in it to win it

If there is one thing I am sure of, it is that this summer is going to be more than just coasting by.  Erik, Boo, and I are going to DO things.  We are going to LEAVE THE HOUSE and be active.  We are going to hit splashpads, waterparks, zoos, museums, see friends and family, and enjoy each others' company.  Erik and I are going to remember that life is about experience, and Boo's got a lot to catch up on (compared to us).

Last year I spent most of my time still reeling, in shock from the transition from bakery to deli, from one company to the next, to working a solid wall of second shift and feeling cut off from the world.  Well, y'know, not much has changed in my work situation since then, but dammit, I am so SICK of it dictating how I am and what my outlook is like.  I AM NOT MY JOB.  I work to live, but I'll be damned if I live to work.  My first priority will always be to myself and my family.  My guys are the gravy to my potatoes, the peanut butter to my jelly, and if my mother's death taught me anything, it was to enjoy every damn minute because who the hell knows when it will be your last.

Rise and shine, World.  I'm on my way.

dreams

I was in labor, giving birth vaginally despite the whole "You can't have a vbac!" thing... because I was having a girl.  I distinctly remember the feel of the baby entering the birth canal, the crowning, and then the actual birth itself.  These sensations were so vivid.

And then we all saw that the baby was a boy instead.  And they clucked at me for fooling them into having a vbac birth instead of a c-section (because, obviously, having a boy made it dangerous).  I ignored them and welcomed the baby by name, his face still covered in white vernix and absolutely beautiful.

Then I woke up.

over it

Some days it really is overwhelming and daunting that I am the primary breadwinner.  I am sick of being the one to pay all the bills, to buy all the treats, to pay for all medical bills with MY flex money, and to tuck some money aside for "us" as well as Boo.

Yes, Erik has a job.  Sure, he buys the groceries...  Sure, sometimes he remembers to give me some money to help pay for the fancy phone and phone plan we HAD to have...  But sometimes is not regular enough, and it's still just me, paying everything.

I want to be the one who works four hours a day and then comes home and spends the rest of the day with my son, fitting in a nap and some tv.  I want to be the one where, if I wake up too early (or, like today, Boo wakes up too early), I don't feel like the world is ending because I'm over-tired and still have to deal with entitled customers instead getting an hour or so of much-needed shuteye.

I am sick of being the one to tow the line.  It's been four years now.  I'm over it already.  I want a fucking reprieve.  I want validation, that all this has been for something and that sometime soon I will get some kind of reward.  And I want to feel like I'm not whining when I express what I want.

trying

Y'know, when you're trying to get pregnant, and it's just not happening, it doesn't really help that it then seems like every damn woman around you is getting pregnant before you.  In an irrational way, in the way the mind tends to be, you think, "It's so not fair."  As if conceiving a child is a game, or something you can measure by a term like "fair."

It doesn't help that with this winter dragging on (and February, being the shortest month, feels like the freakin' longest), morale is down in the dumps.  Erik and I are both snippy and crabby and feeling down.  I think the "push" this month was too full-frontal, too tacky, too much.  There was nothing joyous about it, and therefore, nothing will come to fruition.  I know this. 

My problem is I really do want it too much.  In a desperately needy way.  I vacillate between being okay with it happening when it will and then panicking that because it hasn't happened already, it won't happen at all.  Pure bollocks, I know.  I know!  Take a chill already, right? 

And I AM enjoying Boo and my time with him.  He's just so amazing.  With his expanding vocabulary and ability to communicate, this is a new time of wonder, like all the other times of wonders for different reasons.  We broke out the Little People stuff that we'd packed away, and now we have to play a lot with him.  You take a figure and he'll take a figure and you'll talk.  His pretend voice starts with a low "Hi," and it cracks me the hell up every. damn. time.  I love that kid so much.  He's my all.

So when I feel needy and nutty, I just have to remember to breathe, that I have plenty right now, and an extra plenty would be an added bonus.  To quote Finding Nemo...  "Just keep swimming."

loss

I feel like such a hysterical knee-jerker.  I feel the symptoms and I want the result, but the test is showing a negative.  It's still early, still early.  What gives body?

*******

Since Erik's grandmother died, I've found myself in this weird headspace.  I mean, as far as grandma goes, I have no regrets as to our relationship or where we stood.  There's no unclosed closure, no misunderstandings.  Two days before she passed, I was able to give her a hug and kiss her goodbye and tell her I loved her.  

Doing that, however, made me realize that being ABLE to do such is quite the luxury and that, even over eight years later, I still have these tiny regrets over my own mother.  Because her death was an accident, I had no warning, no parting words or hugs & kisses.  I have this slight lingering thing where I self-flagellate for not having answered the phone, for not having made time for her, to talk or to visit.  The last time I saw her was two weeks before, at my house, and I remember the last words I said to her.  "You be careful," I said as I hugged her tight.  "Always," she replied as she gave me a kiss.  And that was it.  I let the answering machine pick up her phone calls because I couldn't be "bothered" with her hour-long gab-fests.  Bothered.  By my own mother.  Oh, how I wish I had known.  I would have let her talk into the wee hours of dawn if I had known.  

As for those phonecalls, my mother was just lonely, and I was her daughter.  I was born on her birthday, and we'd always shared a special bond.  Thing is, as with a good portion of new adults, you fell that you have to distance yourself from your parents before returning to them, to gain an identity, to be able to communicate as adults instead of parent/child.  I did that, too, but I was returning.  Her death stopped us from achieving completion.

But, as with accidents, there is no way of knowing.  That's what an accident is, and it's not like you expect to be planning a funeral for your 55 year old mother who had survived an abusive marriage as well as a battle with breast cancer.  How could you?  And so something I'm still struggling with is that I didn't get to say goodbye, and I can only hope and conjecture that she knew how much I loved her (and still do love her).  Sometimes I still see signs that remind me of her, and I like to think that she's putting them out there just for me, to let me know she's there, that she loves me, and that she understands.

candle vigil

Erik's paternal grandmother died this morning.  She'd been failing for a while, so it wasn't a huge surprise.  Still, it's sad.  Erik and Boo went out last night while I was at work and sat with her and his parents.  I was stuck at work and felt really helpless, but I'm glad they were able to be there.  I'm glad she was surrounded by people who love her on her last night in this world.

On the flip side, I have been experiencing PMS symptoms, yet I'm not due to have my period for another week.  So, please cross your fingers, light a candle, hope a little hope.  Not only would I be happy to be pregnant already, it would be good timing.  And if it is a reality, maybe I can have a little girl due in October.  Even though Boo says that he doesn't want a little brother or sister.  Ha.  Silly kid.

Much love all around. 

afloat

The best blogging is done at turbulent times, apparently.  Which is why I haven't posted in a while.

Once I realized that it wasn't just my manager gunning for me, somehow it was  better.  Higher ups, well, I've been threatened by THEM before, and if I lose my job, well, there are ways to make life work.  It'd be tight, but it would work.  Until that time, I am hanging on to what I have and doing my absolute best.  Make them feel like rot for getting me gone.  And for getting me gone because I make too much money and my benefits cost too much.  Because, in the end, that's what matters to corporations, apparently.

And once I realized that if I get pregnant, I will when it's the right time, I stopped being whiny and stressing out about it.  Now, that doesn't mean that I don't plan on lots of sex during the "fertile" time of the month, and that doesn't mean that I'm not a bit sad when I get my period.  It does mean, though, that I look at the next month as a new start.  A baby will come along if it's meant to do so.  I can do all the right things at the right times, but ultimately it's all a big game of chance.  I'm playing my hardest.

My more zen approach can also be attributed to the fact that I'm going on vacation in a week.  The prospect of time off always bring about happy feelings and forgiveness.  That, and I'm THIS close to being able to work on taxes.  Here's to hoping that my pension pay-out doesn't screw us over too much!  We have big things to purchase this year!  (Like maybe siding.)

Until the days prove otherwise, I'm just going to keep on swimming.  It's all I can do.