Discombobulation Station

And She Was (Pt. 2)

Continued from here...

March 31. A normal Tuesday.  Went to work. Walked up the 3 flights of stairs, went to meetings (still under the cloud of the Terrible). Went to the doctor. She asked if Addie might hold off until after the weekend, as she was going out of town. Sure thing, I said. We made an appointment for the following week. I trudged back to the office, to meet the FYC, around the house doing menial tasks. We ordered pizza and I ate a huge slab of chocolate cake with peanut butter icing and felt sorry for myself.

At around 10:30 my stomach started to hurt. Stupid Papa John's! Stupid cake! I thought. But then, the feeling changed from indigestion to something...else. Something squeeze-y. And particular. Contractions! I shouted down to the FYC: CONTRACTIONS! We looked at our birthing class book and confirmed that I was indeed having contractions. But they were far apart, and I was not moaning or breathing all raggedy like our teacher said I would when it was time to head to hospital. So he said, let's try to go to bed. So I did. Or, I tried.

Hey, wake up. I'm 5-1-1-ing. I shook the FYC's shoulder, trying to wake him up. I called the hospital and they know we might come in.  I had been wandering around the house, timing my contractions, for, well, forever, or about 4 hours. It was 2:00 am and we were going to have our baby.

Maybe. The FYC was still convinced they were going to send us home after an hour. Still, we left Floyd the Greyhound and the kitties with loads of food and kisses and headed out for the most suspenseful 20 minute drive of our lives.  There was no speeding - no need, because all the traffic lights were flashing yellow and there was no one else on the road.  It was white-knuckle nonetheless.

Once at the hospital, the expected stuff happened. I got the ugly gown, all examined and blood pressured and etc. They put this fancy belt on my huge belly to check Addie's heart rate. All was well, and we WERE having the baby, for real.  My contractions were getting fierce, and, exhausted from being up since 7 am the previous day, we didn't do much of the lovely walking and talking and yoga poses and etc -- the stuff I presumed I would want to do. I had planned to be a serene, lavender-scented birthing goddess. Instead, I was starving, sweating, exhausted, and cold.  And we still had many. Many. Hours to go. 

Wooo rocking the gown wooooo.  Ouchie ouch ouch.

To be continued...

xoxo, A

And She Was (pt. 1)

(Typepad is still a mess, so I am forced to write a story with no linkies, frills, or furbelows. As any good bloggess before me, I choose to tell....zee birthing story. Away we go!)

The weekend of March 28, I was terrible. I mean, I FELT Terrible. Half sick, super tired but wired, cranky, etc. I forced the FYC to drive me 1.5 hrs roundtrip to my parents' house to get a cradle just because I didn't want to drive myself ooooh sooo faaaaar. I might have actually had a tantrum. And then took a nap. I was 39 weeks pregnant, and Terrible, and givemecakeifyouwannalive. 

In spite of this and other signs (like people looking at me and saying, wow, you could go any minute now huh?) I was in denial that Addie-Day  was anywhere near. Convinced she was ass-down, her foot lodged under my ribs, I had to have two doctors check that out to be sure that she was ready to launch. The weekend before the Terrible set in, I had nested furiously, cleaning until my fingers tingled and my back ached. But, you know. Denial. Meetings were planned, errands went un-runned, stuff lay around in boxes and the fridge was empty. Dee. Nie. Uhl. I figured I had at least a week after my due date to count on. Everyone ELSE had gone at least a week past their due dates. Ah, but they were not having an Aries.

(we interrupt this message to say ARRGGHHH OOOOOH TYPEPAD BLOWS IT ATE MY POST AND NOW I HAVE TO GO TO BED AND WILL WRITE MORE OF THIS TOMORROW.)

To be continued...

xoxo, A

Do Not Read This, for It Stinks. It's Kind of about TV.

Because I know you are dying to know, tonight I made beef stir fry. I tweaked the recipe from something I found online, in the process discovering "the secret for beef stir fry is frying the beef in a cup of oil." A WHOLE CUP OF OIL. Nuts.  I would never. What would you do with all that goddamn hot oil? Thankfully, we didn't even have any oil,  so I wasn't tempted. I sprayed Pam on the wok and it was still very good.  So fie on you, internet recipes.

Speaking of Pam, have we ever talked about The Office? One night years ago the Irish Carpenter introduced me to the BBC version.  It was...uncomfortable at first. And then, suddenly, something in your brain switches and everything is HILARIOUS. It is not the same watching the NBC version, which is funny from the get go, but not as HILARIOUS because you don't have to pass through that discomfort zone. It's sort of like Ricky Gervais makes you earn the funny. Steve Carrell, on the other hand, is just funny. I mean, look at him! He's just one of those people who look funny. I often randomly say "I stabbed a man in the HEART!"  Just 'cause. I suppose there is some larger theme, about the subtlety of British humor vs. blunt American comedy but I don't think I am in the proper mental state to draw that one out.  Plus, some British stuff is as unsubtle as all get out. Say...Little Britain? Whackadoo. Now my argument is all effed up. Rats.

And NOW I have to publish this crap-ass post without any links because Typepad seems to be broken and the text editor is not working.  I don't have the gumption to use my trident on Typepad. 

Hope you all had super Saturdays.  I will try my hardest to be more interesting tomorrow.

xoxo, A

Bawk Bawk

It's the It's-Tuesday-I'm-Tired copout video post! Please to enjoy the short video following:

Halloween is 1000 times awesome when you have can dress up a BABY. And when the BABY is obliging enough to allow you to plop her in the middle of a flock for a photo shoot. 

(Am taking ridiculous advantage of obliging, as, karmically, Addie will surely be *ahem* less so between the ages of, oh, 10 and 24...)

xoxo, A

Fall Back

Today started out as a pretty typical Monday -- got up a little early (time change argghh), coffee walk & nap for the wee one, babysitter arrived at 10 am. I logged into my work email and -- wot's this? A major announcement released to all of our constituents moments before I got online. An email that I hadn't seen at all. In a format that I hadn't helped create. In other words, an email that announced that I, the ostensible "media and communications consultant/manager" of the organization I've worked for for nearly 7 years, was completely obsolete.

My work broke up with me, and I had barely seen it coming. Or rather, I chalked up any noticing sensations to postpartum hormonal paranoia.  Obtuseness in relationships is not new to me -- He's Just Not That Into You probably SHOULD have been my Bible while I was dating in NYC, but this is new to me.  A work break-up. Work and I have always been, well, just cool.

I started back to work 5 weeks after the baby was born. At first, it was a breeze. Expectations were low on either side. I put the baby into her sling and she slept during conference calls. She would sit in her swing and drift off while I answered emails. While she was nursing, I would prop the computer up on the couch cushions and edit documents. Things went this merry way until Addie turned 4 months old. An alert, happy, silly, DID I MENTION ALERT four months.

And my life went, basically, fully to shit. I couldn't get her to nap, at least not the lovely two-hours-every-two-hours to which I was accustomed,  so I couldn't work during the day. I couldn't get the FYD to take regular half-days off from work to cover me.  I asked my mom to come for a few hours on Wednesdays, but otherwise...I was on my own.  Taking care of the baby (who would only barely tolerate hanging with her dad anyway) all day and all night on my own, and attempting to work in my spare time.

Basically, I lost my shit. I had never not been able to get my work done before. In my first year with the company, I didn't even take a sick day. So this feeling was very new, and scary. And I was hoping that no one else would notice, but of course. Two weeks or so into my drown-a-thon my boss and I had a frank discussion. She told me that people were "wondering about my schedule and availability" and wanted to know "if I was really committed to returning to work."

I was. I swear, I totally was.

So, I created a 3-day a week schedule for myself (more availability than before the baby!), hired a babysitter (socializing for the baby!), and got down to it. And it was working, this working thing.

Or so I thought. First -- my boss sent me a resume for another "media and communications consultant and asked for my ideas on "a small project she might help work on." Then, one of my coworkers jokingly said that my tenure at the company "didn't count" because I was no longer an in-house staff person. Most tellingly, my 2010 contract arrived with a suggested 50% reduction in hours.  And so on.

But still I toiled, still I spun, still I felt like I was doing *just barely* the best job I could do both as a mama and an employee (but a terrible job as a girlfriend - more on that later). But apparently it wasn't good enough for this mid-sized nonprofit.

Today, with this tell-tale email in my inbox, after a brief deliberation, I canceled my contract. Pride cometh before my 2010 paychecks. Severing the most successful relationship of my adult life: nearly 7 years, from receptionist to manager to consultant. I know this company inside and out. And in 30 days, I won't know anything anymore. 

xoxo, A

Mysteries of Pitts..errr...Portland

File #454 -- The Case of the Missing Dairy

Wednesday, 9:40 a.m. Victim reports missing pint of milk, desperately needed to whiten coffee, to cohabitant via IM. Exact words of report: Did you get up in the middle of the night and drink all the milk??!!?? Where the F is the Fing MILK?

Cohabitant denies such activity. Victim and cohabitant indulge in several minutes of paranoid fantasy (via IM) on whereabouts of milk, centered around floating spirit of recently deceased, milk-crazy feline cohabitant. Victim, though "thoroughly creeped out," decides to proceed with coffee-making, planning to substitute inferior soy-milk product for necessary coffee whitening.

10:20 a.m. Coffee making completed. Victim opens cupboard containing coffee mugs.

10:21 a.m. Victim,"rather shamefaced," returns to computer, clutching warm pint of milk, which she had "put away" in same cupboard the night before, after an evening snack.  Sleep deprivation is pinpointed as cause of stupids.

CASE CLOSED. 

Case #455 -- The Case of the Boot

Sunday, 12:40 p.m. Victim, cohabitant, and infant are preparing for an autumnal hike when it is discovered that victim's left boot is filled with pieces of hard kibble-style cat food. Coincidentally, feline cohabitant had recently complained of empty food bowl.  After much examination, Victim and cohabitants come to no conclusions as to origin of alternative food placement.

Possible rodent fecal matter found near open bag of cat food in nearby pantry.  Clue? 

Victim decides to pour misplaced cat-kibble onto ground beside sideporch. Feline cohabitant and poultry flock take advantage of this temporary solution.

CASE PENDING.

Case #456 -- The Case of the Missing Libido

Saturday, 8:40 p.m. Two Victims of same household report extreme lack of adult relations. Victim A claims Victim B even "goes so far as to wear unflattering pajamas every night."

Victim B does not deny such claims, but reports that "the bedroom is chilly, and she has to wear a goddamn bra to bed every night anyway." 

Situation seems irreconcilable.  

CASE PENDING.

xoxo, A

Halloweenie

It's 7:49 on Halloween night, and I am sitting in front of the TV watching an incredibly stupid movie, listening to the kitty snore, drinking a solitary glass of wine, and waiting for the baby to wake up.

I am not dressed up, eating candy, or at a party -- but the FYD is. When the in-laws' visit fell through, and along with that the promise of a babysitter for one night, there wasn't a discussion. Or, rather, there was, and it went something like this:

FYD: So what are we going to be for B's Halloween party?

Me: Oh, I can't go to the party! We don't have a babysitter!

FYD: Oh yeah that's right! Too bad.

So here I am. What is this I'm feeling? Is it pain? Panic? Hunger? Am I hungry? Who's hungry?*

No. None of those things. Just sort of tired. Well, probably hungry. Am always hungry these days. Wondering why it was so easy for me to not to go a party. Wondering if I will ever go to a party (and have fun) ever again. Wondering whether or not to quit my job. Wondering when I will go back to dance class again, if ever.  Wondering if the baby will ever sleep through the night again. And wondering if this year's NaBloPoMo will be the kick in the bloggin pants I need - maybe it might even be a bit of a Shakabuku.*

Hiya! Heeeere we go! 

xoxo and Happy Halloweenies to you all, A 

*yeah, Gross Pointe Blankin'

Back To Work

Freelancing is so very random. I put in some good karma in the last year or so by periodically emailing those people in my industry who hire freelancers for the exact thing that I do. Some of them I know and have worked for, some I introduced myself to last autumn, and some I have never met. As fall started to heat up, I was put on hold by the place I worked last spring - and I was excited to go back. As it turned out, they couldn't get enough projects to justify bringing me in, so I was put in a holding pattern there. Then my previous employer, the place I worked for for seven years of my young professional life, also inquired about my schedule and said they would love to work on getting me in soon. So things were looking good. I even had a real life permanent job interview, which scared the crap out of me, but I went in to give it a feel anyway. And then out of the blue one Monday evening I got an email from an agency I had never worked at before. Hell, I've never even been inside this particular agency, had just been sending blind emails about my reel updates and summer film projects. Apparently, if you do this enough, people forget that perhaps they had never even met you. So I got an inquiry about my availability, and a small description of the job at hand. I said I was available and able to come in for a chat. I went in for said chat the next day, and the day after that I started to work!

As it turns out I did know a few people there, and I learned that my name had been vetted through some other popular vendors and it all checked out with enthusiasm. So now I am making some good money working in post at an agency. The first few days were the hardest. Coming in not knowing the full scope of the project, not really having a place to sit they put me in an empty audio studio. Nice lighting, a couch, and a full audio system in front of me (even though I was only using the empty computer and phone terminal.) I had to get my head around a project that was already in full swing, and I also had to insert myself in a way that would give job security. I had the feeling the job could almost happen without me, but it was so fast paced and involving that another head and set of eyes were all that was needed. Sometimes I think I'm just there to make sure people order lunch each day!

But I'll be there through at least the first part of November, and am working with really nice people and the workflow seems to be going well, better than usual according to their stories. They're a lively, bawdy group, more so than any other place I've worked. But I did work on beer for three years so there's not much that can shock me, although that has been tested recently.

A few things that are really cool about this office:

Great location off the Mag Mile (and shorter commute than other places)

Full cafeteria serving breakfast and lunch one flight below me

Coffeebar serving espresso drinks, tea and smoothies one flight above me ($1/donation per drink goes to charity)

Two dogs sitting in a little pen each day that people sign up to take out for walks

At least three days a week a large lunch is ordered of which I can take part of (and order and go pick up as well - still not a bad deal.)

Daily runs to Starbucks, despite said coffee bar on premises

Lots of free time to read blogs/news (I was obsessed with balloon boy) while I wait for client approvals or sessions to finish

New experience wearing a different hat in my industry

My only problem is that the job is going a bit too swimmingly - we're finishing projects ahead of schedule as the schedule keeps on changing, and we're just forging ahead despite the realignments. I might be putting myself out of work early by being so efficient but hey, at least I think I'm doing a good job. I've been told my demeanor is just right for this sort of thing - inquisitive and helpful without being too overbearing. So worse comes to worse, I finish the gig early. They will probably call me back when the entire project gets revised again.

In the meantime, here's to paying off those summer credit card debts whose 0% interest will be coming up...oh about now.

Sigh, I do love the freelance life, despite the unknown. Am adventuress.

E.

Thank Heaven

(Rashomon-stylee. Gonna post on the trip E. already done posted about. And you're gonna LIKE IT. )

Foolhardy, brave, naive, insane. Whatever you want to call it, I decided it would be a brilliant idea to fly away for a long weekend to see some of my favorite girls, just me and Addie. And....it WAS. 

First. My vision of the security line, with big bunches of annoyed passengers piling up behind me, ready to throw their carefully prepared plastic bags of 3 oz bottles at my stupid-mama-who-brings-their-baby-on-the-plane-anyway? head. Totally FALSE. There is a special line for people traveling with infants! A Special Line! And everyone was so nice! Telling me how to fit the carseat through the xray machine and joking that I should not, really, put the baby into the x-ray machine -- unless I thought she would enjoy the ride. (I didn't. She wouldn't.) It was a little weird, having my breastmilk tested for explosives, but I suppose not unreasonable. So we breezed through security (both ways) and found ourselves with plenty of leisure time at PWM and TPA respectively.

Second. You know how babies shriek and cry and poop all over themselves on airplanes and make you never, ever, ever want to have kids? Well, I dunno how I lucked out, and maybe it will only be this first trip that will be so, but Addie was amazing on the planes.  I bought her her own seat (for both our sakes, she is HUGE and HOT and I am not holding a HUGE HOT NOT LIKELY TO NAP ON MY LAP BABY for hours upon hours no matter how many two hundreds of dollars it saves me) and she....slept. She slept like a wee log. And when she woke up, she drank her non-explosive breast milk from a bottle and proceeded to charm the pants of everyone in rows 25 back with her goofy grins. It was just a pleasure. And everyone was so nice! No one even rolled their eyes about having to sit near us!And there were lots of other babies on the planes and they were all good too!!

<Sidebar>During our layover in Baltimore, I had enough time to spread out her blankie and let her roll and wiggle. A steady stream of passengers rolled by, and suddenly a great big dude in airport maintenance costume stopped in his tracks and SQUEALED. I shit you not, this big huge dude in a brown uniform and one of those weight-lifting belt thingies squealed at my baby. OH I LOVE THIS BABY! he said. THIS IS A KODAK MOMENT!! WHAT A GORGEOUS LITTLE GIRL!! I LOVE HER!! Addressing Addie: YOU BETTER SEND ME A POSTCARD FROM WHERE EVER YOU ARE GOING, OK??? AY-YEEE THIS BABY!! she just looked up at him, a little confused at the attention, and half-grinned, all the while looking at me to make sure it was cool.</Sidebar>

Yes, Addie, it is cool to smile at strangers. Even when they are airport employee whackadoos.

Third. OK, it was beastly hot in Florida, but S's new hometown, like all of her hometowns, was just cute and lovely and right on the beach. And Addie did indeed LOVE her aunties. It was the first time in weeks that I was able to put her in someone else's arms and LEAVE THE ROOM without a separation-anxiety-related-meltdown. Maybe you heard the sonic boom of my heart exploding in joy at about 7:13 pm Friday 25 September 2009. Because I got to LEAVE THE ROOM WITHOUT THE BABY. It was a frickin' miracle. And there were only a few hairy moments with sleeping, or not-sleeping, to interrupt this glorious miracle of holy-crap-she-is-so-GOOD. 

Third and a half. It is still awfully weird not to barhop with my co-bloggess and the other gals, and have wacky-drink-filled adventures as in days of yore (like, 2007), but the weekend was lovely and relaxing after all.

And in spite of E's protestations, I think she handled both of the wee ones beautifully, and would make a fine, fine mama herself, whensoever she might deem herself ready.

<Sidebar> Early in my pregnancy I went to see Elizabeth Gilbert speak. During the Q&A session a woman asked her about being a stepmom, and Liz (yeah, we're that tight) laughed and said, oh I am lucky, I have two lovely GROWN-UP stepkids...and went on to talk about how she had never woken up and felt called to have a baby. And how she realized that she fits in to a long and glorious literary tradition of magical aunties who can "sweep in and care for the children after the parents die of TB or something."  I had always thought I would be that magical auntie - but then I got knocked up. So, I am super duper wonderful glad that Addie has so many of her own magical aunties who are not allowed to be exempted from the job even if/when they have kids of their own, OK?</Sidebar>

<Errrr...is it weird that now I am craving a Sidecar?>

Anyway! I, however, am not ready for a rambunctious 2-year old, and yeeeeah I don't think 2-year-olds come in any other flavor. So I am begging pleasepleasepleaseAddiedonotgrowuptoofast.  Please, please stay lovely and little for a long time longer. At least long enough for our next girls' weekend in Colorado with your new BFFs.

xoxo, A

Six Months

I didn't want to leave the hospital. Though I felt GREAT from the adrenaline rush of delivery and the suprisingly powerful first swoon of love for my new baby, I had NO FUCKING CLUE what I was gonna do with this little tiny helpless critter.  This new person, this Addie we had made.

And I am not used to not having a clue. I am used to at least appearing competent in all avenues of life. (Mostly because I just don't do things that I suck at, like playing basketball, or science.)  I desperately hoped that I wouldn't completely suck at mama-ing, because BOY had I READ A LOT ABOUT IT.

But I was nervous, and clueless, and completely unprepared in almost every way.  Most of what I had planned (NO cosleeping! NO pink! NO hired childcare! YES Cry It Out! YES Daddy taking care of her half the time while I swanned about getting haircuts and going to the movies!) ended up being utter. complete. crap.

So...yeah...

April

October

Six months later...she's pretty much the best baby ever, and very forgiving of her slightly less clueless mama.

xoxo, A