I'm a full-time Business Development Specialist living in Northern California with my husband (JohnnyLogic), who is an IT Technician, and our son Cole (born 10/05).
By the time I post this, my (work) week will be finished. Sure, there's a lot more that I need to get done here this week, but it ain't gonna happen. There's always next week. At least, until there isn't... But I'm fairly positive that next week will come, and with it the chance to slack off some more get some more work done.
Until then, play nicely. No hitting, scratching, hair pulling, or name calling. Don't watch too much tv and go to bed on time. And eat your veggies.
I'll be playing hippie in the sunshine with my son, my guitar, live music, and lots of beer.
This morning I had to go get a filling. It's been a while, thanks to my parent's prudent bonding of my teeth as a child and decent oral hygiene ever since. I arrived at 8 and was told that I didn't have an appointment.
Wait... what?
Oh- sorry! The appointment is at 10:20. Come back then.
Fine.
So I arrived at 10:10 for my appointment. And waited. And waited. And what happened next? Yup- I waited.
Whatever. I got to see pictures of Portia and Ellen's wedding and listen to the man in the operating room next to me snore as he was under sedation.
Then they came to numb me. I got topical first and then, after about 10 more minutes of waiting (and more snoring from next door), the dentist came to give me the shot. And? She's awesome. I was freaked out (I HATE NEEDLES), but I closed my eyes, breathed deeply (she even complimented me on my "beautiful breathing"), and it was over with hardly a pinch.
However, when she was finished, it looked like I had lost a brief fight with a pole.
(Taken from my Blackberry all sneaky-like, because I wasn't supposed to have my phone on at all. Eeep!)
Do you see that lip? I didn't intend to come away from the dentist looking like I'd had collagen injection. I told the dentist that I was on to her- she was trying to turn me into a Muppet. She looked at me a little oddly.
It felt like they had surgically attached a vienna sausage to my face where my upper lip should be. At one point during the filling process, she kind of flapped my lip, while at the same time the guy next door started snoring again. I was doing my best not to shake with laughter as she was trying to drill, thinking that that probably wasn't entirely conducive to the process. Or to being able to keep my teeth.
Anyway, now, 6 hours later, the swelling is gone. At one point I was ready to rip my lip off because I kept feeling an itch there that I could not scratch. It was making me insane! But now I can talk and scratch like a "normal" person once more. Hurrah. And perhaps I'll be able to keep my teeth for at least one more day.
(** I actually really like going to the dentist. Except for the needles.)
The stress builds up and I start to lose it over all of the things I can't control, and so I take back control over those things I can.
The chaos had gotten to be too much. I could overlook it when I was feeling okay, but when everything else went crazy, my ocd took over.
So yesterday I cleaned. I organized Cole's room, I scrubbed all of the baseboards in the house, I de-nastified the shower, I washed all of the bathroom rugs, I did several other loads of laundry, including the towels that had been sitting there forever, I picked everything off of our bedroom floor and vacuumed the crap out of it. When the vacuum started to smell funny, I even turned it off and pulled out every piece of hair/string/floss that had been wrapped around the beater bar. I scrubbed the toilets- even the backsides.
And last night, for just a little while, I sat in my newly very clean room and played my guitar, exploring bits of the "Guitar for Dummies" book I got for a dollar from the library on Saturday. And I felt really good. No headache- the only pain was from my fingertips re-callousing and the bruise on my ankle that I got from smacking into the rocking chair. No guilt- I worked so hard that I was more than deserving of a break. No sadness- my house was clean, my family was healthy and happy. Just me, my guitar, and the tablature for Neko Case.
And it was good.
This is a short week for me. I'll be trying to leave with Cole Thursday morning for a 4-day music festival in the mountains. I'm taking my guitar.
You know how sometimes you just need to say something or write something, and once you have that out of your system suddenly the world doesn't feel so much like you're trapped 100 meters under water and your head is seconds away from imploding? Thanks for giving me that space yesterday.
When I left work at the end of the day, the hilarious universe still had a few more tricks left for me. Cole and I had to go to the store where he proceeded to act like an asshole, and capped the trip by trying to bite me three times. I also had to field a phone call from my mother, which is something akin to playing hot potato with a goddamn grenade these days. We never know who will explode first! Fun for all!
I got home, made a craptastic Boboli pizza, made John give Cole his bath, and then tried to put Cole to bed. He fought me so much on brushing his teeth that, after several warnings about the consequences, I finally said "OK! No books, no songs, the lights are going off and it's time to go to sleep. Goodnight." and closed the door behind me. After he screamed "WAIT MOM!" for several minutes, I went back in and told him that he should remember what happened tonight because it will happen from now on when he fights me. I said that if he wants book and song time at night, he has to let me brush his teeth without the fighting. I'm done with that bullshit (I did not say "bullshit" to my child). And then I kissed him, told him I love him, said goodnight and sweet dreams, and walked out of the door again. Again he screamed "WAIT MOM!" for minutes, but that time I didn't go back in. He finally realized that I wasn't coming back and went to sleep.
John and I watched Buffy and then went to bed.
This morning, I woke up first, got up right away, and took my shower. I got dressed, made coffee, and was sitting and reading my book when I heard Cole's door open. I went to greet him with a hug and kisses, and he happily hugged and kissed me back, even kissing my cheeks like I do to him. Then he climbed into his "house" (two laundry drying racks with a blanket over the top) and made me Superman pancakes and fed them to me. They may have been made from dog hair and imagination, but they were delicious, and so filling!
Then I took him to school and laughed with his teacher and drove to work and read emails and drank water and talked to people and did my job.
I'm sorry, but I have to write it or... I don't know what.
I've had a headache for the past 2+ weeks, with no breaks except when I'm asleep.
Today I woke up badly. I was off. Not that I'm a morning person to begin with, but it was worse.
I went to the bathroom, only to discover that I'd gotten my period when I had woken up in the middle of the night to pee. I stared at it, unbelieving, for full minutes. Not only did I not want to see it, but it wasn't even supposed to be here until Saturday. It caught me off guard.
Cole fought me about every little thing after John left for work. Let's put a diaper on. NO! Time to get dressed. NO! Put on your shoes. NO! Wait... YES! (He does love those shoes.) Let's go to the car. NO! You can't take the lion flashlight into daycare. YES I CAN! You have to take off your Batman cape, too. NO! Please give me a hug. NO! Can I have a kiss? NO!
Endless.
I headed over to Quest to get my blood drawn for tests, which also meant that I hadn't had anything to eat or drink yet. I sat in the unfriendly waiting room on the awful, stained chairs trying not to think about needles. When my turn came, the band on my arm really hurt, though the draw itself was quick and easy. For once.
I went to get coffee where the clerk was doing hard sales for domatcha to every. fucking. customer in line ahead of me. It took ten goddamn years for me to get to the counter. She was so fucking chipper that I was ready to punch her happy face in. But I was nice. I held it together.
I got to work to hear that my supervisor had been calling for me. That's never good. Why he didn't call my cell, I'll never know. When I listened to his message, it was clearly an attempted guilt-trip, telling me that something I produced hadn't met his expectations. I've since seen it, and I don't know how I could have done better with what I was given.
I've been pestered today by the people I dislike the most here. One won't fucking leave me alone. The other decided that he'd do his best to break down another of my coworkers- a guy who is the least deserving of that kind of treatment of almost anyone I know. And sure, it didn't happen to me, but I got to hear every stupid word. That was fun.
I need a break. I feel like quitting, but I can't. I can't do that to my family. But I also feel like I'm headed toward a breakdown. I sit behind the closed door of my office and try to sob as soundlessly as possible. I feel broken. I feel strained. I feel weak. I feel sick. I feel sad. I feel like I'm in mourning, but I don't know what. I don't know how far I flex. I don't know my limits. I don't know my breaking point.
I don't know how I'd break; with a bang or a whimper?
