Back

Well, I'm back after a long, hard, road trip into hell and back. With a pit stop in Coeur d'Alene, Idaho.

First, a little background. My father and mother divorced when I was seven. Since then I have only seen him for about 2 weeks every year. This still holds true even though my mother lives in Idaho and my father lives 20 minutes away. Anyway. The divorce was ugly. My father decided he didn't want a wife and children anymore, so he packed us up and shipped us to grandma's house. Nice. Since that time, he has found it necessary to bad mouth my mother any chance he gets. You may be asking how much brain damage I suffered in order to agree to spend 7 days, in a row, in a car, with him. Because I am a glutton for punishment. And I keep hoping he will miraculously change and become the father I always wanted (cue Oscar inducing music here). He is pretty well off and has always made sure we got what we wanted. Physically, not emotionally.

The trip started off okay. My baby girl is an awesome traveler. She loves car rides and can eat sitting in a carseat. So she was content as long as we stopped every so often to change her super absorbent diaper (thank you Huggies). It was me who fell apart by day 3. I was tired of hearing my step-(monster) mother tell me how I would have turned out if she had raised me and I was tired of having a numb butt from sitting in the backseat of a 1984 Lincoln Continental (looks comfy, but trust me, it ain't). Fortunately, that was about the time I got dropped off with kid in tow at my mother's house.

Mom's was a blast. Sure, baby had her moments. But, overall she was happy and we found her a very stylish hat. I actually cried when I had to leave. I don't think my dad found that as heartfelt and warm as my mom did. Teehee (I know, I'm a vindictive brat).

Lessons learned: don't agree to drive out of state with father again, try to make it to Idaho more often, and realize that people don't change the way you want them too.

Don't worry, I'll be back

Okay, so I'm going to be gone for a week. Me and the kid are taking a little road trip with my dad (remember the one who doesn't like screaming babies?). I'm excited because we're going to the town I grew up in. So, essentially, I'm going "home." I get to see my high school buddies, my cousins, my sisters and my mother. I should pretty much be full-blown crazy when I return. Should make for interesting blogging anyway.

So, play nice and be good.

And now for something completely different

for a much needed laugh, check out this

Happy 'I Got Fired' Anniversary

Today is the one year anniversary of the day I got fired from my job. Why did I get fired? I still don't know. Let's reviews the facts, shall we?

September 14th, I quietly told my boss that I was pregnant. She was excited and nervous for me, since I had suffered a miscarriage 9 months before. I gave her a note from my doctor, explaining that I was not to do any lifting of animals, or pet food over 10 lbs in weight. Oh, in case you didn't know, I worked at a veterinary hospital. Lifting animals and food were pretty much my job. She took it well and said she would be talking to the big boss, Dr. Kuhn, about it tomorrow. This was a Sunday.

Fast forward to Thursday afternoon. It was about 1pm, and I announced I would be going to lunch. My boss, Barb, called me into her office. As I was getting comfortable, she dropped the bomb.

Barb: We are letting you go today, Christina.
Me: What? Why? What?
Barb: Well, some things have been going on, as I am sure you are aware of. And we feel problems would be rectified if you were terminated.
Me: What did I do?
Barb: You know about the problems we have been having.
Me: Um...
Barb: (crying now) I am so sorry. Do you want to come get your last check tomorrow?
Me: Um...

What the fuck? Here I am a whole year later and I still don't understand that conversation. What is so funny is that no one knew I was fired for like 2 weeks. They thought I was taking time off because of my morning sickness. What the fuck?

Me being the way I am, I still obsess over this from time to time. My husband is convinced I was fired for being pregnant, but since that is illegal, they just threw some wacko excuse my way. Ah, that is what's so great about living in sunny California. You can be fired for whatever, they don't have to give you an excuse. There's a name for it, but I don't care enough to find out. My husband wanted to sue, but since I got unemployment and disability out of it, I just didn't see the point.

Actually, my point in posting this is I feel it was the best damn thing to ever happen to me. My house has never been cleaner, I get to stay home with my baby, and we eat a homecooked meal everynight.

So, thank you Valley Veterinary Hospital. Your incompetence has made my life complete.

Payback is gonna be a bitch

I've had the Jetson's theme song stuck in my head now for about 3 hours. I don't know how it got here, but the damn song is here none the less. I'm trying to kill time before I take my lovely to a birthday party. Hmph, 6 months old and already a social butterfly. My heart swells with pride.

I am always hesitant about taking her anywhere. I hate to disrupt her schedule. Usually, when we're out she's a perfect angel, but I am always in fear that she will decide that this day, this very moment when we are far from home, is the perfect time to have a spectacular meltdown. Then I will have to die of embarrassment.

It's not my fault. Everyone that meets her comments on how good and sweet she is. That brings on a lot of pressure and performance anxiety. Not in her, but me. It would be so much easier if she just cried all the time. Then the expectation bar would be a lot lower.

As you might be able to tell, I chickened out of getting medication for my "problems." About 2 hours before my appointment, I called and claimed transportation trouble. Why I can never just call and cancel without some big production number is beyond me. Everything has to have a reason.

I'm one of those people who can't say no without a "because..." Attached to it. It makes me look like a people pleaser. Ha. Most of the time, it's the drama queen in me coming out. I love to talk and I love to tell tall tales. When I was younger, I would lie just to see if I could get away with it. Made me really popular at parties in high school. Kids would come to me for the great excuses to give their parents as to why they were late getting home. Being a total party girl and rebel myself gave me lots of practice perfecting my skills on my own hapless parents. They were easy bait though. My mom actually believed me when I told her the cigarettes she found in my pocket were "a friends." Sheesh.

My mother laughs now at all the crap I pulled on her. Well, most of it. And only most of what she actually knows. Anyway, she laughs now because she knows that my kids will be the same and they will torture me just as bad, if not worse, as I tortured her. I'm so in for it.

How can you miss that?

I hated being pregnant. Every single thing about it. I had morning/afternoon/evening sickness all the way up to delivery day (I puked while pushing...Lovely), I swelled up like a beach ball, I couldn't eat anything without gagging or outright puking (except oranges...mmm oranges), and by month 7 I could no longer feel my hips and thighs, except for the syatic pain searing done my right leg. And now I want to do it all over again. Why?

Well, most of you know the obvious reason (actually, I hope you all know). But, there is another reason and I'm almost afraid to share. Yeah, that's funny.

I'm a drama queen. I love attention. Never was I happier than when I was pregnant. Everyone doted on me and I basked in all that glory. My husband stayed home every night to watch bad TV with me, my mother-in-law actually left me alone (halleighluia). Then, at the hospital, there was actually women paid to give me attention. It was heavenly.

I know it sounds conceited and not the right reason to have children, but who cares? Hate me if you must. Now, since I'm not pregnant anymore, I'm not getting as much attention. It's okay though, my daughter gets a lot. So, I live vicariously through her. It's great. Nothing beats the rush you get when someone compliments you on your offspring. Though you had absolutely nothing to do with how she came out looking, you can pretend and graciously say "thank you" all the while thinking, damn, I do make some good looking babies. Husband and I need to make more. This world needs more beautiful people. This isn't healthy I know, but I gotta get my kicks somewhere, right?

Confessions of a Reality Show junkie

It started out innocent enough. Just a little Real World here and there, then some Road Rules. But, it is now officially out of control. I can barely keep all the shows I watch straight.

Sundays: I have my evening fix of Surreal Life. Now, to be fair, I only watch this because I am a recovering New Kids on the Block addict and since Jordan Knight is a cast member I can categorize this under a NKOTB relapse.

Mondays: I get my fix with a little Dr. 90210 and Family Plots. If I'm really in a desperate state I will watch Fear Factor, but that Joe Rogan really knows how to kill a good reality buzz.

Tuesdays: This is a hard day for me. I have to find a way to squeeze Dr. Phil, Trading Spouses, Last Comic Standing, and Totally Obsessed all into the coveted 8 o'clock time slot. Never has TiVo looked so damned appealing. Damn my husband for seeing that this would only feed my addiction. Damn him.

Oh yeah, don't forget Big Brother and the Amazing Race. Usually, after Amazing Race I am a little too pumped up to go to bed. Especially with that Colin jackass they have this season. Best line ever: "my ox is broken!"

Wednesdays: Amish and the City and Dr. Phil baby.

Thursdays: It's all about Survivor. But can they ever top Rupert?

Funny story: my daughter was induced on a Wednesday. On the way to the hospital Tuesday night, I remember that Survivor All stars will be on Wednesday instead of Thursday. I freak. I tell my husband that she had better come out before 8 o'clock or she is grounded. He thought I was joking, since I didn't miss the show, I let him think that I was.

Fridays: Dr Phil and While you were out. I refuse to watch America's Next Top Model. I tried I really did with the first season, but those girls were so stupid. And I'm sorry, but even this junkie can't sit through an hour of Tyra Banks.

Saturdays: Big Brother baby.

So, you see why motherhood seems to be dragging me down? Thank god reality TV is set for evening times or my daughter would have to become nocturnal.

Our "first born"

This is Kaya, our chihuahua, in a picture just too cute for words. It may look like she's snuggling up to the baby, but what she is really doing is stealing the body heat of our child. She's really good at doing that. She'll snuggle up to me at night and I think, oh Kaya does love me, but if I try to snuggle back, watch out! Fortunately, she has enough brains in that wee little head to know not to even look cross-eyes at the baby, or it's off to a lovely farm where she can run free.

We were really worried about bringing the baby home and how Kaya would react to her. For the 37 weeks I was pregnant, Kaya was, what we termed, my "practice baby." Oh, I loved her so, so much. I would take her everywhere with me, snuggle with her while I sat on my growing ass watching Golden Girls (don't ask) and eating oranges by the dozen (and yes I even shared my orangey goodness with her). Ms. Kaya was top dog, and had been for 2 1/2 years. Then her pedestal came crashing down and here was this little, pink, oh-so-good smelling package that mama seemed to love more (I'll admit it, I do). My mother warned me that while I would still love the dog, my patience with her would wear thin. I laughed and said no, Kaya is like my first born.

That changed and quickly. Poor Kaya didn't know what to think. Suddenly, she wasn't allowed to jump all over mama, wasn't allowed on the couch, and forget trying to kiss the oh-so-good smelling package. She has done remarkably well though readjusting into a life of a dog. She and the baby are terrific friends and she pretends not to mind when her tail gets yanked of her fur gets slobbered on. And, I think she's realized that the oh-so-good smelling package has it's benefits, like free food spit across the room for her to chase, and a heater that doesn't kick as hard as the bigger heaters. We're a nice happy family.

I have to admit it's getting better, a little better all the time

Well, I've talked myself down from the ledge of dispair I was on. In case anyone was wondering, little Allie earned her angel wings last night at about 11pm. I didn't cry as much as I thought, it's just good to know she's out of pain and in a happy place now. Anyway.

I've decided to give the medication another whirl. I think a decent nights sleep and a day of normal worries is worth it. I made an appointment with Dr. Feelgood (so named for his love of pills) for Thursday morning. I'm thinking therapy might work too. Yes, I'll admit it here: Christina is a little crazy. I come from a long line a crazies.

So, I have a job now! I watch my friend's 10 year old and 9 year old after school every day. It's an easy job, they pretty much watch themselves. And they like to help with the baby. No complaining here about that. I'm basically getting paid to train my future babysitters. It's great. And, with all this money I am going to spend it on me. Only me. I have such a hard time with that, I'm one of those women that likes shopping for others and not herself. I can't remember the last time I bought myself clothing. Oh wait. Maternity pants, but that was it and only because it was totally necessary. This should be fun.

So, I'm coming up on my supposed ovulation time. Let's see how this works. I have to make an appointment for my dreaded yearly pap, so maybe I'll discuss it with Dr. Nice (so named because she is). I just don't want clomid shoved at me and all that. But, I'm future tripping where I don't need to be. So, I'll leave it at that.

Life really sucks sometimes

So, I've been following the story of a little baby named Allie, who was diagnosed with Acute Myeloid Leukemia in April of this year. She will probably die sometime this week. She is just shy of 9 months old. This sucks.

I am to the point of almost obsession over this little girl and her mother's brave journal. My husband has begged and pleaded for me to stop reading it, that I am driving myself crazy over a family I don't know. But, I can't. I just can't. So, every day I bawl my eyes out, and curse God and all that. All over a sweet baby I will never meet.

The "what if's" play out in my head all day long. What if this were happening to my baby and family? What if, at her next appointment, the doctor finds something wrong with my angel? What if, what if, what if? I'm really good at driving myself crazy.

During my entire pregnancy I surfed the 'net reading about miscarriage and still birth. I watched terrible shows like Maternity Ward and Birth Day, where the narrator always has you hanging on to your seat wondering if every birth is just so dangerous, and why would women choose this on purpose. Then after labor and delivery I became obsessed about SIDS. Now, I'm obsessed with horrible, scary diseases, some the names I can't even pronounce. Why can't I shut my brain off?

This has always been the way I am. I have this morbid fascination with all things regarding death and despair. My favorite shows are Six Feet Under, The Autopsy Series, and Family Plots. How's that for family viewing? My husband jokes that I am just studying on the best way to kill him and get away with it. Sometimes I tell him I am. And I'm not joking.

I've always thought that this was an okay obsession to have, that it wasn't harming anyone. But, now I have a child and I'm trying to have another and I wonder what kind of life will they have growing up with a death-obsessed mother. Will I become on of these overbearing, overprotective kooks who won't let my kids go to school for fear of every crazy with a gun? Will I never let them go over to a friends for a sleep over for fear of the pedophiliac father?

I'm trying really hard, but some days it's difficult. Pessimism is a word that describes me to a tee. My husband and I were discussing me going back on medication for my "quirks." I really loathe that idea because I feel, for me, that the drugs rob me of some vital part of my personality. I am in no way talking down about medication for mood disorders here. I think they are wonderful and should be used when needed. It's just for myself, I hate the feeling of needing a pill to make me "normal." But, looking at that beautiful face every day, maybe it's all worth it.

Who knew I could make something so damn cute?

Getting to know you

My husband and I are getting to know each other again. We've really drifted apart these last six months. First, my mother came for a visit when baby was 2 weeks old. She stayed for a week. Then my sister came right after for 2 weeks, then his brother moved in. Now that it's just me, him and the little princess we don't know what to do with each other.

I hadn't even realized how different our routines are. He works almost 7 days a week (taking one day off every 13 days) and when he gets home, we eat, put lovely to bed, then go our separate ways. He to his "man room," me to the office to zone out on the internet. I seem to remember being upset about never seeing him like 3 months ago. When and how did that change?

I was looking at him last night and realized our first wedding anniversary is coming up. And I hadn't even thought of what we would do or what I would get him. I mentioned this to him and he pointed out that our daughter has a doctor's appointment that day, so we will spend it together then. How very romantic indeed.

This morning we had a great talk about how each of us felt about the other. He said he was a little sad because he was no longer number one in my book. Did it make him feel better to know he's now a close second, I asked. He laughed and said that it worked for him.

Our relationship has always been a little different. We never had that "honeymoon phase" where we call each other lovey and kiss every 2 seconds. We don't cuddle much (I have this thing about skin touching skin), and we don't have much in common. Like, shows he loves to watch I hate. Food he hates, I love (come on who in their right mind doesn't like apple pie?). But we love each other very much and that has always worked for us.

I'm enjoying have him almost all to myself again. I don't even mind the little woman that's come between us now.

Blah, and other ramblings from my head

I'm not in a good mood today, but neither am I in a bad mood. I'm blah. Blah girl, here for all your boredom needs.

So, my evil brother-in-law, who was living with us, is gone. Yippee. To celebrate, my husband and I ran around in our underwear last night. I wouldn't recommend cooking half naked, I think you know why.

I took darling daughter to Sear's for her portraits yesterday. Had to wait 2 fricking hours. What is the point of making an appointment, if they just take any walk-in ahead of you? What a pain. Luckily, my baby is a good baby and performed her duty beautifully.

I feel as though I am in laundry hell. Having a baby I thought would up my laundry time, but no. She only needs laundry done once a week. It's me that has a sudden increase of dirty clothes. Baby puke on every shirt I own. Gross.

I'm going on a road trip with my father next week. My father who can't stand crying babies. Yeah, and we're bringing my crying baby. This should be fun.

On the plus side, I get to see my mom on said roadtrip! Oh yeah and my three sisters too.

I spent too much money on baby crap today at WalMart. My baby now has more, way more, clothing than me. This is somehow very depressing to me.

I wore makeup today in who knows how long. I still feel pretty blah.

'Cause I'm a super klutz, a super klutz, I'm super klutzy...Yeah

What were the gods thinking, giving me a child? Don't they know I can't walk down a hallway without bruising my arm on that damn doorknob every single time. We call it a perma-bruise. I have many. I know children are resilient because there is a doorjam I bump baby's head on at least once daily. She never cries, such a brave girl. She knows she got a crappy deal on this graceful mommy bit, so she keeps a stiff upperlip (now there is a saying I never understood).

In the last week I have managed to cut not one, but two fingers opening cans (corn and beans respectfully), then last night I burned my nose cooking dinner. That's right, my nose. Instead of using a spoon to dip into the sauce, I used my finger. The finger I cut rather nicely the other week on a can of corn. In went the finger, out came the finger on fire! Hot sauce comin' atchya. And so, I did what any human does when confronted with heat. I screeched and waved my hand around like an idiot. All the while screaming "hot..hot...HOT" And wouldn't you know, some sauce flung itself onto my nose, creating an instant-blister. Great. I'm taking it in stride though. Just add it to my growing file of "bone-head things Christina has done to herself." The file is getting a little large.

How will my daughter survive me? With a helmet and kneepads? That just might not be that bad of an idea.

The bummer post

If you'll recall, in my very first post ever I discuss motherhood and how boring it seems. Well, things have gotten more exciting in the last few months, at least for me. For my baby? Well, now I think she is bored with me.

I'm having a very hard time with this. I have recently discovered that I don't relate well to almost 6 month old babies. I have always thought that I was a kid-kind-of-a-person, but it turns out I'm a other-people's-kid-kind-of-a-person. My days start out great, I feed her then we watch Bear in the Big Blue House together, then she plays in her jumperoo until her morning nap. After that it is all down hill. I start panicking around noon. What will I do with her next. How can I keep her entertained for 7 more hours until she goes to sleep for the night. I find that I am having severe performance anxiety. And, let me tell you, I think she's on to me.

Things that kept her happy yesterday piss her off today. Toys she hated yesterday are all she wants today. I can't keep track. And, I've mentioned her rolling before, she's gotten very good at it and can roll the span of our living room in about 10 seconds flat. I seriously doubt she will ever crawl. Why should she when rolling gets her from point A to point B so nicely. It's a little frightening how fast she moves. I left her in front of out entertainment center yesterday so I could get a drink and when I returned she was half way down the hall. But, she rolls so quietly and mostly when you aren't looking, so it's a little like a horror movie where objects keep moving closer to you, yet you never see if happen. I just know she is going to be like this when she's older, sneaking up on my husband and me while we're doing something. Something naughty.

So, back to the boredom. I believe she is bored with having me here all day, every day. She's fussy when I hold her or try to play with her. She prefers to lay in her crib, or on the floor by herself. When my husband gets home, she squeals and giggles. Let me tell you, it hurts my feelings. I know that's gotta be PMS and sleep deprivation talking if my feelings are hurt by a 5 1/2 month old baby. But, I have always been sensitive. My mother says more a drama queen, but whatever.

Is motherhood supposed to be like this? I thought it would be hard yes, but also the best time of my life. Instead I feel like I'm auditioning for the roll of my life and failing miserably. Please, tell me it gets better.

See, I knew there was a reason for all of this

I am in love with the blogging world. This is where I have found my sisters, the women who truly understand me. I get them.

I am on the computer most of the day. Wait, that sounds bad. But, it's true. Luckily, right now my baby is at the delicate age where she needs sleep more than anything, and I am happy to oblige. I don't know what I will do when she gets older. You may have to remove the computer from my house, lest my child become malnourished and raised by the Wiggles and Barney, God forbid.

The computer and the people I find on it are the closest things to friends I have. Don't get me wrong, I have human friends (really I swear), but none of them have children and none of them even want children. So, it makes getting together slightly difficult. One friend actually wondered why I couldn't just leave the baby sleeping while we ran across the road to Taco Bell. What? Are you kidding? Her argument was that the baby wouldn't wake up and we'd only be gone for like 15 minutes. All I can say is, thank God she hasn't reproduced. Can you imagine?

So, dear blogging sisters, this is why you are all so dear to me. I know you will never try and talk me into leaving my precious for the glory that is a bean burrito for $0.99 (side note: my spell checker just recommended purity for burrito...hmmm).

Okay, yeah

So we're officially trying to concieve. The reason for the "so soon" is because it took us five years and two losses to produce our angel. So, God willing, we'll have another little one by the time our current little one* is in school.

I'll admit now that I am scared. Scared of how long it will take. Scared that I might suffer another miscarriage. That would suck, to put it bluntly. But, in the name of reproduction I will fight on. I've dreamed since a was "this high" that I would have two children. And I'm going to give it my all.

What I hate about trying to make a baby is how addicted to peeing on sticks I get. It's all I can think about. And when I pee on one, I over-analyze it. I stare at it under every bright light in the house, trying to see the two magic lines. But, I will admit, I find that kinda fun. Now, they've come out with those damn electronic ones that say, clear-as-day, "NOT PREGNANT" Sheesh, could they be any more harsh and rude. Couldn't they say something like, "we are so, so sorry but it's just not the right time for you to be pregnant. This will all work out according to God's plan" Okay it's a little long, but makes me feel better. Though, I think they would have trouble fitting all that into the little window. Then you also have the problem on God's name in there. I can just see the uproar that would cause. So, EPT should be happy I don't work for their advertising company, or we'd all be screwed.