Vanity

Since I’ve lost weight, my face has become noticeably older-looking. Without all the fat underneath to plump it up, I look sort of drawn and gaunt.

Also, WRINKLED.

GAH!

Specifically, those pesky naso-labial folds (aka: laugh lines) are aging me. I keep telling myself to wear them with pride as I’ve obviously smiled A LOT in my life, but who am I kidding? I’m only 33 and I’m wrinkled! I’ll be proud to be wrinkled at 50. Not now.

So, here’s where you come in… can you recommend a good, reasonably priced anti-wrinkle concoction? A moisturizer or treatment or something? I’m clueless about this stuff, but I’ve got my finger on the “add to cart” button over at Amazon. Just tell me what to try.

Chastised

As I was leaving work yesterday, another member of my team was teasing me (good-naturedly) about being stupid. I jokingly, and sotto voce, called her a jackass. No big deal, right?

Wrong.

Today, my boss called me into a conference room to chastise me for it. Item The First: There is absolutely NO PROFANITY tolerated in the workplace. Yes, “jackass” counts as profanity. Item The Second: Calling someone a jackass is “name-calling” and could be an HR issue, should anyone want to pursue it. This serves as my “off the record” warning.

Lessons learned: It’s ok to call a coworker stupid, as that is not technically “a name” nor is it swearing. Also, apparently, I’m 8 years old again.

What am I? Some sort of Super Man or something?

Oh. Em. Gee. What the H-E-Double Hockey Sticks was I thinking with this whole “working full-time” bullshit? Let me give you a detailed list of all the ways this sucks:

1. I haven’t worked full-time in more than three years. I’m not used to being away from home so many hours a week. My ass is not accustomed to sitting in a hard office chair for so many hours a day. (Especially without all the ass-padding it used to have!) I’m not used to having to use an alarm to wake up at ungodly o’clock. With being pregnant, so sleep is sketchy at best which makes the aforementioned ungodly o’clock rising even harder to take.

2. I’m supposed to be gone from home for 50 hours a week and still run this joint? How in the world am I supposed to find time to clean and launder and grocery shop and cook dinner in addition to spending Quality Time with my kid? It’s IMPOSSIBLE, I tells ya. IMPOSSIBLE. I get home from work and devote Maddie’s pre-bedtime hours to dinner and playing and snuggling. Then, when she goes to bed I try to get my shit done. By the time that’s all finished, it’s time for me to drag my tired ass to bed. (I’ve never worked full-time with a kid, btw. Once she was born, I went back on a part-time basis.)

God, I’m saying all this like I’m the only person in the history of ever that’s had to balance work/home/family. NONE of you has EVER done this herculean task! And I’ve been working for all of THREE DAYS and am pissed because I haven’t found the perfect routine. Because certainly, three days is plenty of time to adjust to a major life change. If you’ve stopped reading because of my blatant douchebaggery, I completely understand. Hell, I’d quit reading, too.

BUT!

My job is great. I like what I do. Well, I like what I think I’m supposed to do. I’m probably doing it all wrong. The people I work for and with seem nice and laid-back. I talked to my supervisor about Situation Knocked Up today and she took it really well. She didn’t seem upset or like she thought I was a douchebag for not disclosing the info in the interview. I like being around adults again and not spending all day dealing with a tiny, sometimes evil, dictator. I’m enjoying actually missing Maddie instead of wishing I was anywhere else but home with her.

Also, there will be MONEY soon. An actual, real live paycheck that represents all the hard work I’ve done. And I won’t be poor! Ok, well I’ll still be poor, according to my money managing husband, but STILL.

Things that suck about being pregnant: A list

* Permanent congestion
* Heartburn
* Only being able to sleep on your side(s)
* Daily headaches and only being able to take Tylenol for pain relief
* Fatigue
* Cravings for obscure food items that you don’t possess in your house
* Waddling
* Moodiness (Granted, this sucks more for the family members of the pregnant woman, but still.)
* Round ligament pain
* Maternity pants – Every pair ever made.
* Sore boobs and constantly erect nipples.
* Gas
* Discharge

* And the worst one is heightened desire. Because the above list is bound to make you incredibly sexy to your partner, right? “Hey babe, wanna get bizz-ay? Just let me blow my nose for the 12th time this hour, burp and yell at you for breathing too loud. Then we can get it on.”

I really want a pop tart.

Look, Imma be up front and tell you that I got nothin’. I’m posting because it’s been a while and I feel guilty. Feel free to read out of pity or boredom, but if you’re looking for quality writing, might I suggest this or this?

I’ve been sick with strep throat, a cold and a stomach virus for the past week. Being pregnant really limits the drugs I’m allowed to take. Lemme tell you, Tylenol does JACK SHIT against some real pain. I’m finally starting to feel better, but DAYUM! I’m all kinds of crabby. I still haven’t been officially offered the job I was expecting to get, we’re still broke and it’s still Christmas. I’ve been too sick and it’s been too cold for Maddie and I to play outside. We’re stuck in the house together, feeding off each other’s crabbiness until one of us ends up in tears. It’s an effing laugh riot around here.

In the spirit of trying to look on the bright side, Monday is the big gender reveal sonogram! Thanks to all of your comments, Gerald and I have a nice, solid list of boys’ names to choose from should we see a wee little wiener on the screen.

Maddie and I are going to make fancy schmancy chocolate covered pretzels to give as gifts to her MDO teachers and our family members. She’s also made some Christmas ornaments for everyone, so that ought to go over well. We don’t have a lot of money to spend this year, but we’re giving our time and our love and isn’t that what Christmas is really about? Look at me, all Linus in the Charlie Brown Christmas special.

I need a plan. Or drugs. Possibly both.

As I recently twittered, today was one of those days when I repeatedly wondered if there was an age cut-off for dropping your baby off at the fire department. Maddie was a terrible listener and I grouchy as hell. It was a combination of nuclear holocaust proportions.

Over the last month or so, I’ve noticed that Maddie’s getting more and more douchbaggy and I’m getting less and less tolerant patient mentally stable. I’m on the edge of snapping all the damn time. I’d say something about how this makes me feel like a horrible mother, but know I’m not. I don’t abuse her in any way and all her needs are met. However, I am not a very loving mother on these days. I feel very guilty and frequently punish myself with thoughts of something happening to her and having to live with the guilt over fussing at her forever.

The problem is that she’s almost three which is prime douchebag time (second only to 15, I think) and I’m pregnant. I can’t for the life of me figure out what to do. It’s not as though I can change either condition. I’m trying to concentrate on my behavior and reactions to her, but DAYUM it’s hard. I don’t remember being so angry and short-tempered when I was pregnant with Maddie. I was an emotional wreck, but it was more of the “weepy” and “woe is me” variety. Now I’m knee-deep in “leave me alone for five minutes already, for crying out loud!” It almost feels like my Z0l0ft has stopped working, but I don’t want to have the doctor raise my dosage while I’m pregnant. I’m already worried about how what I’m currently taking is going to affect the baby in the long term. I’m grasping at straws trying to find a magic solution.

I think going back to work will be a big help. I’m afraid not cut out to be a full-time stay at home mom. This terrifies me because it’s our plan for me to stay home permanently when the new baby’s born. I know that something has to change. I can’t keep doing things the same old way and expecting Maddie and I to be happy. I think I need more time with grown-ups and Maddie needs more time with other kids. We can’t continue to be each other’s sole source of entertainment/stimulation.

Any other moms out there have some advice? I’ll settle for empathy, if you’ve got that.

Sickly

I am sick.

Please leave comments showering me with love and sympathy.

Thank you.

Today = Horrible

I’ve canceled today’s post on account of today being shitty.

I’ll be back tomorrow with your regularly scheduled exciting, witty and irreverent banter.

What’s my deal, anyway?

I think I’ve broken up with my blog or something. Lately, I just can’t muster up the “give a damn,” to well, give a damn. I can’t think of anything to post about or witty comments to leave on your blogs. I’ve just sort of lost my blogging mojo.

Maddie’s two-year-old-douchebaggery has escalated to heretofore unseen levels. We’re at douchebaggery alert orange here, people. I actually had to put her in her crib this afternoon so that we could all just chillthefuckout for a while. My god, EVERYTHING is such a BIG DEAL for her. And the crying and whining and demanding…. ugh. Needless to say, all efforts to conceive child #2 are on hold. I’m pretty sure my ovaries have packed their bags and are moving into an “adults only” community somewhere in Boca.

Work is good. There’s nothing like the dread of staying home with the aforementioned douchebaggy kid to make one appreciate one’s job. A bad day at work is still a picnic compared to a bad day at home.

To be fair, I should tell you that my kid is extraordinarily charming these days. She’s big into singing and putting on little shows. Old MacDonald and the ABCs are two of her signature pieces. I’m convinced this is a survival instinct on her part. Otherwise, her tiny hiney would be looking for a room to rent and a job.

I’m practically healed from last week’s Birthday Surgery Extravaganza. No pain so far, so I’m hoping things will settle down on the health front. Although, Gerald will be going through is own surgical gauntlet in a monthish, so there’s always HIS complications to look forward to.

Um, I guess this post perfectly illustrates why I ought not be posting. I’m kind of a grumpasaurus rex, huh?

Dude. Enough already.

So, I’ve got to have surgery on Wednesday. The Mysterious Pain in my abdomen hasn’t gone away and is now accompanied by elevated liver enzymes. Since CT scans haven’t revealed the problem, my surgeon feels it’s in my best interest to carve me like a Thanksgiving turkey go in and have a look around the joint. At this point, he thinks it may be either an internal hernia or a twisted bowel. Neither one sounds pleasant, but he assures me that should he find either one whilst wandering around my belly, he’ll be able to fix it right up.

On one hand, I’m feeling like perhaps I made a mistake having the bypass. I’ve lost a metric ass-load of weight, but I can’t stop having complications. I wanted to be healthier, not having THREE surgeries in nine months. GAH!

On the other hand, I look like this now, so perhaps it’s not such a bad deal after all. (My in-laws got me this dress for my birthday. I saw it at Christmas time and it was too expensive. She found ONE last dress and it was on sale. Notice the size. And yes, I can zip it all the way up AND still breathe, thankyouverymuch.)