Tired With a Chance of Impatient

Sooooo… yeah. Busy times, here. Little sleeping and lots of frantic preparation for the upcoming month of birthday parties, family visits, work travel, and holiday prep. My parents and brother arrive Friday (yay!), then next week I’ve got to fly out to Arkansas for a client site visit. I get back and we spend a few days getting hair cuts, some more professional pics for Jelly, her 18-mo checkup, the local Santa Claus parade, and then it’s off to Charlotte for Thanksgiving with some cousins. From there I’m driving up to Canada again with The Bean, because I am a crazy person and it’s been long enough that I’ve blocked out the incredible agony of that trip, and I have a client meeting in Toronto that is only an hour or so away from my folks so they incredibly agreed to watch her yet again. Then it’s the drive back, and hopefully throw a tree and some decorations up, and host a holiday party, and then it’s off to Boston for a week to the corporate office. And then it’s Christmas, and then I lay down and die, and finally get some sleep, the end.

Jellybean for some reason has continued to wake up around 4:30-5:30, fall asleep for another hour at most, and be up for the day. It’s brutal. I think I functioned better when she was a newborn. Ha ha! I’m funny. No, really, I’m once again totally brain dead and exhausted all the time, plus there are a gazillion different viruses going around that my system is constantly fighting. Little Snotty doesn’t help by licking random things and shoving them in my mouth. I’m back to Cheerios for dinner (they should have some sort of marketing campaign, ‘The Single Mother’s Meal’), which isn’t the most balanced diet, but it’s neutral and quick and easy and Jenny is guaranteed to want to eat half of mine so she’s at least getting something in the evening. The early rising is either a case of 'I'm Starving Because I Positively Refuse to Eat Dinner But Want a Gallon of Milk Two Seconds Before Bed' (which results in a ravenously hungry and soaking wet baby), or 'Why You Got To Keep This Damn House So Cold, Beyotch?' (baby is either cold, or too hot because I've put her in 19 layers of jammies and onesies and put a dangerous space heater on 'Grill' in her room because I'm freaked out that she will be cold).

I am ridiculously excited for the holidays, but am conflicted because work is just so grody. My Engineering Product Manager AND his boss just quit because of the craziness that is the upcoming December release, and you can imagine how awesome that makes my life. Anyone going to own this train wreck? Bueller? I feel like Jenny has had an unfair share of grumpy mama the past few weeks, despite continuing to be the relatively good-natured and well-behaved toddler that she is. Thank god I work from home and don’t have to get myself presentable, or have to be on time to an office after dropping her off at daycare. It is remarkably painful trying to get out the door in the morning, and I’m so short-tempered that a sudden mysterious disappearance of a shoe is THE END OF THE WORLD. I am keeping my crap in check, but I’m doing a lot of ‘get a grip on yourself!’ conversations in my head and taking a lot of Tylenol. Everything is just hard when you’re tired, know what I mean? The Halloween party we went to was a lot of fun, but my ears were ringing and I was nauseous and dizzy from lack of sleep, so that made the whole trick-or-treating experience sort of anti-climactic. Jellybean was great, though, hauling her fat little butt up those stairs and stretching to ring the doorbells all by herself. She had a blast. But now that the candy is gone she keeps asking for 'treat?' hopefully after dinner, and sobs when none are forthcoming.

Things I Feel Guilty About Today:

1. I'm phoning it in with the meals lately. Or, still. It's just so darn irritating when I spend an hour preparing something and an hour cleaning up and all that happens is Jenny cries like I'm torturing her and stuff gets thrown out. She does seem to enjoy clementines, though, and I figure that's some good vitamin C, so it's not totally bad. I just think that if I ate better I'd feel better, have more energy, the world would magically become simpler, etc.


2. Money spent on Christmas stuff. Yes, there are a batrillion other things I should be spending my money on. But - Christmas! Shiny! Happy!
   
3. The dirtiest house in the world. I am trying to get bits and pieces done in the evenings, but that's also my only Jelly time, so then I feel guilt that I am ignoring her or that her mommy time is spent sitting on the floor by herself looking at books while I wash linens and swipe at toilets and ignore dusty window sills. Thank god my mum isn't all judge-y and won't criticize me if stuff doesn't get done, that would suck.

I don't know how much posting I'm going to get done in the next month or so, so please don't be upset and go away and never come back. I'm sure there will be PLENTY of stories after the holidays that will thrill and titilate. You'll laugh, you'll cry, you'll want to read the blog again and again. It will be just like 'Cats'.

Some Jellybean goodness coming your way;

This Is Halloween

I like to think that summer is my favorite season. I love the beach; warm sand under my feet, cool waves rocking me, a lazy benevolent sun on my face. I do not, however, like sweating. I don’t like $200+ A/C bills every month. And I don’t like a scorched, angry acrid air that punches you in the face when you attempt to walk out your door. So I may need to rethink this whole summer thing (check back in with me again in February, though).

Autumn doesn’t really get properly moving in North Carolina until late October. It’s a little slower, and a little more unpredictable than other locales. One day it’s 54, the next it’s 82. But when it finally makes up its mind to be sensible and settles down around 67-68 degrees, that’s when I’m happy. The house is cool at night, and I sleep better. I’ve finally been able to have a few al fresco meals, and drinks with friends in a sweet evening breeze. This body is made for jeans and sweatshirts, not shorts and tank tops, and I don’t faint with heat exhaustion toting Jellybean around.

This past weekend was the local mommies ‘Trunk or Treat’ event. For those of you unfamiliar with such a notion, it’s like tailgating for a sporting event but with less beer and more music and unsupervised children. Actually, the kids at the soiree this year were pretty well tended. Everyone seemed to be having a fun time, despite the suspicious amount of weird squeeze-tetra applesauce-like product. Jenny’s favorite treats were definitely the lollipops, although I had a moment of concern watching her run down a hill with one in her mouth. And I did lick some grass and lint off for her, which I thought was pretty gracious of me. I didn’t get as much time to hang out with my favorite cool mommies as I’d like, since I was Jelly-wrangling most of the time. That’s the frustrating thing about a non-contained event. But there were some cool costumes, and we got to see friends, and we didn’t roast like last year. And Jenny learned the joy of eating too much candy and not eating a single bite of dinner, which is very important.

This coming weekend will be another Halloween party, this time with my hacker friends. A couple who moved to Atlanta will be staying with us, with their baby in tow, and I can’t wait to see them! Hopefully Jelly will refrain from poking him in the eye, which she seems to like to do to some babies. I am going to take her trick-or-treating with some of the partygoers and then try to put her down to sleep there. I’ll let you know how that works out.

Speaking of sleep and not getting any, she’s had a nasty little cold and, despite me and Vick’s teaming up to do our best to keep her breathing at night, for whatever reason she’s woken up earlier and earlier the past few days. Saturday was 6:30, Sunday was 6, and this morning was 5:15. Yep, you read that correctly. Although it was partially my own stupid fault, because I woke up to pee and decided it was too cold and OMG THINK OF THE CHILDREN and went in to cover her up. Which of course woke her up and made her furious. I pulled her into my nice toasty warm bed in the hopes that she would be lulled back to sleep by my regret and sleep-deprived frustration, but no such luck. It’s a 9 pm bedtime for me tonight!

Here are some pics of my favorite pet.

Jelly hangs out with some friends, Kai-Lan and Oscar

She's a good sharer, my Jelly; 'Here, doggie, have some!'

Jelly and Jellybean Mama, in a rare photo together

And just in case you'd forgotten (or never saw) last year...

Happy Halloween, everyone!!

It's Not You, It's Me

Omg I'm a terrible blogger. I've become the blog person I hate - get people interested, then leave 'em hanging. Will you ever forgive me? Are you even still checking? I'm sorry! Things have actually settled down a bit - Jenny is doing ok at the in-home daycare, but still cries when I drop her off so that stresses me out despite the fact I know that SHE'S FINE. Yes, normal separation anxiety, it's all very healthy, normal to be still adjusting, whatever. It's still a sad little face boo-hooing when I have to pry her off my leg. And I've been reminded that I still need to find a permanent solution come January. Which stresses me out all over again, especially when I realize that due to my parent's Thanksgiving visit and some work travel, Jelly won't need care for 3 weeks straight, and if I were smart I would have her finish at Miss N's in mid-November and start her in the new place when we get back in early December. Which would mean I would need to find her new place, uh, next week, prior to paying Miss N for November. I would personally prefer to pretend that I don't have to deal with any of this at all, and that childcare fairies will take care of things. Or I'll win lots of money despite never playing any sort of lottery.

I went on another lame internet date, and realized the problem is not the lame internet dudes - it's me. I like the nerdy boys, the nerdy boys aren't exactly social butterflies, therefore I get all irritated on dates when they don't ask me any questions about myself OR MY PRECIOUS BABY. Seriously, it's a game now. If an hour goes by, I casually mention her, let it hang there, and move on. Wait a few minutes, then do it again. So far, neither guy has asked me about my job, or Jellybean, or how I came to be such a gorgeous total package. It's making me crazy. Also, last night, my jeans were unzipped for most of dinner and I accidentally blew a snot bubble in mid-sentence. None of my pants fit right - I sit down, and the zipper gaps open. I was like, 'uh-oh, I'm out!'. Luckily I was wearing a long shirt so could make it to the restroom to wrangle some pants control. And blow my nose. It's this crazy weather, not my fault!

Work has stressed me out to the point of shut down, which is never a good thing. I play Facebook apps and wake up in the middle of the night from dreaming I've missed an important conference call. Any tips for re-focussing would be greatly appreciated (like, reminding me that it would really suck to lose my job maybe?).

Jenny continues to morph into a toddler. One day she LOVES something, the next she DESPISES it. This is true of television shows, food, ponies, clothes, toys, activities, and clocks. Yes, she hates the kitchen clock suddenly - I have to take it down from the wall and put it in the pantry or she won't eat that 1/2 piece of teeny tiny boiled carrot that she calls dinner. She's also throwing more temper tantrums, which personally is pretty hilarious. I'm not insensitive - I offer to lay down on the floor and cry and kick along with her. She does not think I'm funny. Her new favorite thing EVER! is to play in the car. She can get the keys in the ignition and turn on the radio, so I figure she's almost ready to move out on her own. Her language skills continue to explode - people's names, phrases. She likes to point at things and say, 'See!' to get my attention. Which is WAY better than grunting, and cute as a button.

The next few months are busy ones - it's apparently birthday party season in my awesome mommies group, and there's holiday stuff (Halloween, Thanksgiving - and then - CHRISTMAS!!!), and we went to the fair, and the cooler weather is freaking fantastic. Except for the extra boogers.

And now, to copy my sister, say 'Click'!

We're Still Standing. But Mostly Sitting, Because We're Lazy Like That.

Hello, internet friends, sorry to keep you waiting. Last week things kind of fell apart, even more so than I already wrote about - nanny and her son got sick, Jenny and I got sick, things at work fell apart, my stress level was through the roof. Anyhow, the barfing is now done with and I don't EVER want to see poor little Jellybean go through that again (dudes, seriously, it was SO. SAD.). Also, I would prefer to not have someone yammy down the front of my shirt again anytime soon. But this weekend we took it easy, did some Halloween decorating, and had lots of couch time, so physically we're better although mentally I'm still stress-headache-central. Tomorrow morning Jellybean and I are going to go hang out at Miss N's for a few hours, then on Wednesday she'll do a half day by herself, then Thursday will be her first full official day at her new in-home daycare up the street.

I will write more later this week after I have recovered from the trauma of nanny's final days and Jelly not being here.

And thank you, everyone. Thanks for the kind words and the advice and the offers of support and for listening to me and for worrying about Jellybean right along with me. It's comforting to be reminded that I don't really carry this alone. And there are lots of voices of reason out there, and you're all totally right.

And now, some pictures of my totally crazy child to make you smile on a Monday:

Today I am Angry

Yesterday was a bad day. Yes, it was a Monday, and Mondays traditionally kinda like to slap us around a bit. But at 8:30 am on a bright and sunny fall morning I was not prepared for my awesome nanny, the person who makes my daughter light up when she enters a room, the person who has rocked and walked and carried my most precious Jellybean for over a year – I was not prepared for her to quit.

I of course was busy doing 857 things; making a frittata for everyone for breakfast (because that’s just the kind of terrific employer I am), unloading the dishwasher, checking email, etc. She set down her son and said, ‘I need to talk to you about something’, and I figured it was just another reminder about one of the things I continually do wrong, or that she needed more time off to visit her Baby Daddy or something. No, she wanted to talk to me about how frustrated she was, and how the hours were no longer working out for her, and how she couldn’t continue making less than minimum wage. It was obvious that it wasn’t going to be a negotiation kind of talk; much like I tend to do, she had obviously been stewing about things for some time and had made up her mind.

Not that there was anything I could really say; I work 8:30-5:30, like 8,000,000 other people, and that couldn’t change. Despite the fact that most days I let her leave at 4:30 and struggled to finish my work with a frustrated Bean trying to get my attention, it wasn’t enough. Despite the fact that THOSE WERE HER CONTRACTED HOURS. Despite the fact that she was able to use whatever time she needed during the day for her own appointments and personal errands, long lunches with friends or shopping or going to her house and doing whatever needed to be done. Despite the fact she was averaging 8 weeks of vacation a year, plus any and all sick or personal days off she asked for.

And yes, the money was terrible, I’ve always been totally open about that, right from the very first interview. I am a single mom and I technically ran out of my nanny budget 3 months ago; I’ve used up my savings and have been putting groceries on credit cards just to keep her as long as possible. But I always made sure she had gas money, and paid for any memberships or lessons or activities she asked for, for both Jellybean AND her son. I paid for their breakfast, lunch, and snacks, which had a surprisingly large impact on my bills. I bought her son toys, and clothes, and was generous at birthdays and the holidays. And most of all, for three hours every afternoon while my baby slept, she was effectively paid to play with her own non-napping son. She was not responsible for any cleaning, or laundry, or any other chores. Ask me how happy I’ve been about taking out diapers for her baby for a year!

Ok, sorry about that, I get a little defensive when I think about it, and how she’s behaving now.

The contract we drew up states that we were to give each other a month’s notice, but she wants to go back to school, and the class she wants to enroll in starts in just under two weeks. TWO WEEKS. Yes, I could point to the contract, and did mention that, and her response was that the next class wasn’t for two months, and that she would stay if she had to but would be miserable. Well, thanks for that, I sure would love to have someone terribly unhappy caring for my child. And that is a lovely way to express your gratitude, especially since I had offered to write a nice letter of recommendation for whatever you do next.

So yesterday I was shaky, and weepy, and felt a huge loss, and tremendous guilt and I toured less-than-satisfactory daycares and spoke to unreliable home daycare providers and became even more despondent and had several raging headaches and couldn’t sleep last night.

Today I am angry.

I am angry because every single day, five days a week, for the past year, I have been extremely conscious about providing a good working environment for this person. I have continually overlooked lateness, and questionable behaviors, and a thousand other little things because I knew that regardless, she was taking great care of Jenny. I worked late at night and early in the morning to make sure the house was clean. The fridge and pantry were always stocked with foods she liked. I am a terrible boss at the best of times, but with her I thought carefully about every word that came out of my mouth, every action, because I knew it directly affected The Bean. And it wasn’t good enough for her. I feel betrayed, and disrespected, and resentful. And worse yet, I’m pretty sure she feels the same way.

But you know, I didn’t change the rules. I can’t help the fact that at 21 years of age, the grass is always greener somewhere else. And really, it’s probably better this way, because I was going to have to face letting her go when the creditors started calling, and that tough decision has been made for me. I think Jelly would likely thrive in a daycare environment; she’s sociable, and flexible, and happy to please, which are perfect characteristics for a likeable little Toddler Class enrollee. And if worse comes to worse, I’ve got a line on an in-home provider who could take Jenny right away, even though she isn’t sure yet if she’d like to do it permanently. Yes, there are still lots of worries; what am I going to do about night care when I have to travel next, and ugh, the thought of getting up an hour earlier and fighting traffic to do drop-offs and pickups. Letting go of the ridiculous guilt about not being able to afford another nanny, and the overwhelming sorrow at the thought of not having Jenny directly downstairs every day for me to run and kiss and nuzzle. The sadness of Jenny losing a brother, and a surrogate mother.

And yet… I get my house back. I get a realistic budget back. Jenny isn’t listening to a screamer all day long, someone who hits her when she tries to lovingly pat his head, or takes her toys and taunts her. I can stop running a half-empty dishwasher, and have the temperature set where I like it, and the furniture placed where I want it.

In spite of it all, it’s a member of the family saying good-bye, and it’s a sad, scary thing.


NOTE: Some of you know my soon-to-be ex-nanny. Some of you may, in fact, have an upcoming scheduled playdate with her later this week (so jealous!). If you see her, please do not say anything like, ‘OMG, I totally read all about everything on the internets!’. I may be upset, but I would not want to do anything to make nanny feel bad. Please continue with business as usual and respect her privacy. And have fun.

No Daddy Yet

Well, it’s official. I am a busy working, DATING, single mama.
For those of you who may not understand the significance of this, it’s not just that it’s scary and expensive and exhausting and lame to be dating as a mother; it’s that it’s my first date since my ex. And my ex and I broke up on September 16.

2003.

So it’s, uh, been a little while.

The good news is, I’ve apparently developed an extremely healthy positive attitude about the misery that is online dating. Previously, I would be all stressed out about him and me and rejection and him being a loser and me having a fat ass and expectations and those kinds of things. Now, I figure, I’m paying for a sitter so screw everything else, I’m sure as heck going to enjoy myself, even if it is a total bomb. And oh, boy, was last night’s nuclear.

First of all, I knew in advance he had ‘some’ tattoos. I took ‘some’ to mean, ‘a very discreet and tastefully done miniature caricature of Calvin and Hobbes, or the equivalent’. Not full arm sleeves, back of neck, legs, god knows where. Secondly, he was wearing those baggy skater shorts that ride low and go to the knees. Kind of an odd choice for a 31-year old on a first date to a nice restaurant. Thirdly, he was wearing some sort of bird head on a necklace. Intriguing, yes. Appealing, no. Now, I don’t appreciate being judged solely on appearance, and I work very hard to avoid doing just that to others. So I was willing to look past these minor surface imperfections and discover his beautiful soul or whatever.

We sat down at the Japanese-themed dinner table and I ordered the hibachi dinner. You know, soup, salad with ginger dressing, the rice and noodles and chicken and zucchini/onions, the whole deal. He ordered a sushi roll. ONE ROLL. Four little teensy itsy-bitsy pieces. And he’s a few hundred pounds, so I kinda raised an eyebrow and had to ask. Oh, why, why am I such a curious person?

Apparently my date had once weighed 490 lbs. As a result, he went into liver failure and had to have ½ of it, plus his duodenum, removed. And now he can only eat little bits, very, very, VERY slowly. Like, over two painful hours. I was initially shocked at hearing the word ‘duodenum’ during pleasant dinner conversation, but recovered well and said lots of things about how strong he was and how awesome for losing weight, which sadly led to him explaining in detail his upcoming skin removal surgery. That led to a story about a prior back injury, where he had developed an addiction to pain meds and spiraled downwards until he was buying Oxycodone on the streets and ended up spending time in a methodone clinic.

Dude, seriously, what do you say to that?! I said very brightly, ‘Well, I hear those clinics do wonders!’ in a slightly nervous and falsely chipper kind of voice.

Those were the highlights of the conversation. Other fun facts that came out about my date included narcolepsy and complete and utter self-involvement. Not once did he ask me a question about my job, my life, my beautiful and most-precious-thing-in-the-whole-world-to-me daughter, or fantastic hair. Oh, and his artistic glass-blowing job? He makes BONGS.

*sigh*

But you know what – I got out. I did it. I took a chance, and I put myself out there, and at the very least I showered and had a good meal. I opened myself up to experience greatness but got a heaping portion of good ol’ fashioned crazy. So what? It was hilarious. It was an extremely one-sided conversation, but it was extremely entertaining. How many other first dates include a story about a 500-lb Man-Eating Chicken freak show where the punch line is your date, in his underwear, mowing through some KFC? That’s great story value there, my friends. And that’s something that you can’t buy. It has to be earned.

If you are married, please be nice to your husband today. You don’t have to do this.

Happy Autumn!

Just Jenny

Check it out, a late-afternoon Friday blog post! Maybe you should wish on it, since it's something you so rarely see...

Catching up on my blogs earlier today, I chanced upon an interesting post about a pair of parents who changed their son’s name when he was one. Now, the very sweet person who posted was very polite, but as you all know I am not, I personally have a few issues with the name change shenanigans; firstly, poor little Ralphy was old enough to ‘know’ his name, so it was probably confusing for him. Although, people who adopt older children sometimes do this, and I guess the kids somehow manage to make it to adulthood. So maybe it’s not as emotionally damaging as I think. Secondly, they originally named him ‘Ralph’, which was just silly on their part, because he is neither friends with The Fonz nor in A Christmas Story. Lastly, the fantastic new name that they struggled over for AT LEAST a year is ‘Huxley’. Which, while literate, is bad news for a playground bully spoiling for a fight. Also, I would inexplicably want to call him ‘Huxtable’.

No matter what you think about people and their crazy naming (hey, at least they didn’t go with ‘Hitler’, right?), picking a name for another person, let alone a stranger you barely know, is a cruel task for a hormonal woman. I started remembering the oceans of anxiety I waded through before I decided on Jennifer Jillian R.. And realized I don’t think I ever shared the full list of reasons with anyone.

So here's why I went with what I did, instead of Isabella or Madeline or Alora:

1. My other top choices were all in the Top 10 most popular girl's names. Jennifer isn't even in the Top 100 anymore. Surprising, huh?
2. I think it’s just plain mean to give an innocent baby a name that you like because of a movie, video game, novel, ice cream flavor, capital city, or fashion accessory. I would love, LOVE to have a daughter named ‘Alora’ (the baby princess from the movie ‘Willow’), but that’s just not right in my mind to do. I know someone who named her baby ‘Juicy’. I think that you should have to take your list of potential names and a.) Page them slowly and loudly over a public intercom somewhere busy, at Christmas time; b.) Draft potential resumes; c.) Share them with a selection of teachers, and d.) Try to buy a personalized mini plastic license plate.
If you find yourself wanting to die of embarrassment, can’t pronounce/spell the name properly, chose the name in a haze of alcohol/drugs/post-partum, realize you are breaking your future child’s heart, or have people send you angry letters, maybe you should rethink that name.
3. I wanted a family name so that my daughter could feel that connection, especially since she only has maternal family; my closest cousin and birth coach is a Jennifer, and Jellybean’s initials are the same as my father’s.
4. Her name had to be something easily nicknamed (Jennifer Jillian Jellybean, Junior), easily spelled in kindergarten (Jenny), flexible (Jen, Jennie, JJ), and not spell anything weird as an acronym. It couldn’t be easily made fun of, rhyme with any naughty body parts or funny odors, or be unfashionable within the year.
5. It had to be functional for both a baby and a lawyer/doctor/President/Prime Minister.
6. I didn’t want to have to spell it over the phone a million times, or have her have to spell it. We already have to spell our last name. But guess what, there are now so many variations of ‘Jenny’ that I spell it anyhow. So annoying. People repeat it back to me, like, ‘Really? You don’t mean ‘Jenalyah’ or ‘Ginni’ or ‘Jinxy’?’ Argh, no, just Jenny, people.
7. At this point I do have to admit that one of my favorite ‘Buffy’ characters was Jenny.
8. I also have to admit that sometimes, I call Jelly ‘Izzybeau’ or ‘Maddy’ just to see if I made a terrible mistake. Because no matter what name you choose, you will at some point doubt yourself.
9. All the Jens that I know are strong, independent, beautiful women. Have you ever met a Jen that picks her nose, or can’t drive a stick shift? I don’t think so.
10. That’s who she was.

Just Jenny