Rambling Thoughts on a Life Unfinished

April 26, 2013

Rambling Thoughts on a Life Unfinished

 

Don’t say I didn’t warn you, this one might not be very pretty….my thoughts on my mom passing away are still all over the place and often lost in translation. I wanted to send her best friend an email a few months ago trying to explain my thoughts and feelings and I ended up deleting it because it didn’t make any sense when I reread it. So this probably won’t make sense either.

I won’t try to be too existentialist about this, but when I see human tragedy….the Sandy Hook shooting, Boston, the car accident that I had to detour around on my way to work…I feel it differently now.  Similar to how I saw all other children from a new perspective after P was born, but in a more raw/sad sort of way. Being a parent and losing a parent is a hard combo…one that a lot of the world goes through in a lifetime, it is the natural progression to become a parent and to hopefully outlive your own parents (and hope that your children outlive you), but I just was not ready. At all. We were supposed to be 62 and 82…silly old women who had figured life all out….my mom was supposed to get a chance to take a deep breath and relax a little. Not 52 and 32, I wasn’t ready.

I can’t just write a few sentences and explain the person my mom was…or how backwards it is in my head that just when the chess pieces were lining up again for her, it was all gone. 

My mom did not have an easy childhood, or adulthood for that matter. Her mom (my maternal grandmother) was killed in a car accident when she was 12.  She was one of six children in a farming household in Indiana.  There was not much money and her father (my maternal grandfather) was overwhelmed raising a house full of children on his own. My mom met my father in high school. He is, I suppose, the love of her life, but he is also a soul draining person…that a life of being married to him resulted in a fatal heart attack should not have been a surprise.  She was pregnant with me at 19 years old and had me when she was 20.  I remember turning 20 and telling my mom how mind blowing it was that when she was this age, she was a mom….and a really, really good one too. One of my humanities classes in college covered early childhood development and psychology. I was so amazed that techniques in my college textbooks for nurturing children were the exact things I remember doing with my mom as child…she was so natural at loving children. I had such a good mom.  My father struggles at being a human being, his moral compass is skewed. He did not deserve the effort that my mom poured into his life…she did not deserve the stress and heartache that he poured onto hers. 

My mom was The Giving Tree…and some days I look back and I want to kick myself for being the selfish child that took and took without realizing the tree was dying, and some days I know that my mom probably would not have had it any other way.  She was my horse show mom, birthing room masseuse (the epidural made my legs cold and tingly), best friend, sounding board, logical counterpart (at times I was hers), and the person who would follow me down a rabbit hole of a tangent that only we could understand (she was at my house last summer watching the Olympics with me and we had an extensive conversation about what Olympic sports we could still participate in…somehow, don’t ask how, we settled on synchronized swimming…it only made sense to us).  We spoke on the phone several times a week…I am not generally a phone person, but we could just talk…I don’t have anyone else in my life like that, I am often stuck inside my head these days. (ßSee? There I go again being selfish)

And she loved P…like as deeply as I loved him, she loved him, and he loved her. He lit up when she was around. The Sunday before she died, she came to the house to watch P so J and I could have a date night for his birthday.  She came in the early evening, P was in his high chair in the kitchen and she walked through the garage which opened into the laundry room and he could see her from his chair…he smiled the biggest smile and just bounced with happiness to see her at such an unexpected time. Like the greatest thing that could happen to him is to have her walk through the door. It physically hurts when I think that enough time has passed now that he probably doesn’t remember her and that he is missing out on such a wonderful person in his life.  When the topic of having another child gets brought up, I struggle with the thought of having a child that will never meet my mom, I struggle with the thought that the perfect delivery day scenario of my mom staying home with P and making him feel incredibly special and presenting the idea of meeting his new sibling in such a perfect way, and helping with the transition….will never happen. I feel like I want to tell P “Sorry kid, you are just stuck with us now” and J and I’s nurturing skills combined don’t hold a candle to how my mom was with kids.

So…the day my mom died she had a job interview with a company that was subcontractor in big construction. It was an accounting position.  She was so excited, she was incredibly qualified for the position, she had been out of work and looking for so long that she was feeling very defeated and like she had ‘aged out’ of being a competitive in the job market. I learned after she passed that her finances were in dire straits.  I knew things were very tight, but it was worse that she had let me know and this job came at just the right moment. Also, the previous week she had also been paid back a loan by a friend of hers from several years ago, money my mom never expected to get back…out of nowhere she paid my mom back.  So it kind of just ‘felt’ like things were going to be okay, like it was all starting to come together. Just before 11am on Tuesday, August 14^th 2012, I received a call from the company my mom was interviewing with…my mom had me saved as ‘my beautiful daughter’ in her phone…to say she had collapsed during her interview and was taken to the hospital but was non-responsive when she left. I remember so many details from that day. I remember songs that played on the radio during the hour and a half drive to the hospital, I remember the way she looked, I remember her hands, I remember the brief moment when J walked into the room holding P and I could see the spark of recognition in his eyes when he saw my mom and telling J to take him away.  I also remember my stupid logical brain running itself ragged trying to find the ‘reset’ button.  There had to be a way to undo this, there had to be.

Over 8 months later and my brain still does that. How can this person who loved life and children and me and my son not be here to see him grow up? How is it that I remember how she felt, what she looked like, what she smelled like, but all I have left of her are ashes and pictures? I want to turn back time and give her the shoulder massages she was always asking me for, or hold her hand in the car more often, hug her just a little longer, and listen with my intuition and know that she needed more help than she was asking for. I hate…like it makes me physically ill…that I know that her heart gave out because of stress, and even though I was not a direct cause, I could have been helping, I could have been more in tune with what was going on. I hate it.

Looking back, I wish we had had children sooner. I know anyone can examine their life and go ‘if I had known where I would be now, I would have done things so much differently’….but I definitely feel that way. If I had known that I would not be pursuing a scientific career right now, that I would be working in an office with a friend from college, then I would have gotten the ‘I must control the schedule of my life’ stick out of my ass when J brought up children years ago, if only to give my mom more time to be with them. P is so different now…he is a toddler now, he runs, his personality changes every day….and my mom would have loved seeing him growing up so very much. She would have called me just to discuss the latest cute thing he did and happily would have let him babble in toddler speak to her on the phone (one of his favorite things to do – but most people, including me sometimes, don’t have the patience to have fake conversations with an incoherent toddler on the phone).

My best friend is the talker in our relationship and I am the listener. My mom’s best friend was the talker in their relationship and my mom was the listener. I think (hope) that my mom felt like I was a listener for her as well as her for me….but when I try to look at it in reality, she was probably also my listener too, so I could have a relationship where I was the talker (which makes me sad because I don’t want to think that my mom was always the listener….everyone needs a person where they can be the talker). My husband thinks he is a listener, but he is not. He is a guy. He wants the Cliff’s Notes version of all things, not the 20 pros and cons of what the hell to do with my horse. So while I know I can call my best friend, or my mom’s best friend, or talk to my husband….it is just awkward, and not natural, and it feels like I need a lot of set up to make them understand what the hell I am talking about. It sucks. This sucks.

How is that for rambling and being sad? I think I am going to set this aside for right now. I could keep starting new paragraphs with snippets of memories or why my mind just won’t accept that she is gone, that she won’t walk through the door one evening while P is in his highchair and life will just give us another chance….but it cannot be good reading and it is emotionally exhausting. So for now I need to post this and revisit the individual thoughts and stories as we go along…..life unfinished.

 

 

Almost an Entire Trip Around the Sun

April 25, 2013

Almost an Entire Trip Around the Sun

So remember when I warned you that I might do this blogging thing in fits and spurts? Yeah.

I will try to give you the Cliff’s Notes version of the events between last summer and now, but even the summary is bound to get verbose, so hang in there.

 My last post was about my breastmilk supply fading. That continued.  P nursed until about 13-14 months, but not full-time anymore.  We supplemented with formula and it was fine, of course. Ultimately P’s laid-back personality was a wonderful benefit as his transition from breastmilk to formula supplementation to whole milk was smooth and for all intents and purposes he self-weaned, which is what I truly wanted (I think he would have happily nursed longer if my body would have played ball and hung in there better….but as you are about to see, life kicked me in the gut a bit during this time and I shut down some….producing milk was not my body’s top priority).

 

In July we went on a family vacation to Blue Ridge, GA.  This is a favorite, inexpensive destination for us as we have friends with a beautiful cabin there and it is a 10 hour drive, so no flying required!

We had a wonderful time, but I will say as a general statement, that vacationing with a child is WAY different than vacationing as a childless couple.  Definitely more sober and less restful.

 

August. I have A LOT of emotions tied up in August of 2012 and I am sure I will have to revisit that particular month again later with a more introspective post, but we have ground to cover, so I will keep it brief for now. 

So on August 4^th was P’s Very Hungry Caterpillar 1^st Birthday party. It was wonderful. August 7^th was his actual birthday.  On the 12^th, a Sunday, my mom came to town in the evening to stay with P so J and I could have a ‘date-night’ for his birthday, which was the next day, the 13^th.

On Tuesday, August 14^th, my mom had a job interview for an accounting job that she was very excited about.  She had been out of work since being laid off when the economy collapsed (she worked in big construction and that was not the place to be when companies stop building). During her interview she collapsed. She had an aortic aneurysm and she died. She was 52.

I could write and write (and write) about her and it would not do justice to our relationship, or the bond she had with P, or how much I hate it, every day that she is gone.

So, for the rest of my life, in the period between August 7^th and August 14^th, I will celebrate my son’s life, my husband’s life and mourn my mother’s death.  She would hate it. I hate it.  She would just hate to know how it all happened and how close it is to P’s birthday.  I get irrationally upset when I think about how sad it would make my mom to know about the details of her own death….how’s that for morbid circular logic?

 

I have to go back to that later or I will just stay there for this whole post and we will all be stuck in August 2012.

 

From there, we kind of sprint forward to now. 

In December, instead of spending Christmas at home, J insisted we go to Blue Ridge…mostly to get me somewhere mentally neutral since not having my mom around was going to be rough, and it was. My best friend and her son and husband came too; it was as good as it could have been all things considered.

 

In the last 4 months: I turned 33; one of my best friends had her first baby, a daughter; my cousin in Indiana (the one who we visited for her wedding when my mom and I went to Indy last May) had her first baby, also a daughter; we went to visit my Aunt in Ohio (my mom’s sister); and J and I put an offer in on what will hopefully be the first home we own.

 

Some general catch up: I DID sell my pony to a wonderful home in south Florida!  Now I am trying to sell my personal horse, Reese…time and finances and parenthood do not lend very well to horse ownership.  It is sad, but the responsible thing to do (being an adult really sucks sometimes!).  I still work for the citrus company and I still get frustrated sometimes and check the job boards for microbiologist positions that are open, but overall I am comfortable with my job decision for now.  J and I keep debating the second child possibility.  His age and finances are the big considerations for NO (and the fact that until 8 months ago when my mom died, I was very happy being an only child).  However, the fact that P does not have a lot of living family and the fact that I think that deep down J really wants another baby are pulling me towards the YES side of the argument more and more.  We’ll see.

 

I think, in a nutshell, that is as good as it gets for right now.  Hopefully I can bring us all some clarity on the details in some future posts.  Sorry for the lack of funny or witty in this one, it was a kind of necessary to just plow through the timeline and the sad stuff to get back up to date.

 

Tatas

June 19, 2012

Tatas…mourning the beginning of the end of my breastfeeding journey (I think).

So when I found out I was pregnant, I was like “I am going to try and be a good parent (props for an obvious goal there?) and raise a healthy child to the best of my means and ability”.

Then….I started reading, and obsessing, and I got into the slow period of work last summer (when everyone left me the F alone and I actually had a relaxing summer) and I was like “I am totally breastfeeding, at least until 6 months!”   I had always planned to try and breastfeed, but the more I read, the more I wanted to try and sustain this goal. The ‘at least 6 months’ part meant I would have to pump at work (since I only had the first 3 months at home). Luckily my BFF had purchased the mac daddy of the breast pumps and then was not able to breastfeed for more than 6 weeks, so she told me I was welcome to use it (score!). (BTW I do NOT need any input on the use of a breast pump by more than one user…got it, I read the disclaimer)

So listen, I KNOW that breastfeeding is hard for many, impossible for some, and I applaud all who try it.  Don’t hate, but overall it was easy for me.  Looking back there are some mistakes I made (not building a freezer stash when I had oversupply is now a big one I am kicking myself in the ass for), but overall the major hurdles we took in stride.  P had a good latch from the start; I only had a clogged duct once and while painful for 24 hours, it went away rather uneventfully; pumping sucks (no pun intended) but I am making it work…..until the last two weeks.

P is right at 10 ½ months old and has only had breast milk (and a little goats milk in his cereal), so I know I more than exceeded my 6 month goal…but my 6 month goal quickly became a 12 month goal, which has become “I’ll wean when he is ready to wean” goal. But the last few weeks my supply has just been tanking.  It is making me depressed and in turn that depression is making my supply worse.  The BIG question that I cannot quite figure out is WHY??  I am sad to admit that I truly believe this bull $h!t being babysat at HR work schedule is mostly to blame.

This is not just me bellyaching (it is mostly me truly aching). I truly think this is the reason for the downfall of my ’12 months on only breast milk’ goal.  My body was on a sweet routine for a while. I was waking up with P and nursing, going to work, pumping a decent amount to get him through the middle of the next day and then storing what was left over on Fridays.  I was even pumping enough extra in the evenings on the weekends to almost be set for Mondays.  No more.

I am tired all. the. time. Now that I get up too early to see P in the morning, I have to pump super early.  Also I am pumping in someone’s office at work and I can’t get on the computer in that room and I can’t get my mind to just shut off and relax. So for the last week I have been getting ONE session where I actually get a decent amount (decent now = 4oz…that used to be a sucky amountL) and if I am running late in the morning or I am just particularly unhappy to be awake, I have been struggling in the mornings as well (plus throw in some random middle of the night wake ups by P and I am toast).

As of Monday my freezer supply is gone. This made me cry.  Writing this post makes me cry.  Using the formula samples in my pantry that have been mocking me the past few weeks when I realized I was not keeping up….makes me cry.

I am completely aware that in the big picture, this is far from being a tragedy.  P can still nurse, we just have to supplement until 12 months when we can start incorporating cow’s milk.  Also, the success I have had to this point is an accomplishment, especially with pumping and working.  It does not change that I feel like my body is letting me down and that I was not prepared to NOT do this on P’s terms, not because I couldn’t keep up.  It also does not change the (possibly irrational) anger I feel towards my job right now.  That is a whole other post for another day, but getting up at 5:30am to sit at a completely unfulfilling job until 4pm and not get home to see P until 5pm is starting to wear thin, fast.  Anxiety and almost tears three times a day when I am again disappointed by a pathetic pumping session definitely does not help.

I am done. This too shall pass. Vacation is in two weeks.

Jury Duty

June 4, 2012

Jury Duty

SO on the way to the airport with my mom and P to go to Indianapolis the other week, J (husband) hands me a piece of mail and says ‘Oh yeah, I almost threw this away, I’m so sorry’.  It was a jury summons for 8am on Monday morning, the day after I returned home.

Now, I have to be honest, aside from the timing being a little rushed; I was sort of excited about my jury summons.  I have never been called for jury duty and I was curious about the process and to see why everyone dreaded it so much. Plus, work is SO slow right now, so it was at least something interesting to occupy my time for a day or two. My only major concern was how I was going to pump (I am still breastfeeding), but I had some milk in the freezer, so it was not the end of the world.

Monday was a cattle call for all intents and purposes. I wish I had brought a book because it was so very boring.  We checked in and sat in an auditorium where eventually we were separated into ‘pools’ and shown a video on how great jury service was and that our civic duty was part of our freedoms as Americans (blah, blah, blah…..not that I disagree, but it was just so corny).  When we took a break, one of the people organizing this step of the process was able to provide a private area for me to pump, score!

After many unnecessary breaks and explanations, my group was brought to the floor of the courtroom where we would be evaluated for a potential case.  This case was to run for one day, the next day, and was a criminal case between the state and a young man charged with driving with no license and providing a counterfeit license.  Pretty straight up, right?  I was thinking that there had to be some interesting ‘L&O’ twist that would possess this guy to plead not guilty AND for his attorney to be like ‘Sure, we’ll fight this, no prob!’

I could write a dissertation on all the things that surprised me and made me shake my head.  The waiting was not surprising, and in fact, was probably about as efficient as it COULD be done, it just sucked.  The seriousness with which people expressed their flimsy get-out-of-jury-duty excuses was entertaining.  Many times I was like ‘Really, REALLY? You’re going to run with that one as your reason you can’t be partial?’

I, of course, was selected to be a juror.  At first I was a little bummed, until I realized that I was free to eat lunch and go home and the poor bastards that came up with lame excuses to get out of being selected had to come back in the afternoon to see if they were eligible to be selected for a different case.  Plus, like I said before, part of me was more curious than displeased (aside from all the waiting).

Tuesday morning things were totally official (I felt like a dork wearing my ‘Juror #567890’ sticker on my shirt, but whatev).  Still lots of waiting, but now we got to hear all the juicy details about the Spanish kid and the fake ID (that he plead not guilty to).

So here’s the Cliff’s Notes version:

-          Kid (we’ll call him a kid, he was like, 22) gets pulled over for not wearing a seatbelt.  (**The defense acts like she is going to challenge the original encounter with the cop, but fizzles and goes nowhere with it…it was frustrating and confusing**).  The kid does not produce an ID right away and he gives the cop a different name than the cop gets when he runs the plates on the car.

-          When the arresting officer questions the kid’s identity, the kid then pulls out an ID from Honduras to prove he is who he says he is.

-          The cop questions the validity of this ID and scans the ID for confirmation from another cop (who specializes in counterfeit IDs) and with confirmation it is in fact fake and arrests the kid.

So, seriously, that is it. No $h!t.

Some background info:

-          The state’s attorney provides us with the actual license to look at, a blown up version of the ID (**but NO picture of a valid Honduras DL**), the testimony from the arresting officer, the testimony from the officer that confirmed the ID was invalid, and a school official that stated that the kid was in school the date the DL was supposedly issued IN HONDURAS (**However, the school official did not actually work at the school on this date, she just printed out the attendance records…..BUT the defense never questioned whether the attendance record and her client were one in the same person, so we assume that record is legit**)

-          The defense questions the arresting officer and when she has her client testify (**big mistake**) she asks him questions that point out some discrepancies in the story of the arrest, but she never straight out says that she is trying to get the arrest itself thrown out, we are never directed to consider that, so it all mostly seems in vain.

-          It is almost painfully obvious this ID is fake. What possessed this kid to present it as real is beyond me.  I know we don’t all have common law knowledge at our fingertips and in a panic people do stupid things. However, if he just did not present an ID at all, it would have been a misdemeanor charge of driving with no license.  Slap on the wrist, learn English, try to become a citizen and stop wasting tax payer money.  Instead, the kid not only produces a terrible fake ID, HE TESTIFIES in court the outrageous story of how his uncle got it for him, how he used a PEN on his thumb to apply the thumbprint on the back, USED CORRECTION FLUID to fix it, and signed his own name to it AFTER it was brought to the US for him.  HIS attorney was asking the questions, it was a disaster.

-          SO….the closing arguments consisted of the state basically saying use your brain and the defense trying to argue that the kid genuinely thought the ID was real (**she had all but given up on the lesser charge at this point**)

So, we deliberated for maybe 15-20 minutes.  I was selected the foreman, and we agreed the kid was guilty (no duh).  I can see you are as impressed as I was (mostly that I was selected to be foreman, woo hoo!).

 

Fly Over States

May 24, 2012

Fly Over States

So in my last post I mentioned my impending trip to Indiana for my cousin’s wedding.  I have been home since Monday, but I am just now getting my wits about me and emerging from the tunnel that was flightàfamilyàflightàhomeàjury dutyàwork catch up.

For the flight TO Indiana, I was prepared for anything: crying baby, restless baby, meltdowns, etc.  I had stuffed as much toys, food, books, snacks as I could into the diaper bag to take on the plane.  So what happened?  P nursed right after take-off and slept the ENTIRE flight.  Aside from my leg falling asleep because I dare not move, it was perfect.  However, my mom and I were just a little bored; we brought nothing to entertain ourselves because we were prepared to entertain P the whole time.

For the flight HOME:  We were now prepared for a sleeping baby, we even brought books to read (we should have known better).  It was sort of close to afternoon nap time, P needed to nurse and he had an action-packed week, surely he was ready to sleep in the great white-noise tunnel in the sky again, right? WRONG.  He must have caught wind of the fact that he missed an entire ‘vacation event’ the first time around and he was not missing it this time.  Thankfully he was happy for the most part, but he was all over the place.  He wanted to play and climb and flirt with people and eat puffs and nurse, but not sleep.  It was draining for my mom and me, but again, he was happy, so overall travelling with the baby was a success.

Our stay in Indiana was awesome.  Yes, Indiana...corn fields, small towns, flat land, and endless back roads…was awesome.  We saw family and introduced P to relatives I haven’t seen in years.  It was so nice to go ‘home’ (Indiana is more my parent’s home than mine, I am an Ohio/Illinois child, but the Midwest feel is the same, plus we spent a lot of time and miles between those three states when I was a kid) and have people that just know you and love you welcome you into their homes and make you feel special for a few days. P thought he was a celebaby…the world was his oyster and he was all over it.

Over the last two decades I have maybe become too anti-Florida, and I know that there are people who plan their whole lives to come here and retire or even come here and work and build businesses.  It just isn’t my cup of American tea.  I could take or leave the beach, it’s pretty, but it is also sandy and sweaty and salty and hot.  Plus, I have never lived near the beach; I have always lived in the middle. I loved Gainesville when I went to college, but mostly because it was a cool college town, not because it offered anything particularly special geographically or seasonally.  I am a mountain, river, cabin type of person; it is where I find peace.

So not that Indiana has mountains, but we stayed at my uncle’s cabin on a lake.  It was down endless winding roads and the first night there offered cool enough weather to have a fire.  I was in heaven.  The air felt fresh and crisp and even the hot sun on my cousin’s wedding day felt better than the Florida sun somehow…see, I told you I have ‘the grass is greener’ syndrome!

Bipolar Oranges

I work in the citrus industry…not doing research (we’ll get to that later). For 4 to 5 months out of the year (right around the holidays) your brain is toast, you are so busy that each morning you prioritize your to-do list into:
1.Must be Done NOW
2.Must be Done Today
3.The World Won’t End if This Isn’t Done Today and
4.Can Probably Be Done Tomorrow…and each evening you re-evaluate your list to see where you are a failure and how much you will want to kick your own ass in the morning for not finishing something important, but you must, MUST go home and rest your brain and see your husband and your baby and eat real food.
However, you are rewarded for enduring this, during an already busy and stressful time of year (did I mention that Florida Citrus and Thanksgiving/Christmas/New Year’s all run together, like a sadistic gang?) by having a long and glorious spring/summer of down time. Sure you crunch numbers and make plans and changes for next season, but that stuff is child’s play, a well-trained monkey could do it.

My direct boss is a really great friend from college (who is also a guy, and we’ve always been just friends, resist the urge to call BS on me, it’s true) and his philosophy on the whole thing is that as long as the work that needs to be done in the off-season gets done, he doesn’t care about office hours or filling out HR forms to account for every move you make, just get your job done when it needs to be done and enjoy the quiet time. He thinks this creates a workplace where you WANT to give it your all during season because you have that pot of gold end of the rainbow thing to look forward to. He kicks ass. This is a big part of why I am working with him and NOT in a lab.

Unfortunately, he is not ultimately responsible for cutting my paychecks. Between him and my paycheck is an HR department and gossipy office hens (and gossipy office roosters for that matter).

Because of the seasonal nature of this industry, the majority of the hourly employees are laid off in the summer and come back in the fall. A handful of staff are on salary and work all year. I am on salary; it was one of my conditions of taking the job. Also on salary are some sales guys, HR staff, IT, and upper management. A few of these people live close (not me, I drive an hour each way, whatev) and apparently have no desire to be at home…they arrive early, leave late, and can’t POSSIBLY have that much work to do in the off season, they just prefer to be at work than at home. They can suck it.

I know that you know where I am going with this…this is NOT me. I have a husband that I actually like spending time with and a 9 month old that is pretty awesome. I also have a house that always needs to be cleaned, doggies, a horse and 50 other things I would rather be doing during my slow time at work than sitting in my office, surfing the internet (that IT has basically on lockdown, so it’s not like I can look at anything entertaining) and listening to country music (the only radio station that will tune in…since I can’t listen to internet radio, FU IT). Again, D, my boss could give two $hiots, he’s all like ‘Make sure the accounting spreadsheet is done and play hooky on Friday’ and I’m all like ‘Cool beans, it’s finished, have a great weekend, peace out’.

Until yesterday. Yesterday he calls and he’s more like ‘You won’t like this’ and I’m like ‘Lay it on me’. Apparently someone who likes to come to work for too many hours and surf the internet and listen to country music got a burr up their ass about the lack of structure in my schedule. They complained/gossiped enough that the CEO of the company (seriously people?) called D and said ‘Look, we love S, she is a hard worker and we could give two $hiots what her schedule is, but she is on salary and some people are complaining/gossiping about her coming and going when she pleases’. It should be noted here that D is NEVER in the office during the offseason, but he’s the head of our department and makes the company a nice chuck of change so they can shove it (plus he has ME to be the patsy who drives in each day to say ‘see, our department works all year too, bite us’).

So at least for the immediate time being I have to play nice and arrive somewhat on time and not slink out ridiculously early….and fill out the HR forms for days where I just don’t want to come in at all. It’s all good though, this is part of the reason I started this blog…that’s funny, you don’t actually think I can access my blog from work do you, remember IT lock down? I write on WORD (to yo motha) and email it myself to post at night (lame-o). This will also give me plenty of time to marinate in self-evaluation of my life and peek around the scientific job market (these can be dangerous things, I tend to get dark and gloomy when I ponder my non-scientific career path for too long…especially this time of the month…ew, not that, it’s when my student loan payment hits my bank account). I can also research to death parenting methods and child development and baby food making recipes and toys and preschools and the endless amount of online resources that basically make you feel like a failure as a parent (until IT decides that parenting websites should be on lockdown as well).

I know, I know, I KNOW…be happy I have a secure job in today’s economy, collect my paycheck and stop bitching, got it. Tomorrow I’ll be getting scanned by TSA, I’ll have stories from the Midwest when I return. Oh yeah, and my pony is being looked at today, pray to the pony selling gods…NOW!

Leaving on a Jetplane

My Impending ‘Air Travel with Baby’ Experience:

Yep, in two short days I am going to be that person with the baby on the airplane. Awesome. I am hoping that since we are going to Indianapolis, on a Wednesday, in the middle of May, that maybe just maybe we won’t have a full flight and I can be the pariah in the back (by the toilets, of course) with my mom trying to help me entertain a 9 month old who has recently discovered crawling and climbing (and thinks that both are far superior to sitting still).

It is Monday, I am working today and tomorrow, and when I get home it is all P all the time until he goes to bed around 8pm. I have not packed for me or for P yet, I am thinking this should start tonight. In an effort to be cheap (my budget is stretched so thin this month you can see through it), I decided to travel with P’s cloth diapers and not buy disposables. While this is totally do-able (we are staying with family who has already said I could use their washer and dryer) it does take a little bit of extra planning. Mostly I just have to juggle getting the diapers and all the clothes I want to bring clean, dried and packed by Tuesday night. Easy peasy right? Sure, if I wasn’t currently sitting in my favorite jeans and a shirt I want to bring with (mental note: wear ugly clothes to work tomorrow). I also need to put some serious thought into the most important packing task at hand: what to put in the diaper bag that I will carry on the plane. I have to walk that fine line between sacrificing bag space for something P might find amusing and potentially leaving out that one key item that could have saved us all tears and frustration. Throw in the ‘what will TSA seize at the security check, because my blonde baby looks like a potential terrorist’ factor and let the fun begin.

Wish me luck, and my apologies ahead of time to anyone travelling from Tampa to Indianapolis on Wednesday.