyes out, and I didn't know how to help him. Caring for my little man seemed to get easier with each passing day. But then again, I think it wasn't getting easier...I was more used to it. I learned what to expect and learned how to manage our day.
I learned that the book said the babies would nap for an hour or 2, but he will only nap for 30 minutes. I learned that he enjoys watching me say "La La La" and "Ma Ma Ma" but he does NOT enjoy when I sneeze loudly. I learned that he'll watch anything on TV even if the screen is solid black. He uses his right arm for everything, and left arm is only good for thumb sucking. He doesn't enjoy the morning routine of sucking snot out of his nose. His dad can always get him to give us a giant toothless smile. I memorized his face while I held him and I see it every time I close my eyes.
The elevator smells funny - like biscuits and cigarettes and cologne. As the doors open to the 5th floor I feel like I'm walking into an alternate reality. I pull my gym bag and breast pump behind me as I walk down the hallway, past the giant rolls of bubble wrap and the walls lined with filing cabinets. Hardly a soul is in attendance, and I'm thankful for that. I don't much feel like interacting with anyone.
I sit down at my desk and stare at 2 blank screens. I stay this way for the entire day since I've forgotten all my passwords and no one is here to re-set them. I stare at my plant Kate and the 2 new garden gnomes that someone put here while I was away. One of the gnomes is missing a hand.
I walk around the office a couple of times to stretch my legs and I see a few familiar faces, but most of these folks are strangers. A lot has changed around here since I've been gone, and I'm a bit nervous about my new role and my new boss.
I realize that not many people recognize me, but I walk around with my head held high because I'm an old timer here. I know this place. A few work friends greet me with giant hugs. They ask about the baby. "He's doing really well," I say as I smile and nod my head. I'm mostly just trying to reassure myself. The truth is that I don't really know how he's doing. I made up a song when he was newborn, and it was this: "You're not the best baby in the world, but you're not the worst baby in the world either." I think those lyrics still apply. The baby is a baby. He's sweet most of the time, he poos, he cries, he fights sleep, he wakes up once a night, and I'm tired. There you have it.
But I don't say any of those things because no one really gives a shit.
I go down to the gym during my lunch break and punch the punching bag. Punch, punch, punch...over and over again. I can't seem to hit it hard enough. My biceps burn, but it's not enough. I pick up a set of 5 pound weights and get back to punching.
As the day goes on, I see a glimpse of my former working self...the self that sold more than anyone on my team last year and closed the 2 biggest conversion deals that the company saw in months. (There's only 2 other people on my team, so it's not that big of a deal). I find myself talking about account strategies and using silly acronyms and dropping terms like "app" and "platform" and "sales funnel." Gross. Gag me.
But, apparently I'm good at it. I reckon I have all these people fooled. I'm walking around wearing black slacks and a white blouse with jewelry and heels. I must look like I have it all together - the working mom with the happy baby. But in reality I'm crying silently at my desk and crying while I pump.
Pumping at work is a humiliating feeling. I feel ashamed as I quietly lift my shirt and unhook my giant bra. These utters are disgustingly large. I think for a moment about lifting each one and resting them on the table, but I don't. The mini blinds are closed as tightly as possible (I checked them 3 times), but I still feel exposed. I sit in a small conference room next to our application developer's office. His last name is Lovely, but this is not lovely at all. The conference room is small and plain. Beige carpet and beige walls. No pictures are hanging and nothing is in the room except a round table with 4 chairs. And here I sit, hooked up to a machine like a dairy cow, watching as my milk goes drip, drip, drip. My baby should be here with me. I wonder what he's doing right now? The machine is really loud and I feel like everyone who passes can hear.
I drive home in the rain. The city added 2 new traffic lights to my commute. Great...It shouldn't take me 30 minutes to go 7 miles, but it does. I listen to pop radio for the first time in what feels like forever, and I realize that all the songs are crap. I turn the radio off.
The baby cries when he sees me. Not a good cry either. It was like an "I'm mad at you why did you leave me all day" kind of cry. Listen, bud, I'm not happy about this either. I smile at him and play with him, feed him and get him down for bed. I'm really exhausted. I'm hoping for 6 hours of sleep, but I don't get it. I cry myself to sleep. I guess I'll do it again tomorrow. Remember to bring Kleenex.
This is my new reality. It's not bad, so I can't complain. But it's certainly not what I ever envisioned.
The large parking lot is more than half empty since it's the day after Christmas. No one wants to be here, and neither do I. I've been on maternity leave for 12 weeks and 2 days. It feels very surreal making the long walk up to the revolving doors, and yet, at the same time it's all very familiar. Just like riding a bike as they say.
Going back to an old routine is very strange...especially when you don't want to do it. I know every crack in this walkway. I've been staring at this pavement for the past 6 years as I traipse in and out of the building.
I don't mean to overdramatize the act of going back to work. Okay, yes I do...I've thought about this day since before he was born. I thought about it 100 times a day, and each time it made me sick to my stomach. What am I doing? Is this the right decision? Because it sure doesn't FEEL like the right decision. Can't there be another way? Ah, but there isn't...at least not for now. I want to stay with him, but I also want to contribute to our family's success. More specifically, for our future success - savings, college funds, vacations, retirement, etc.
So, I keep walking towards the gloomy building.
Three months with my brand new precious baby felt like a lifetime. The longest 3 months of my life. The days were super long, and more often than not they were super hard. I remember the early days when he was just days old and very tiny and frail...I'd be crying my eyes out because he was crying his eyes out, and I didn't know how to help him. Caring for my little man seemed to get easier with each passing day. But then again, I think it wasn't getting easier...I was more used to it. I learned what to expect and learned how to manage our day.
I learned that the book said the babies would nap for an hour or 2, but he will only nap for 30 minutes. I learned that he enjoys watching me say "La La La" and "Ma Ma Ma" but he does NOT enjoy when I sneeze loudly. I learned that he'll watch anything on TV even if the screen is solid black. He uses his right arm for everything, and left arm is only good for thumb sucking. He doesn't enjoy the morning routine of sucking snot out of his nose. His dad can always get him to give us a giant toothless smile. I memorized his face while I held him and I see it every time I close my eyes.
The elevator smells funny - like biscuits and cigarettes and cologne. As the doors open to the 5th floor I feel like I'm walking into an alternate reality. I pull my gym bag and breast pump behind me as I walk down the hallway, past the giant rolls of bubble wrap and the walls lined with filing cabinets. Hardly a soul is in attendance, and I'm thankful for that. I don't much feel like interacting with anyone.
I sit down at my desk and stare at 2 blank screens. I stay this way for the entire day since I've forgotten all my passwords and no one is here to re-set them. I stare at my plant Kate and the 2 new garden gnomes that someone put here while I was away. One of the gnomes is missing a hand.
I walk around the office a couple of times to stretch my legs and I see a few familiar faces, but most of these folks are strangers. A lot has changed around here since I've been gone, and I'm a bit nervous about my new role and my new boss.
I realize that not many people recognize me, but I walk around with my head held high because I'm an old timer here. I know this place. A few work friends greet me with giant hugs. They ask about the baby. "He's doing really well," I say as I smile and nod my head. I'm mostly just trying to reassure myself. The truth is that I don't really know how he's doing. I made up a song when he was newborn, and it was this: "You're not the best baby in the world, but you're not the worst baby in the world either." I think those lyrics still apply. The baby is a baby. He's sweet most of the time, he poos, he cries, he fights sleep, he wakes up once a night, and I'm tired. There you have it.
But I don't say any of those things because no one really gives a shit.
I go down to the gym during my lunch break and punch the punching bag. Punch, punch, punch...over and over again. I can't seem to hit it hard enough. My biceps burn, but it's not enough. I pick up a set of 5 pound weights and get back to punching.
As the day goes on, I see a glimpse of my former working self...the self that sold more than anyone on my team last year and closed the 2 biggest conversion deals that the company saw in months. (There's only 2 other people on my team, so it's not that big of a deal). I find myself talking about account strategies and using silly acronyms and dropping terms like "app" and "platform" and "sales funnel." Gross. Gag me.
But, apparently I'm good at it. I reckon I have all these people fooled. I'm walking around wearing black slacks and a white blouse with jewelry and heels. I must look like I have it all together - the working mom with the happy baby. But in reality I'm crying silently at my desk and crying while I pump.
Pumping at work is a humiliating feeling. I feel ashamed as I quietly lift my shirt and unhook my giant bra. These utters are disgustingly large. I think for a moment about lifting each one and resting them on the table, but I don't. The mini blinds are closed as tightly as possible (I checked them 3 times), but I still feel exposed. I sit in a small conference room next to our application developer's office. His last name is Lovely, but this is not lovely at all. The conference room is small and plain. Beige carpet and beige walls. No pictures are hanging and nothing is in the room except a round table with 4 chairs. And here I sit, hooked up to a machine like a dairy cow, watching as my milk goes drip, drip, drip. My baby should be here with me. I wonder what he's doing right now? The machine is really loud and I feel like everyone who passes can hear.
I drive home in the rain. The city added 2 new traffic lights to my commute. Great...It shouldn't take me 30 minutes to go 7 miles, but it does. I listen to pop radio for the first time in what feels like forever, and I realize that all the songs are crap. I turn the radio off.
The baby cries when he sees me. Not a good cry either. It was like an "I'm mad at you why did you leave me all day" kind of cry. Listen, bud, I'm not happy about this either. I smile at him and play with him, feed him and get him down for bed. I'm really exhausted. I'm hoping for 6 hours of sleep, but I don't get it. I cry myself to sleep. I guess I'll do it again tomorrow. Remember to bring Kleenex.
This is my new reality. It's not bad, so I can't complain. But it's certainly not what I ever envisioned.
Monday, December 24, 2012
Bah Humbug
I'll have you know, I wrote an entire post about how much I dislike Christmas (or rather, what Christmas has become nowadays). But, I deleted it. You're welcome. Instead I'll try to stay lighthearted and positive, and I promise not to bore you with my rants about the obsessive materialistic behaviors of today's Christmas lovers.
If I could celebrate Christmas like the Victorians did...simple celebrations with candles, fruit and small gifts...then I might enjoy this holiday a bit more. It's just way too out of control - you can't deny that. Heck, they start putting Christmas decorations out before Halloween now because they KNOW people will buy them. And they do! Grrrr...
I'm trying my best not to stress out about the truck loads of stuff that's about to enter my home.
But I digress...the babe is doing well. He's napping in his swing downstairs while I run around (literally, RUN) to try and get things done while he sleeps. His naps last about 20-40 minutes, so he keeps me on my toes. Other than not being a sleeper, he's doing just fine and growing like a weed. He's days away from being 3 months old, and let me tell you...it's been a LONG 3 months. He's really grown on me, though. His smile melts my heart. Sometimes while he's sleeping I have the urge to go grab him up and snuggle him. (Don't worry, I'm not that dumb!) But I really do like him. I love when he falls asleep in my arms. I could watch him sleeping all day...if only he'd do it!
I officially return to the world of working the day after Christmas, which starts a whole new routine for us. I'll be a WORKING MOM, and quite frankly, I'm scared to death. I have no problem leaving the baby in the care of others. In fact, I welcome it! It's the schedule and logistics that I'm most scared of, but we'll do it....somehow. In the mornings I'll carry with me: carseat + baby, diaper bag, gym bag, breast pump bag, purse, lunch, coffee and most likely an on-the-go breakfast. And once a week I'll have a box of diapers for the day care, too! How many freakin' trips to the car does one woman need to make to start her day?!?!
Oh, enough about that...I don't want to think about that anymore.
Poor Sean came down with a dreadful cold yesterday, so he won't be participating in any of the extended family Christmas festivities. We'll stay at home Christmas day, open gifts and eat some good food. Sean's mom, brother, sister and soon-to-be sister in law will stop by for a visit and gift exchange.
I don't really know what else to say that isn't something Grinch-y. I really just want to crawl in bed, lock the doors, turn off the phone and hide for the next 2 days. Bah Humbug!
If I could celebrate Christmas like the Victorians did...simple celebrations with candles, fruit and small gifts...then I might enjoy this holiday a bit more. It's just way too out of control - you can't deny that. Heck, they start putting Christmas decorations out before Halloween now because they KNOW people will buy them. And they do! Grrrr...
I'm trying my best not to stress out about the truck loads of stuff that's about to enter my home.
But I digress...the babe is doing well. He's napping in his swing downstairs while I run around (literally, RUN) to try and get things done while he sleeps. His naps last about 20-40 minutes, so he keeps me on my toes. Other than not being a sleeper, he's doing just fine and growing like a weed. He's days away from being 3 months old, and let me tell you...it's been a LONG 3 months. He's really grown on me, though. His smile melts my heart. Sometimes while he's sleeping I have the urge to go grab him up and snuggle him. (Don't worry, I'm not that dumb!) But I really do like him. I love when he falls asleep in my arms. I could watch him sleeping all day...if only he'd do it!
I officially return to the world of working the day after Christmas, which starts a whole new routine for us. I'll be a WORKING MOM, and quite frankly, I'm scared to death. I have no problem leaving the baby in the care of others. In fact, I welcome it! It's the schedule and logistics that I'm most scared of, but we'll do it....somehow. In the mornings I'll carry with me: carseat + baby, diaper bag, gym bag, breast pump bag, purse, lunch, coffee and most likely an on-the-go breakfast. And once a week I'll have a box of diapers for the day care, too! How many freakin' trips to the car does one woman need to make to start her day?!?!
Oh, enough about that...I don't want to think about that anymore.
Poor Sean came down with a dreadful cold yesterday, so he won't be participating in any of the extended family Christmas festivities. We'll stay at home Christmas day, open gifts and eat some good food. Sean's mom, brother, sister and soon-to-be sister in law will stop by for a visit and gift exchange.
I don't really know what else to say that isn't something Grinch-y. I really just want to crawl in bed, lock the doors, turn off the phone and hide for the next 2 days. Bah Humbug!
Sunday, November 25, 2012
Grown up things.
Ever since our family got baby bombed, it's been a challenge to make time for grown up things. Sean and I know very well that this is par for the course, and we're very lucky to have so many family and friends nearby when we need a little help. Seems like everyone is in line waiting for their turn to babysit...which is a good problem to have!
Yes, the family dynamic has changed quite a bit, but we're still making time to do grown up things with each other. I believe you can't have a happy family without having a happy marriage first.
We had a lovely anniversary date at the beginning of November - totally baby free for 6 hours! We ventured to East Nashville to try Eastland Cafe and enjoyed and excellent adult meal, complete with wine. Who knew they had such a great happy hour? Our meals were fantastic and we can't wait to go back.
She had: Seared Halibut served over a butternut squash puree with a black pepper molasses and roasted root vegetables tossed with chorizo sausage.
He had: Quail and Tabasco cheese grits, saute of oyster mushrooms, bacon and green onions
They had: THE BEST. DESSERT. EVER. A Homemade cinnamon sugar doughnut stuffed with apple pie filling, served over white chocolate frosting and topped with a salted caramel gelatto. Damn, it was so good. I wanted to order 4 of them...just for myself.
After dinner we went to TPAC to see Anthony Bourdain's show, which was a unique one-man act, but we enjoyed it very much. It was the perfect way to celebrate 6 years of marriage with my sweetie.
Less than a week after our anniversary, it was time for another special evening as Sean had a speaking engagement at the Franklin Theatre. I wanted to be there to show my support for him and his team of Next Gen members. The theatre hosted Next Gen's theme reveal for their upcoming Three Blind Vines event. Go here to see more about it.
And finally, last night was a big night for us...a fire pit night! It was our first fireside date since having the baby. We put the baby to bed and prayed that he'd go to sleep, which he did (after much crying). With the baby monitor in tow, we bundled up and parked our butts beside the fire in the back yard...with a glass of wine, of course. We were only our for an hour or so before we got too sleepy, but it was so very special. I love sneaking in time with my man whenever we're able.
Yes, the family dynamic has changed quite a bit, but we're still making time to do grown up things with each other. I believe you can't have a happy family without having a happy marriage first.
We had a lovely anniversary date at the beginning of November - totally baby free for 6 hours! We ventured to East Nashville to try Eastland Cafe and enjoyed and excellent adult meal, complete with wine. Who knew they had such a great happy hour? Our meals were fantastic and we can't wait to go back.
She had: Seared Halibut served over a butternut squash puree with a black pepper molasses and roasted root vegetables tossed with chorizo sausage.
He had: Quail and Tabasco cheese grits, saute of oyster mushrooms, bacon and green onions
They had: THE BEST. DESSERT. EVER. A Homemade cinnamon sugar doughnut stuffed with apple pie filling, served over white chocolate frosting and topped with a salted caramel gelatto. Damn, it was so good. I wanted to order 4 of them...just for myself.
After dinner we went to TPAC to see Anthony Bourdain's show, which was a unique one-man act, but we enjoyed it very much. It was the perfect way to celebrate 6 years of marriage with my sweetie.
Less than a week after our anniversary, it was time for another special evening as Sean had a speaking engagement at the Franklin Theatre. I wanted to be there to show my support for him and his team of Next Gen members. The theatre hosted Next Gen's theme reveal for their upcoming Three Blind Vines event. Go here to see more about it.
And finally, last night was a big night for us...a fire pit night! It was our first fireside date since having the baby. We put the baby to bed and prayed that he'd go to sleep, which he did (after much crying). With the baby monitor in tow, we bundled up and parked our butts beside the fire in the back yard...with a glass of wine, of course. We were only our for an hour or so before we got too sleepy, but it was so very special. I love sneaking in time with my man whenever we're able.
Monday, November 12, 2012
I see.
I see now...I see how very DIFFICULT it is to raise a happy, healthy, functioning family. No wonder the world is as screwed up as it is. This is nuts! And as I'm sure most new mothers do, I have a newfound respect for everyone involved in raising a child. Mothers, fathers, grandparents, caretakers and teachers...
I used to cringe when I hear babies screaming in public. Now I breathe a sigh of relif and say to myself, "Thank God it's not mine..."
I mean, we MADE a baby...he LIVED inside my BODY...You think it would be the most amazing and gratifying thing to hold him and love him and care for him. NOPE. He's trying his damndest to get voted off the island.
Sometimes I like him. Just sometimes. The rest of the time I'm praying to God to help me get through the next hour without having a meltdown myself.
Any parent reading this surely knows what I mean. This tiny and precious 11 pound being has the ability to instantly turn into some kind of posessed thing that screams bloody murder in your face, scratches you, kicks you and clearly doesn't appreaciate that you're trying to keep him alive.
In addition to the calming lullaby CD playing in his room, there is another track going on in my head. It goes something like this: You'll get through this. This is only temporary. He doesn't know that he's evil. He's just a baby. You don't need sleep. Who needs sleep? Don't move or you'll wake him up. Just pee on yourself in this chair. The smell will go away eventually. Whatever you do don't wake him. Just love him and hold him and rock him. He needs you. There's a good boy in there somewhere. One day you'll forget this ever happened and you'll really love him. One day. One day you'll play with him and he'll laugh and say "I love you, Mommy." I hope. Right? Yes...he will. Okay, just 10 more minutes and then you can call for Sean to come save you.
I see now how kids can ruin a marriage. I see how parents can flip out on their kids, lose their patience, yell, scream and yes, even hit their kids. (For the record, I don't plan on doing any of these things.)
I'm a relatively normal person. I'm of sound mind and body, and yet, he is making me LOSE. MY. MIND. Sean's too. My Sean is the most patient and calm person I know and, yes, even he has been beaten down by the little baby.
We're living on hope for a peaceful tomorrow. There are easy days and there are really hard days, but every day is a good day because we're alive and well and together. (and crying)
I used to cringe when I hear babies screaming in public. Now I breathe a sigh of relif and say to myself, "Thank God it's not mine..."
I mean, we MADE a baby...he LIVED inside my BODY...You think it would be the most amazing and gratifying thing to hold him and love him and care for him. NOPE. He's trying his damndest to get voted off the island.
Sometimes I like him. Just sometimes. The rest of the time I'm praying to God to help me get through the next hour without having a meltdown myself.
Any parent reading this surely knows what I mean. This tiny and precious 11 pound being has the ability to instantly turn into some kind of posessed thing that screams bloody murder in your face, scratches you, kicks you and clearly doesn't appreaciate that you're trying to keep him alive.
In addition to the calming lullaby CD playing in his room, there is another track going on in my head. It goes something like this: You'll get through this. This is only temporary. He doesn't know that he's evil. He's just a baby. You don't need sleep. Who needs sleep? Don't move or you'll wake him up. Just pee on yourself in this chair. The smell will go away eventually. Whatever you do don't wake him. Just love him and hold him and rock him. He needs you. There's a good boy in there somewhere. One day you'll forget this ever happened and you'll really love him. One day. One day you'll play with him and he'll laugh and say "I love you, Mommy." I hope. Right? Yes...he will. Okay, just 10 more minutes and then you can call for Sean to come save you.
I see now how kids can ruin a marriage. I see how parents can flip out on their kids, lose their patience, yell, scream and yes, even hit their kids. (For the record, I don't plan on doing any of these things.)
I'm a relatively normal person. I'm of sound mind and body, and yet, he is making me LOSE. MY. MIND. Sean's too. My Sean is the most patient and calm person I know and, yes, even he has been beaten down by the little baby.
We're living on hope for a peaceful tomorrow. There are easy days and there are really hard days, but every day is a good day because we're alive and well and together. (and crying)
Saturday, October 27, 2012
The big reveal
He is sitting downstairs with his dad as I type. Crying, of course. About what? Who knows...Maybe he's upset because UT is losing to S. Carolina.
I CAN'T BELIEVE WE HAVE A BABY!!!! I stare at him and all I can think is, "Those feet were in my belly. Those little hands were in my belly. That button nose was in my belly." It's so strange to have him here with us after all this time. We are PARENTS. I carried him for 9 months wondering who he was and what he'd be like. Now I get to see him each day, and talk to him, and we look into each others eyes. It's so cool!
He came to us on Friday, September 28th and he'll be 1 month tomorrow. I'll be honest - it's been a long, long month. Very draining, but we're hanging in there. He sure is a cutie.
I published his birth story on the secret blog, and I decided that I also wanted to share it with y'all here. That's right! You get to venture over to the secret baby blog if you wish to do so. Just follow this link and it's all right there waiting for you. All 9 months of my thoughts. Knock yourselves out!
I CAN'T BELIEVE WE HAVE A BABY!!!! I stare at him and all I can think is, "Those feet were in my belly. Those little hands were in my belly. That button nose was in my belly." It's so strange to have him here with us after all this time. We are PARENTS. I carried him for 9 months wondering who he was and what he'd be like. Now I get to see him each day, and talk to him, and we look into each others eyes. It's so cool!
He came to us on Friday, September 28th and he'll be 1 month tomorrow. I'll be honest - it's been a long, long month. Very draining, but we're hanging in there. He sure is a cutie.
I published his birth story on the secret blog, and I decided that I also wanted to share it with y'all here. That's right! You get to venture over to the secret baby blog if you wish to do so. Just follow this link and it's all right there waiting for you. All 9 months of my thoughts. Knock yourselves out!
Wednesday, September 12, 2012
Tee-Niny.
Disclaimer: I somehow managed to use the words Penis, Vagina and Tits in this post. If you are easily offended by these words, please close your browser immediately.
In other parts of the world, a very small object may be considered "tiny." Not so in The South. Down here the very tiniest of objects are known as "Tee-niny." Say it with me, now: Tee. Niny.
For example, I'm about to have a baby here in a couple of weeks. And rest assured, someone at some point will state the following: "Ohhh, lookie thar. Ain't he a sweetie? He sure is a tee-niny little thang." (For my vagina's sake, I'm really hoping he is as tee-niny as possible.)
The use of the word tee-niny has fallen out of my personal vocabulary, thanks, in part, to my being married to a neutral accented feller. However, this gem of a word is alive and well with my mother and sister. Thank goodness!
I've had an obsession with tee-niny objects my entire adulthood. Show me a miniature ANYTHING and I will squeal with delight. Guaranteed. The bigger deal, here, is that I'm not generally a squeal-y type person. Quite the opposite, in fact. Hardly anything gets me excited, but show me a miniature tea set and I'll damn near faint. In fact, I damn near fainted when I saw this most amazing hand-crafted miniature mouse tree house on the Internet today. Just look at the thousands of meticulous miniature details!!! I'm dying.
And it got me thinkin'...Why do I find such large amounts of joy in the smallest of objects? (And don't go making any jokes about Sean's penis. It's huge, by the way.) I think my love of all things tee-niny stems mostly from the world of Barbie. Sister and I must've had HUNDREDS of Barbies...and Barbie's clothes, shoes, a fleet of vehicles, houses and furniture...She and I were recently reminiscing about our passion for playing Barbies. It was a daily activity for us, and our Barbie story lines would last for weeks at a time.
While I loved my Barbies and everything, I was always very jealous of this girl in my neighborhood named Cate Morris. Because Cate had a dollhouse. A REAL Victorian dollhouse with tiny little shingles and tiny little furniture and tee-niny little doll plates to sit atop the doll dining room table. My mind would get lost as I stared into that dollhouse. It was full-on mesmerizing to me, but Cate didn't seem to appreciate her dollhouse at all! I would shake my head in disgust and think, "If only it were mine..." (I felt the same way about her American Girl Doll Samantha and her NES power pad, too).
The dollhouse made my Barbies look like Mrs. King Kong, the giant plastic woman who came to kill you with her thunder thighs and torpedo tits. And nobody wants that.
I never had a dollhouse of my own, but let me tell you about one tee-niny set of toys that I did have -- The Cottontail Rabbit Family from Calico Critters. My sister had the Milky Mouse Family. Or maybe it was the other way around. Regardless, we had the bunnies and we had the mice. Not only am I amazed that I was able to recall us having these things, I'm also amazed that they still sell them! I probably shouldn't tell you that I just spent the past 15 minutes gushing over the Calico Critters collection of homes on their website. If I'm not careful, I'll end up with my very own TLC show: My Miniature Obsession. Now, who wants to buy me the Meerkat Triplets for Christmas? Anyone??
In other parts of the world, a very small object may be considered "tiny." Not so in The South. Down here the very tiniest of objects are known as "Tee-niny." Say it with me, now: Tee. Niny.
For example, I'm about to have a baby here in a couple of weeks. And rest assured, someone at some point will state the following: "Ohhh, lookie thar. Ain't he a sweetie? He sure is a tee-niny little thang." (For my vagina's sake, I'm really hoping he is as tee-niny as possible.)
The use of the word tee-niny has fallen out of my personal vocabulary, thanks, in part, to my being married to a neutral accented feller. However, this gem of a word is alive and well with my mother and sister. Thank goodness!
I've had an obsession with tee-niny objects my entire adulthood. Show me a miniature ANYTHING and I will squeal with delight. Guaranteed. The bigger deal, here, is that I'm not generally a squeal-y type person. Quite the opposite, in fact. Hardly anything gets me excited, but show me a miniature tea set and I'll damn near faint. In fact, I damn near fainted when I saw this most amazing hand-crafted miniature mouse tree house on the Internet today. Just look at the thousands of meticulous miniature details!!! I'm dying.
And it got me thinkin'...Why do I find such large amounts of joy in the smallest of objects? (And don't go making any jokes about Sean's penis. It's huge, by the way.) I think my love of all things tee-niny stems mostly from the world of Barbie. Sister and I must've had HUNDREDS of Barbies...and Barbie's clothes, shoes, a fleet of vehicles, houses and furniture...She and I were recently reminiscing about our passion for playing Barbies. It was a daily activity for us, and our Barbie story lines would last for weeks at a time.
While I loved my Barbies and everything, I was always very jealous of this girl in my neighborhood named Cate Morris. Because Cate had a dollhouse. A REAL Victorian dollhouse with tiny little shingles and tiny little furniture and tee-niny little doll plates to sit atop the doll dining room table. My mind would get lost as I stared into that dollhouse. It was full-on mesmerizing to me, but Cate didn't seem to appreciate her dollhouse at all! I would shake my head in disgust and think, "If only it were mine..." (I felt the same way about her American Girl Doll Samantha and her NES power pad, too).
The dollhouse made my Barbies look like Mrs. King Kong, the giant plastic woman who came to kill you with her thunder thighs and torpedo tits. And nobody wants that.
I never had a dollhouse of my own, but let me tell you about one tee-niny set of toys that I did have -- The Cottontail Rabbit Family from Calico Critters. My sister had the Milky Mouse Family. Or maybe it was the other way around. Regardless, we had the bunnies and we had the mice. Not only am I amazed that I was able to recall us having these things, I'm also amazed that they still sell them! I probably shouldn't tell you that I just spent the past 15 minutes gushing over the Calico Critters collection of homes on their website. If I'm not careful, I'll end up with my very own TLC show: My Miniature Obsession. Now, who wants to buy me the Meerkat Triplets for Christmas? Anyone??
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