I feel like writing a letter to the people of the world telling them to stop riding my buns. There's a perfect storm of annoying situations in my professional life right now -- faceless bureaucracies, hopefully pushing the papers I want them to push and agreeing with my conclusions (which, unfortunately, require them to think about atypical circumstances). Unresponsive administrations who give me notice of meetings one day ahead of time, BY MAIL. Creditors (not mine!) who send nastygrams (yes, that's what attorneys call them). Whiny people who call me constantly and do not listen to the words that come out of my mouth, or worse, give me totally wrong info, requiring me to call other attorneys and set the record straight. Professional association flunkeys who take their frustrations out on me because I'm the low man on the totem pole. I could think of more, but I will limit it to the people I dealt with today.
I feel like I've been kicked in the nose by a horse. And then, after it's all over, we go through The Gauntlet, as I call my toddler's bedtime ritual. There's an ever-growing number of items he requires before he is able to relax. Right now, we are up to five matchbox cars, two blankets, his bottle, and maybe any number of other things. Slippers. Daddy, mommy -- whoever is absent. More stories. Lights on and/or off.
And then, finally, I get him into his crib. I turn around, and he says, "I'm wet, mama. Mama, I'm wet. I'm wet, mama. Mama, I'm wet..." while grabbing his crotch and pulling a face.
This is the kid who insists he hasn't shat as it squirts onto the floor. No, not really. But it smells like it has, and the little twit looks balefully at me, "No. I'm OK, mama. Mama, I'm OK. No dirty, mama. Mama, I'm OK ...."
*sigh* And there is a trickle of pee in the diaper, after all. Not the forty pounds of urine a diaper can hold, but. And then he tells me he needs to use the potty. And then he needs privacy. And to stand up.
AND THERE'S PEE ALL OVER OR JUST TWO DROPS AND MY HUSBAND HASN'T COME HOME YET AND I CAN'T STAND IT ANYMORE!
(panting).
I don't know. Perhaps this is just hormones. All I know is, I do not feel normal. I feel like ripping a person in half. Example: toddler and I were at the library today. We were the only people in the children's floor (the 2nd floor of the library), excepting the librarian. The kids' section has these toddler video games and toddler wanted to play and I was at my wits' end, so I allowed it. They had a little set of headphones at each computer station for the kids to use -- but the problem was, the instructions were only verbal, over the speakers, so I couldn't help kiddo to play because I had no idea what we were supposed to do. So, I unplugged the headphone jack. The computer's volume was pretty quiet -- I'm sure no one heard it except the librarian, who couldn't tell where it was coming from (we were about five feet away). After I waved to her and explained, she told me that the rules were that only headphone jacks could be used.
After I had plugged the kid back in and utterly failed to help him, I told her that I thought it was silly to insist upon a rule's being followed when making an exception didn't bother anyone. She said, "I'm a substitute for the day, so... Lots of libraries have two jacks, so you can splice in."
I let my face do the talking. But as we left she told me to have a nice day, and she almost lost her life right then. It took everything I had not to rip her a new one right there. I don't like tat expression, but in this case it was totally apt. Is it stupid? Yes. Should I get over it? Yes. Is this unbecoming? YES. So please tell me why I've spent the last hour thinking of things I could have said to ruin her day.
Monday, April 6, 2009
Wednesday, March 25, 2009
Quickie
The house is on the market and, y'know, so far it's not as hard to keep the house in show condition as it was to make all the repairs necessary to put it on the market. It's been on the market for about a week and a half and we have had four showings.
Buying this house was our first experience with real estate and we really felt screwed. It was just after our first kid was born and we had to find a house before our lease expired. I clearly remember breastfeeding while walking through properties. In retrospect, I think our realtor saw us coming and kind of took advantage. I remember looking at the decrepit kitchen cabinets in the house we now own and him telling me it was the charm of an old house. What the? No, it was plywood cabinets made in the 1960's. Anyway, we didn't fight too much -- too sleep deprived, I think.
So now we were hoping that, as prospective buyers, we would not feel taken advantage of. But WE DO! It's the same old story -- oh, so hard to find something in your price range. BUT THEN, on the other hand, we are following the sales listing in our markets, and we are seeing other houses that look awesome -- not a ton, but a few -- that are being sold for cheap. Arrrrgghh.
I'm not going to worry too much about what other people are doing, because we'll sell the house for as much as we can and that's that. I've decided instead to focus on working our realtor to the bone trying to find the sweet deals we didn't when we bought before.
SHEESH!
In all other respects life is going well. Our boy is growing well and can put five word sentences together, which we find impressive. I am swelling bigger and bigger in preparation for June 21, our due date. I juuuust got to the point where I can't pick things off the floor very well. This is not so good with a toddler whose favorite form of rebellion is lying prostate and screaming. Perhaps I should carry a long stick to poke him with.
Buying this house was our first experience with real estate and we really felt screwed. It was just after our first kid was born and we had to find a house before our lease expired. I clearly remember breastfeeding while walking through properties. In retrospect, I think our realtor saw us coming and kind of took advantage. I remember looking at the decrepit kitchen cabinets in the house we now own and him telling me it was the charm of an old house. What the? No, it was plywood cabinets made in the 1960's. Anyway, we didn't fight too much -- too sleep deprived, I think.
So now we were hoping that, as prospective buyers, we would not feel taken advantage of. But WE DO! It's the same old story -- oh, so hard to find something in your price range. BUT THEN, on the other hand, we are following the sales listing in our markets, and we are seeing other houses that look awesome -- not a ton, but a few -- that are being sold for cheap. Arrrrgghh.
I'm not going to worry too much about what other people are doing, because we'll sell the house for as much as we can and that's that. I've decided instead to focus on working our realtor to the bone trying to find the sweet deals we didn't when we bought before.
SHEESH!
In all other respects life is going well. Our boy is growing well and can put five word sentences together, which we find impressive. I am swelling bigger and bigger in preparation for June 21, our due date. I juuuust got to the point where I can't pick things off the floor very well. This is not so good with a toddler whose favorite form of rebellion is lying prostate and screaming. Perhaps I should carry a long stick to poke him with.
Thursday, February 19, 2009
The light draws nearer
Sorry it's been so long, guys. I was thinking an anon blog would allow me to blog more freely, thus more often, but things have been a little bleak around here and who wants to hear it, really. I forgot if I said already -- we've decided (1 1/2 years after buying our house) to downsize. We ... just ... can't ... do ... it. And the pressure of being house-poor is phenomenal. You know things are dire when you almost cry with gratitude when the librarian cancells your $6.00 fine, y'all.
How I wish that were an exaggeration.
The bright side is that once we are through this process we'll be in a much better place, barring catastrophe, to do normal people things. Like buy maternity clothes. Or cut our hair. Or go on an occasional trip.
I can't wait. But until then, we are scrimping, and painting, and cleaning. So, as I said, a *little* bleak.
BTW, did you know that when you paint a lot, your gas oven can smell like lighter fluid when it lights because it's burning the fumes from the drying paint? My first thought when I was making lunch yesterday was crumb, there's no way a potential purchaser's home inspector will miss that smell. Will we have to buy a new oven, too? But no, the smell is temporary and goes away when the paint has dried. Crisis averted.
Finally, a funny thing: today I let the kid use a small pair of real scissors (very closely supervised, of course). I was watching him and thinking, "this must be what teaching your kid to drive is like." All my instincts were like, danger! danger! But properly supervised -- making sure he did it safely -- it was alright.
My rules for regular scissors, BTW:
1. Only when supervised by me.
2. Only when sittng at the table.
3. The hand not holding the scissors cannot touch the paper while the scissors are cutting (this means lots of fringe).
4. You must say, "very carefully!" before every snip.
5. The snips must be slow (to make sure my hand is out of the way).
How I wish that were an exaggeration.
The bright side is that once we are through this process we'll be in a much better place, barring catastrophe, to do normal people things. Like buy maternity clothes. Or cut our hair. Or go on an occasional trip.
I can't wait. But until then, we are scrimping, and painting, and cleaning. So, as I said, a *little* bleak.
BTW, did you know that when you paint a lot, your gas oven can smell like lighter fluid when it lights because it's burning the fumes from the drying paint? My first thought when I was making lunch yesterday was crumb, there's no way a potential purchaser's home inspector will miss that smell. Will we have to buy a new oven, too? But no, the smell is temporary and goes away when the paint has dried. Crisis averted.
Finally, a funny thing: today I let the kid use a small pair of real scissors (very closely supervised, of course). I was watching him and thinking, "this must be what teaching your kid to drive is like." All my instincts were like, danger! danger! But properly supervised -- making sure he did it safely -- it was alright.
My rules for regular scissors, BTW:
1. Only when supervised by me.
2. Only when sittng at the table.
3. The hand not holding the scissors cannot touch the paper while the scissors are cutting (this means lots of fringe).
4. You must say, "very carefully!" before every snip.
5. The snips must be slow (to make sure my hand is out of the way).
Saturday, January 24, 2009
Adventures in Pottyland
Our kid (who just turned two) has expressed a lot of interest in the potty as of late. Off the top of my head, some of the signs are: beginning to tell me when his diaper's dirty; trying to "pee" standing up in the bathtub; asking the daycare workers if the potty is in the bathroom; etc. etc. So. The daycare employees suggested to me that I start training while he has an interest -- apparently if you don't jump on it the interest abates, and then it's hard to get them out of diapers.
So yesterday -- an half an hour after the day care people told me about interest abating -- I picked up a potty. I figured we would open it up Saturday, talk about it a little...
No. The kid saw the box as I carried him in the door, and immediately, "potty! potty!" Let's take it out of the box. OK, I figure -- I can show him how it works. Oh no. Kid already knows! He pulls out the plastic removable cup that holds the goods and pretends to empty it in the kitchen sink (yuck, day care! Is this what you do? Surely not. Too "Big Love" for me.). Then he wants to try it out, RIGHT NOW. So I strip him in the kitchen and watch while he sits on the pot. I can't help it -- I'm pregnant -- I grab a slice of the pizza I'd baked that was cooling off on the counter and eye him.
He says he's peed. Oh reallly. But by golly, HE HAS! Just a couple of drops, but still -- success! OK, now we really do need to go upstairs. Except that kiddo is leaping on and off the pot to see if he can have any more success.
An half hour later, we make it upstairs and empty the potty. It turns out the kid is like our family dog -- he can really make a bladder last a while. (My mother made a game of counting how many times our dog peed on her walks -- the record was 28.) I explain that he'll make more pee.
Suffice it to say, we have been spending a lot of time in the bathroom the last two days. He still has to figure out that he can hold it, and then have one long whiz, instead of just sitting there and trying when he doesn't really have to go. I have kind of tried to explain, but this wasn't one of our best days, even with the excitement of the potty, and his screams kind of drowned me out. (Caillou first! Bottle! More potty! No outside -- cold! Want Daddy!). But I think he will get the picture soon, and then I will be in HEAVEN...
... until June, when the next one arrives.
So yesterday -- an half an hour after the day care people told me about interest abating -- I picked up a potty. I figured we would open it up Saturday, talk about it a little...
No. The kid saw the box as I carried him in the door, and immediately, "potty! potty!" Let's take it out of the box. OK, I figure -- I can show him how it works. Oh no. Kid already knows! He pulls out the plastic removable cup that holds the goods and pretends to empty it in the kitchen sink (yuck, day care! Is this what you do? Surely not. Too "Big Love" for me.). Then he wants to try it out, RIGHT NOW. So I strip him in the kitchen and watch while he sits on the pot. I can't help it -- I'm pregnant -- I grab a slice of the pizza I'd baked that was cooling off on the counter and eye him.
He says he's peed. Oh reallly. But by golly, HE HAS! Just a couple of drops, but still -- success! OK, now we really do need to go upstairs. Except that kiddo is leaping on and off the pot to see if he can have any more success.
An half hour later, we make it upstairs and empty the potty. It turns out the kid is like our family dog -- he can really make a bladder last a while. (My mother made a game of counting how many times our dog peed on her walks -- the record was 28.) I explain that he'll make more pee.
Suffice it to say, we have been spending a lot of time in the bathroom the last two days. He still has to figure out that he can hold it, and then have one long whiz, instead of just sitting there and trying when he doesn't really have to go. I have kind of tried to explain, but this wasn't one of our best days, even with the excitement of the potty, and his screams kind of drowned me out. (Caillou first! Bottle! More potty! No outside -- cold! Want Daddy!). But I think he will get the picture soon, and then I will be in HEAVEN...
... until June, when the next one arrives.
Thursday, January 15, 2009
Wall(s)
As in, "hitting a wall."
Gee, guys, I do wish I had lots of good news to report. But sadly, no. Instead I am stuck digging our family out of a hole.
Fiscal prudence is something I am really not that great at. My dad is used to thinking I am good at it, but that's not really true. He's basing his understanding on the fact that when I was younger I scraped by on very little and then I inherited some money, so I've never had to ask him. Well, once, I was in desparate straits (like, virtually homeless) and I asked him for a loan, but he said no, I had to suffer the consequences of my actions, blah blah blah. So what does he know?
Anyway, that inheritance I mentioned was big. It paid for my law school and living expenses, it paid for my wedding, it paid for a wicked safari to Africa (I think the best money I spent), it paid the down payment on our house and has been supplementing my husband's income while he worked his way up the ranks and while I get established as a solo attorney.
And now? It's almost gone.
So, I decided to sit down and have a really good look at our finances. Query: will the money last until our joint incomes are enough to support us? Answer: if everything went our way, and we dramatically cut our expenses, ... maybe.
So, after some sleepless nights, much pencil-waggling, and tearful conversations, my husband and I decided we'd have to sell the house. The one we bought about a year and a half ago.
The good news is that the realtors think they will be able to sell it for what we paid for it. The bad news is that we'll still lose a lot of money. Another "pro" is that we will finally be living in a house that we can afford, which means we will have discretionary income, for stuff like maternity clothes and vacations. (Give me a bone. A modest vacation later this year is all that's keeping me going right now.) Maybe our gas bill won't be over four hundred bucks in the winter (and that's with a house at 67.)
A "con" is that it will be work. A lot of work. For me to do, mostly by myself, as my husband works overtime during the actuarial busy season and studies for his next exam in May. For me to do after I do all the cooking, errands, and child care, plus the daily cleaning tasks. So pretty much, what I can't fit in during the day, in between, oh, practicing law, I will be doing after 9 p.m.
AND I CAN'T WAIT!
Seriously, I've been throwing a major pity party for myself over here. And the day-to-day stuff of life hasn't been easy, either. For example, I think my toddler has hidden my car keys. I think I remember seeing him this morning with them and thinking "oh.." right before I had to do something else. Aaanyway, they are in his intestinal tract (not really), or another dimension, or something. I looked for them for four hours today, scouring the house, searching all the toy bins, all the drawers, all the trash cans, everything. Nada. But of course this was AFTER I locked us out in the snow, and had to break one of the panes of glass in our back door to get in. And had to summon my husband home to let me borrow his car keys, since we have a keyless car (with a keyless thing that's $100 to replace). And screamed at my kid, causing him to follow me around, saying, "Mama? Mama?" pitifully.
So, there's a piece of cling wrap keeping out the icy icy draft, and there's another project for me to do! (I was thinking of replacing the pane -- it was cracked -- but it would be nice to choose if and when, you know?)
Ugh.
Gee, guys, I do wish I had lots of good news to report. But sadly, no. Instead I am stuck digging our family out of a hole.
Fiscal prudence is something I am really not that great at. My dad is used to thinking I am good at it, but that's not really true. He's basing his understanding on the fact that when I was younger I scraped by on very little and then I inherited some money, so I've never had to ask him. Well, once, I was in desparate straits (like, virtually homeless) and I asked him for a loan, but he said no, I had to suffer the consequences of my actions, blah blah blah. So what does he know?
Anyway, that inheritance I mentioned was big. It paid for my law school and living expenses, it paid for my wedding, it paid for a wicked safari to Africa (I think the best money I spent), it paid the down payment on our house and has been supplementing my husband's income while he worked his way up the ranks and while I get established as a solo attorney.
And now? It's almost gone.
So, I decided to sit down and have a really good look at our finances. Query: will the money last until our joint incomes are enough to support us? Answer: if everything went our way, and we dramatically cut our expenses, ... maybe.
So, after some sleepless nights, much pencil-waggling, and tearful conversations, my husband and I decided we'd have to sell the house. The one we bought about a year and a half ago.
The good news is that the realtors think they will be able to sell it for what we paid for it. The bad news is that we'll still lose a lot of money. Another "pro" is that we will finally be living in a house that we can afford, which means we will have discretionary income, for stuff like maternity clothes and vacations. (Give me a bone. A modest vacation later this year is all that's keeping me going right now.) Maybe our gas bill won't be over four hundred bucks in the winter (and that's with a house at 67.)
A "con" is that it will be work. A lot of work. For me to do, mostly by myself, as my husband works overtime during the actuarial busy season and studies for his next exam in May. For me to do after I do all the cooking, errands, and child care, plus the daily cleaning tasks. So pretty much, what I can't fit in during the day, in between, oh, practicing law, I will be doing after 9 p.m.
AND I CAN'T WAIT!
Seriously, I've been throwing a major pity party for myself over here. And the day-to-day stuff of life hasn't been easy, either. For example, I think my toddler has hidden my car keys. I think I remember seeing him this morning with them and thinking "oh.." right before I had to do something else. Aaanyway, they are in his intestinal tract (not really), or another dimension, or something. I looked for them for four hours today, scouring the house, searching all the toy bins, all the drawers, all the trash cans, everything. Nada. But of course this was AFTER I locked us out in the snow, and had to break one of the panes of glass in our back door to get in. And had to summon my husband home to let me borrow his car keys, since we have a keyless car (with a keyless thing that's $100 to replace). And screamed at my kid, causing him to follow me around, saying, "Mama? Mama?" pitifully.
So, there's a piece of cling wrap keeping out the icy icy draft, and there's another project for me to do! (I was thinking of replacing the pane -- it was cracked -- but it would be nice to choose if and when, you know?)
Ugh.
Friday, January 2, 2009
Date Day
Today for the first time since our child's birth my husband and I spent an entire day alone together.
Our kid's day care reopened today after the holidays. They had asked if we would be bringing kid in, and my first thought was, "Oh yeah!" My husband had the day off. Apparetnly most people wanted to keep their kids with them. I checked with my husband to make sure I wasn't being totally insane, wanting kid to go to day care while we spent the day having fun, but ... he was on the same page.
What a great day. It reminded me of the weekends we used to spend together when we were dating, or first married ... before I graduated law school and we moved to Philadelphia.
After we dropped kid off, we went to a breakfast place in Philly that is just like all the breakfast places in Portland, OR, where we lived before. Glorious. I got the huevos rancheros, over medium, and they were over medium! They had condiments other than katsup! It wasn't really grasy and gross! Ahh. So many things to miss about Portland. In Portland we knew of ten or fifteen great places like this, little neighborhood restaurants with kick-butt gormet food. Here in Philly, we've found one.
Afterwards we went to Philly's main library, which is totally amazing. It's downtown so I don't go much, but it's really about ten regular sized libraries in a huge building. I browsed the classics section (classics section!). Our local branch seems to specialize in Af-Am chick lit, a la How Stella Got Her Groove Back. They got rid of their classsics section. :( And usually I go with the Kid, who loooves to pull books from the shelves, so -- I haven't been reading a lot of good stuff lately. So this was great.
Next we went to get our first ultrasound for baby 2. When I first went to the doctor, I thought I was eight weeks. They said ten or twelve. Now, two weeks later, the ultrasound shows sixteen. Boy am I bad at math. It's funny, though. I feel like every time I go in there I miraculously advance in gestation. I can't wait for the visit on the 5th, when I hope to be told I'm almost done (oops, I mean due).
So baby is now scheduled for mimd-June. No gasps or eerie silences from the ultrasound tech so it looks like things are OK. And lots and lots of baby movement. Kid 1 just laid around in there, but 2 is kicking up an storm. So... maybe no number 3!
Finally we went to see a movie together. The only thing that looked interesting in our time slot was Frost/Nixon. I like Ron Howard so it was fun to see one of his movies. It was creepy to see Nixon's rtionale of presidential power, so much like Bush's -- "When the President does it it's not breaking the law." And yet people then had the sense, en masse, to decry it as undemocratic and anti-American. Now we just mutter to ourselves and move on, right?
Anyway, it was great to see a movie together (though we have done that since kid was born). So nice to spend time together and reconnect. I felt really refreshed and ready to be a mom again.
Our kid's day care reopened today after the holidays. They had asked if we would be bringing kid in, and my first thought was, "Oh yeah!" My husband had the day off. Apparetnly most people wanted to keep their kids with them. I checked with my husband to make sure I wasn't being totally insane, wanting kid to go to day care while we spent the day having fun, but ... he was on the same page.
What a great day. It reminded me of the weekends we used to spend together when we were dating, or first married ... before I graduated law school and we moved to Philadelphia.
After we dropped kid off, we went to a breakfast place in Philly that is just like all the breakfast places in Portland, OR, where we lived before. Glorious. I got the huevos rancheros, over medium, and they were over medium! They had condiments other than katsup! It wasn't really grasy and gross! Ahh. So many things to miss about Portland. In Portland we knew of ten or fifteen great places like this, little neighborhood restaurants with kick-butt gormet food. Here in Philly, we've found one.
Afterwards we went to Philly's main library, which is totally amazing. It's downtown so I don't go much, but it's really about ten regular sized libraries in a huge building. I browsed the classics section (classics section!). Our local branch seems to specialize in Af-Am chick lit, a la How Stella Got Her Groove Back. They got rid of their classsics section. :( And usually I go with the Kid, who loooves to pull books from the shelves, so -- I haven't been reading a lot of good stuff lately. So this was great.
Next we went to get our first ultrasound for baby 2. When I first went to the doctor, I thought I was eight weeks. They said ten or twelve. Now, two weeks later, the ultrasound shows sixteen. Boy am I bad at math. It's funny, though. I feel like every time I go in there I miraculously advance in gestation. I can't wait for the visit on the 5th, when I hope to be told I'm almost done (oops, I mean due).
So baby is now scheduled for mimd-June. No gasps or eerie silences from the ultrasound tech so it looks like things are OK. And lots and lots of baby movement. Kid 1 just laid around in there, but 2 is kicking up an storm. So... maybe no number 3!
Finally we went to see a movie together. The only thing that looked interesting in our time slot was Frost/Nixon. I like Ron Howard so it was fun to see one of his movies. It was creepy to see Nixon's rtionale of presidential power, so much like Bush's -- "When the President does it it's not breaking the law." And yet people then had the sense, en masse, to decry it as undemocratic and anti-American. Now we just mutter to ourselves and move on, right?
Anyway, it was great to see a movie together (though we have done that since kid was born). So nice to spend time together and reconnect. I felt really refreshed and ready to be a mom again.
Tuesday, December 30, 2008
WAR
Posted on my family blog about my crappy Christmas. Here was the plan: my husband had Thurs-Sat off. We were going to spend family time together, much needed. My husband's an actuary, and has been working until at least 7:30 most days, leaving me to manage just about everything. Which is fine. It's the deal. Someone has to do it. I work part-time, he works more than full time.
BUT. I was really, really looking forward to four days together, without having to explain that daddy loves us and would rather be here. And yes, you do have to wear a hat outside. And no bottle until more dinner. And bedtime now. You can guess the drill.
What actually happenened:
Frantically trying to finish my work before the holidays, I get a call Tues from daycare: kid is sick, has fever. Go to pick him up. Then get a call from MIL, who says that my husband's grandmother, who has been in hospice, is going downhill fast. They've thought about it and will support whatever decision our family makes about going to the funeral. (We visited at Thanksgiving, and my husband changed his flight to spend an extra 3 days there then. So we had kind of said our goodbyes.)
Weds husband comes home from work. Family has changed their minds and will need him to come down.
Thursday grandmother dies. Viewing is planned for Saturday; funeral is Sunday.
So. Saturday -- our kid's brithday -- husband leaves for his family's house. I deal with sick kid until he gets back late Sunday night. He took Monday off (that was our compromise), and it was good. Went to the Zoo and tromped around. Husband put kid to bed (I think). Tues and he's back at work "Hopefully only 'til 9:30."
All I was saying on my family blog? This. Christmas. Sucked. Sure, it had its good points. It was better than the first Christmas after my mom died, when my dad didn't call (I was 22). But still, really freakin' low on the list. And for the record, I am so sorry about my husband's grandma, who was a really interesting lady and who I liked a lot. I'm just calloused, I guess. In my job I confront death all the time. And all my grandparents and my mother are dead, so... I know. Believe me, I know.
Got a nasty, anon comment on family blog implying I was self-absorbed. And I can guess which SIL wrote it!
So I deleted the blog.
I have to admit, it's a relief. I hated that blog. It was such a mistake to let my husband's fam know about it. They are great people. I love them. But it's best they don't have any sort of view into my heart.
Husband suspects new blog but I deny, deny, deny.
BUT. I was really, really looking forward to four days together, without having to explain that daddy loves us and would rather be here. And yes, you do have to wear a hat outside. And no bottle until more dinner. And bedtime now. You can guess the drill.
What actually happenened:
Frantically trying to finish my work before the holidays, I get a call Tues from daycare: kid is sick, has fever. Go to pick him up. Then get a call from MIL, who says that my husband's grandmother, who has been in hospice, is going downhill fast. They've thought about it and will support whatever decision our family makes about going to the funeral. (We visited at Thanksgiving, and my husband changed his flight to spend an extra 3 days there then. So we had kind of said our goodbyes.)
Weds husband comes home from work. Family has changed their minds and will need him to come down.
Thursday grandmother dies. Viewing is planned for Saturday; funeral is Sunday.
So. Saturday -- our kid's brithday -- husband leaves for his family's house. I deal with sick kid until he gets back late Sunday night. He took Monday off (that was our compromise), and it was good. Went to the Zoo and tromped around. Husband put kid to bed (I think). Tues and he's back at work "Hopefully only 'til 9:30."
All I was saying on my family blog? This. Christmas. Sucked. Sure, it had its good points. It was better than the first Christmas after my mom died, when my dad didn't call (I was 22). But still, really freakin' low on the list. And for the record, I am so sorry about my husband's grandma, who was a really interesting lady and who I liked a lot. I'm just calloused, I guess. In my job I confront death all the time. And all my grandparents and my mother are dead, so... I know. Believe me, I know.
Got a nasty, anon comment on family blog implying I was self-absorbed. And I can guess which SIL wrote it!
So I deleted the blog.
I have to admit, it's a relief. I hated that blog. It was such a mistake to let my husband's fam know about it. They are great people. I love them. But it's best they don't have any sort of view into my heart.
Husband suspects new blog but I deny, deny, deny.
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