You can't see me, but I can see you

Having made a hair appointment for next Saturday afternoon, I'm now contemplating what exactly I should do with my too thick, non-shedding, once layered but now grown out, no style havin' mop. It's not horrible... if I take the time to blow it out and flat iron it, it's not half bad. But I need the bulk taken out, and I need everything properly proportioned. The one option I'm considering, as always, is getting bangs.

Ah, yes, bangs. My love/hate object in the world of hair. They always seem like such a good idea, and at first they work so well. Then a few weeks down the road I find myself cursing them, and I'm furious for once again letting them trick me into thinking this was a good idea when I knew full well I'd be filled with regret. It's not only an upkeep issue. When you're used to not having to style bangs (and let's face it, with bangs you HAVE to style them), the first day you're running late or having a bad hair day all you want to do is not have bangs anymore, and you're reaching for the bobby pins. With me, this usually happens within the first two weeks.

Watching Heidi Klum on "Project Runway" has brought to my attention a disturbing trend in bangs of the rich and famous, i.e. people who have their hair done by a stylist all the time and don't have to worry about doing their own bangs. Everyone now seems to have these sheepdog bangs that cover their eyebrows and dangle about a millimeter above their eyeballs. The bangs actually mix in with the lashes, and it drives me absolutely wild with discomfort. How can this be? So it's now in fashion to have your hair in your eyes at all times? God bless anyone who can pull off this look. If you can do it without going completely bananas in the first five minutes, then you go on and rock it. You're way better at wearing fashion hair than I.

Early bird, no worm

Right now it's 5:31. A.M. I've been up for about an hour. Had to pee. Then laid in bed for a while. Had to pee again. Then couldn't fall back to sleep. Got up for a bowl of cereal and here I am on the computer. Frosted mini shredded wheat isn't as filling as I anticipated. Caught up on budget organization and checked things off to-do lists. Then added more things to to-do list. House smells like turkey bacon from last night's 11:30 super salad frenzy. Trying to figure out how to plan the day... in a stroke of brilliance I scheduled today's doctor appointment for 1:45, which is right in the middle of nap time.

Can't stop thinking about the c-section. All the weird details have started popping back into my head. I used to think c-sections were the easy way out for having a baby. I've got nothing to compare notes with, but there are some really not fun things involved. And those are the things I can't stop mulling over. For instance... something know to me only as "bladder trauma". Which I'm sure happens with regular birth. It must. Anyway, after Nico, I would wake up every three or four hours and have to pee. Not just ho-hum tinkle, but this crazy urgency. Enhanced by what I can only describe as having someone sticking some straight pins into... well, you know where. It eased up over the first few weeks of recovery. When I asked the nurse about it, and some other pains I kept having, she gently reminded me that they do a lot of moving things around in there when they do the surgery. Aha... you see, even though I'd been through it, I still had a very neat and tidy image in my mind of what they do down there when they deliver the baby. I tuned her out after I heard "bladder trauma" and "clamped open". It's so silly to idealize it, but maybe it's some kind of defense mechanism. I don't know. Makes me wish I could just snap my fingers and *poof* oh, how nice, a baby! And a perfectly flat tummy, too? Aww, you shouldn't have!

I'm not going to go crazy shopping for stuff this time around. The only thing I really need to get are slippers and a coming home outfit for the baby. Oh, that thing about having to pee real real real bad... this time instead of crying and getting Frank to carry me to the bathroom, I'm probably just going to bring home a stack of those big pad things they put in your bed at the hospital. Hind sight is 20/20... those things are there for a reason -- duh! -- but I was too shy to figure it out and put them to good use. This time I will not be so polite, and I won't feel the least bit bad about letting out some of the pee pees so that I can stand up and walk to the potty on my own. Nothing makes you feel more dependent than having someone take you to the bathroom.

A little breaky-poo

So it's about that time... my body is just begging me for some rest. I've been nesting and every hour I spend on my feet or doing housework, I have started to feel in my back and belly and hips. I'm starting to spend less and less time on the computer now that work has wound down and I'm finishing up Fay's invitation package. There is a list of "those little things" I've been meaning to do around the house, and they're actually starting to get done, so I must really mean business. In four weeks Miss Olivia will be full term and in no more than seven weeks I'll be holding her for the first time.

Ok so today not only did I clean the crud out of the little vents at the top of the front of my oven door, I wiped down all the cabinets, washed the fabric part of the infant car seat (along with a few house blankets), and made batches of applesauce and pasta sauce to freeze for Nico. By dinner time I was so exhausted and I hadn't even gotten to all the things I pictured myself finishing today. Oh well... I guess I'll pick up tomorrow and keep going. As the weeks pass I find myself with less and less free time, so my writing here may be one of the things to suffer while I get ready for the new baby. Right now my eyes are closing and my head is all blurry and I need some sleep... which hasn't been coming easy lately with the baby waking me all night long with rounds of kicking and wiggling around. After having a few people, including Mom tonight, tell me it looks like the baby has dropped, now that I look at myself in the mirror I suppose she has. No wonder I feel like such a whale.

I just dug my 'going to the hospital' bag out of the closet and I've already put a pair of socks and one pair of c-section friendly panties in there. Yes, grannies. I had to buy some -- just ONE pack -- last time after I exhausted the supply of disposable boy shorts I brought home from the hospital. They are the best idea in post partumwear, those hospital panties... little mesh undies with no elastic to dig into your staples... nothing to clean up next time you have to pee, just toss the whole deal and put on a new pair. Heck you could even pee in them and so what! You've already bled all over them so it's not like anyone's going to call you on it. Isn't that charming... hehe... oh, the mental preparation I can do this time around... it's saving me a lot of stress already knowing what to expect. I guess I'm looking forward to mainly three things. Having the baby, being served all my meals for a few days and choosing whatever I wish, and the disposable boy shorts. Is that four things? Sorry, I'm tired.

I love Old Men

Anybody watch the Oscars last night? Ok so then you know "No Country for Old Men" won Best Picture. Normally I wouldn't have seen this movie, or many of the now-in-theaters films I've been able to watch lately. Through the miracle of modern piracy I've been able to see many of the Oscar nominated performances from this year. Go figure.

The new thing to do at night around here is watch movies. Frank and I spend a few hours doing our own thing, then around 11 we brush, floss, and he picks out a movie to watch. Recent favorites inculde "Juno", "Sicko", and "No Country for Old Men", which I came in on a few minutes late but still thought was fantastic. I love me some Josh Brolin and I have to admit I had no idea what I was watching until I asked what movie it was. And thanks to the semi-bubble in which I live, I honestly hadn't even heard of it until it was right in front of me. Nor did I know, until the end credits, that it's a Cohen brothers movie. Even better.

It's been a while since I've seen anything in an actual movie theater. The last time I went was to see "The Departed". So you don't have to listen when I tell you to go see this movie. But you should. While you're at it, time your trip to the theater so you can sneak into "Juno" and see that as well. Just make sure you buy the super combo soda and popcorn. Yum yum.

Electronic purge

I had 12 pages of emails in my inbox. Sometimes I go a couple of months without cleaning old junk out of there, so tonight when I noticed how full it had gotten I decided to just delete, delete, delete. I went through all my folders and deleted so many emails on the spot. It's tough with some of them. I think gee, maybe I'll need this or hmm, what if someone asks me for this and I have to explain by saying oh sorry, I just cleaned out my emails and I don't have it any more.

Once, maybe twice in my whole professional career, I needed a file and information from an email about six months down the road. I think that haunts me a little, because it reminds me that I could save face by saying that yes, I have that old email and I can prove I sent what I said I did. There was a time when I was more concerned about people giving me grief, and having them say well are you sure you sent this, and well so and so says he doesn't have it, and so on and such. Those were some of the most irritating moments of my life. When you are telling someone they have to take your word for it that you did something correctly, but they keep hounding you until you show you're telling the truth... I don't miss those days one little bit.

One thing I now enjoy is the increased confidence I have in myself. I know what's going on, I have nice clients, and they never make me feel like I have to prove anything. I can sit at my computer and do my stuff. While I was going through all these emails, many of them from jobs that are finished, I didn't get any huge anxiety about emptying my trash can. It makes me feel better to clean out the old stuff and make room for new things to come in. Now there are three emails in my main inbox, and I feel like I can breathe.

Go, me.

I'm so proud of myself.

I've been looking forward to my maternity leave. Not that I work on freelance projects every day, but when I do I usually save the work for evenings. It makes for some long nights even if it's just a few hours worth of work. I might estimate something will take 45 minutes, then three hours later I'm still there fiddling with it. Today when Nico went in for his nap, I wasn't really tired enough to sleep well so I figured what the heck, let me finish up that one logo I've got in the works. It's one of Kathy's clients so I don't have to talk directly to them, but I know the schedule for it is very relaxed. A 'get it done when you get to it' kind of thing. I half expected myself to get started, then get sleepy, and leave it for Sunday night... but nope! I did get a little sleepy, but in the interest of wrapping things up I rubbed my eyes, took a deep breath, and kept on going. It was such a nice feeling to finish up, send the files, and know that tonight I could just relax and kick back. Except for a re-send for sizing, it looks like it's all finished. Check, please.

As with most of my work, this money is spent before I even see the check. I'm in my friend Fay's wedding in four months, and Nico is too -- he's going to be the ring bearer. hehehe. I can't wait to see him in a toddler tux. So we've got a few things to take care of and the money from this job will make it easier on the house budget. This client is also going to want a letterhead package, and if I get the offer to do it I'm going to say screw the maternity leave and take the job. I can deal with a few more long nights. I like money.

Sometimes, as much as I love being a SAHM, I miss bringing home a paycheck at the end of the week. It's not always convenient, but keeping up at least a little of my working self makes me feel whole. Sometimes I feel like I left a big part of myself behind by leaving my job. Now that I've done it, I feel like a different person... like even if I went back to work now it just wouldn't be right, and it wouldn't be me. I'm just not that person anymore. But the creativity and the desire to use it, that's still a part of me. It's something I've realized I actually like to do. So... go, me.

Celeb-brat-ties

I hate myself for saying this, but I'm hooked on "Celebrity Apprentice". Oh, celebrities. Some of them I love, some of them I hate, and some of them I want to punch in the face but not leave the show because they are just too ridiculous. Their bratty behavior is so entertaining.

The show also forced a surprising change in my own unfamous life. For about three years I have imagined that if I were to become overly consumed with my public image and being fabulous, I would want to be Victoria Beckham. Posh has officially been replaced. By Ivanka Trump. To be Ivanka, I wouldn't have to do all the superficial crap, but intelligence and fabulousness would surround me automatically and I wouldn't even have to get honeydew melon boobies or squeeze into ridiculously tiny clothing. Trump should make an "Apprentice" with just Ivanka, and the show should follow her around so we can see just how super Ivanky she really is.

Ok this post is eating up my Ivanka-watching time, so I have to go. Right now.

The drink

Come April, if you should find yourself wondering what you could possibly carry along when you come to meet Olivia, I have one suggestion. Bring Guinness. Sure, it'll be nice to have some tiny girly clothes to fill the pink void. But if you were to ask me what I really need, it's a cool bottle of Dublin's finest.

Guinness hasn't always been my most beloved alcoholic beverage. We all go through our phases, I suppose. My personal taste has matured greatly since high school when the drink of choice was Wild Berry Mad Dog 20/20. Oh, sure, some girls went for the Boone's, but not me. Let's not forget the 40 oz. of Old E. An early 90s classic. Then in college it was beer, usually cheap ass and straight from the keg. Sometimes straight from the tap while doing a head stand. Other college favorites included the White Russian, Malibu Bay Breeze, and Vodka Cranberry. I still enjoy a good Caucasian (especially while watching "The Big Lebowski") every now and again. The gin and tonic, or vodka tonic in a pinch, saw me through my late twenties and is still at the top of the list. Only in my thirties it's called a Sapphire and tonic, lest I be served some unsavory blend of turpentine as a Bombay substitute.

Over the past few years, Guinness has become my favorite way to get spirited. When the weather gets springy and the birds start chirping, I'll be looking forward to my first trip back to the liquor store. But only if you don't beat me to it and fill my fridge before I get a chance to leave the house. After all, I'll still need a week or so to wean off the painkillers.

** For my sister, the future professional baker... your answer to the question "What can I bring?" will remain Flourless Chocolate Torte. **

I'm totally boring

Ok so last night I was on chat with my friend Jen. We haven't been on chat too often lately. I've been avoiding the computer for the most part, except to do bills and check email. She has been pretty busy the past few weeks, so she hasn't been on much either. So last night we both happened to be on, and I so wanted to chat but couldn't think of very many things to say. Has that ever happened to you? You miss talking to somebody and you want to blab away, but you seem to have nothing new to say? Well that happened with me last night. I felt like I wrote a lot but didn't say much, you know what I mean?

I'm just totally boring. I'm in an all-consuming state of being right now. Much of what I think and talk about seems to be baby, baby, baby. Some days I find myself making such an effort not to talk about anything that has to do with pregnancy or kids, and it can be so difficult. I think it's because I'm immersed in it... I'm a pregnant stay-at-homer and there's not much variety in that lately. By the time I clean up from breakfast, it's time to get snack or lunch ready, then it's nap time, then dinner, bath, snack and bed. The days can seem so long, but then at the end of the day I wonder where the time went. And where I'm going to find the time to finish up all the things I didn't get to do while the sun was still out.

Ugh... see, even here I can't talk about anything but the same old stuff. I really am boring. Ugh.

Thoughts and belly update

Can't seem to gather any worthwhile thoughts together the past couple of days. Nothing is happening upstairs lately, it seems. Maybe I'm preoccupied, maybe my mind just needs a break, or it could be there's not much to talk about. Sometimes I feel worn out on chatting about my daily life. Even I get sick of talking about myself every once in a while. Figure that.

But here's something I have been mulling over and over. When change happens in my life, I change as a person. This used to be frightening for me. It took me a good 29 or 30 years to figure myself out, and I can't say I always welcomed change along the way. Now, though, I find it exciting. Sure, it's still a little scary not knowing how I'll be different or how long it will take me to settle into the new sense of self. But instead of change turning me upside down, now I feel like it pushes me forward and that's a much, much easier direction to embrace.

On Friday I had what should be the final ultrasound, the growth check. Baby looks good, and my uterus is as stunning as ever. Olivia now weighs four pounds. It's hard to believe she was just a little bean a few months ago. I was making Dr. Cortese giggle because I kept saying, "So if I go into labor before the 17th, I just go to the hospital, right? I just call when I think it's time?" and so on and such. He kept saying it'll be fine, don't worry, they'll take care of everything. I don't know why I was being so goofy. Probably seeing the that the baby has gotten so big made it click in my head that, yes, this is really happening, and soon. Time to go buy an outfit for baby to wear home from the hospital.

So this day started out gloomy and turned beautiful. We've got the porch door open and it feels like spring. Aaaah! So far this coming week there aren't many plans to be followed as far as things we have to do. Should be a nice break for my head, just to get clear before March when I'll be in super prep mode.

Happy Valentine

Maybe I need to put a nice window in my shower. A little fresh air seems to do a world of good. Tonight I took out the trash and it's chilly but beautiful out, the sky is clear, and the ground has that blue-ish moonbeamy tint.

So today is Valentine's Day. I hope it's a happy one for everybody. Mine sure has been great so far. I didn't decorate, which I feel slightly guilty about. The past few days I've been reluctant to leave the house, so my home's Valentine spirit suffered a little but I will definitely make up for it next year. Still, after an "HVD" call from my hubby, I felt so fuzzy and lovey that I was moved to make another batch of cookies... until I remembered we're out of flour. In the afternoon I got an email from Frank, and attached was a little animation he made for me and the kids. He arrived home early with flowers and chocolate, then cooked a really yummy dinner. It was the best Valentine's Day, seriously. Nico's Grandmom sent him a card, which he insisted on holding and got so excited that he ripped it (sorry Mom but it was so cute when he did it) and waved it around in the air. My sister Kathy also sent us a card, which was more of a carrier for some money she was sending from a job, but still it was cute and a nice surprise.

On the topic of surprises, remember how I've been getting kicked in the bladder a lot? Well that is the reason I've been shy about going out of the house this week. The baby is kicking me so hard during the day that I either have to run to the bathroom for fear of peeing myself, or lean on something and stand in whatever position will alleviate the pain. If Nico was a neighbor knocking to borrow some sugar, then Olivia is the whaling fist of a police officer right before she kicks in the door. The other reason I'm hanging at home is because of Braxton-Hicks contractions. Nothing to be alarmed about, but I just feel better not running around town until I get used to them. Tomorrow we have the growth check ultrasound and I'm really excited about it. Mom's meeting us there to watch Nico, and he's hoping there will be Jell-O. Well, time to finish up some of my last real design work before I take my maternity leave. Before that, though, some tea and a snack. Happy Valentine's!

Blah-ish

That's just how I feel today. Maybe it's because of the waaether, I don't know. Oh you'rll notice there will be a lot of typing werrors in this post. Not only is mny eyesight toatally messed up lately, I have also becom e the world's sloppiest typer. Iv'e been speneiding so much time going back and correccting all the wordsin my posts and emails and instant messages, it's just pathetic. So here's what thing slook like right when they come out with no editing. I don't know whether to blane the bad coordination or the lack of focus. Whadda ya think? Maybe I'm just a slob now and I should get used to it. That's exactlyl how I feel today anyway.

It would lmake me feel better to go outsidfe and run, or whack a tree with a baseball bat. Or just scream. Instead I've been dowrning my mad mood in chocolate chip sookies and Fruit Loops. I have no drive to do anything. I could just sit here the rest of the night in the dark and feel better than if I tried to cheer myself up. Shitty mood.

Yum

My new favorite meal to make and eat... homemade pasta sauce with meat-a-balls. And pasta. And salad. Although due to my lack of croutons, last night's salad was just ok.

We saw an episode of "Throwdown with Bobby Flay", or Booby Flay as we like to call him, where this guy baked his famous meatballs. I tried this last night and now highly recommend it. Spectacular. And so much easier than frying. Just pop them on a cookie sheet and stick it in the oven. Ta-dah!

Meat-a-balls

Today I'm feeling A) ambitious, and B) sleepy. I had a crying child on my hands this morning. Everything made him cry. Everything. All morning. We made it to the supermarket somehow, and even though all I want to do is lie down, I'm going to make some pasta sauce and meatballs. But I like to call them meat-a-balls.

I'm looking forward to spring like you wouldn't believe, but I always miss one thing about the cold weather... leaving groceries in the car. In this weather there's no rush to get everything upstairs and into the fridge. Once it gets warm out, you just can't get away with leaving yogurt in the trunk for two hours. Alright, I'm off to do my cooking. I swear there will be meals around here from now on. As much as I would rather sleep, I think it's time to suck it up and become a meal maker on a regular basis, if only for the ease of having leftovers. Wish me luck.

I have a hot date on April 17th

As you know, one thing I have been looking forward to is scheduling my c-section. This week I talked to the surgical scheduler at my OB's office and she gave me the list of days/doctors/times for my 39th week. My original plan was to try to get the doctor who did my first delivery, but my 39th week starts on a Thursday and Dr. Mackey is only in surgery on Wednesdays. The other part of the plan was to schedule on the first day I can go in. Luckily my next favorite doctor is available on that particular morning, so as it stands we've got Dr. Articolo at 8:45am on April 17th.

So I've got my big date set. The plan is planned, and all Olivia has to do is follow along. hahaha. Who knows? It looked like Nico was going to make it to week 40 if not for my being sent to the hospital early. On Thursday this coming week I have an ultrasound to check Livi's growth. Kinda cool. Nico followed the general idea that in the last two months you can expect the baby to gain about half an ounce a day. They put him at 6 lbs. 2 oz. at 7 months, so his 8 lb. 4 oz. birth weight was right on target. And honestly if this baby is that big, I won't feel the least bit bad about not trying to fit another 8+ pounder through my va-jay-jay. No thank you. That just brings to mind Nico's birth video, where one OR nurse looks at my doctor and says, "That baby never would have come out!" and my doctor looks up, shakes her head, and goes back to whatever bloody goo she was dealing with.

So. New dilemma. What should I say when people ask my due date? After weighing the options I think I'm going to stick with telling people it's the 24th. I'm tired, for Pete's sake.

Bitchin' time

Ok so yesterday I was talking to Frank and he was telling me how they had until 2am this (Friday) morning to finish the revisions on the last episode they had to work on, and then he would go to work for a few hours later in the morning and then head home. He told me to think of what I wanted to do this weekend, and said he would help me a lot with the baby so I could rest. I've been having back pain, the baby weight has been shifting, and it's getting difficult to move around. So he calls this morning at 10:30 saying he didn't feel well (judging from his voice, this was true -- it was not his fake sick voice), was still at George's, and took a sick day from work. He was going to sleep a few hours, go back to the office and pick up his computer, then come home.

So he got back around 5:30 as Nico and I were finishing dinner. We all ate together, then Frank showered and I got Nico cleaned up from his rice fiesta and vacuumed the floor. Then we all hung out for a while, read a little Dr. Seuss, and turned on the tv. Frank was supposed to be watching the baby while I cleaned the kitchen, but instead he fell asleep. Now I know he is the one who goes out and busts his ass working so that I can be home with Nico, I just get angry when I'm promised a weekend of help and I look up from the dishes to see the baby standing on top of his bulldozer while my helper takes a nap on the living room floor.

Annoyed, I shouted Frank's name to wake him up, and he went over and helped the baby. Then he laid back down on the floor and went back to sleep. I finished the dishes, then did the rest of our night time routine... snack, pj's, brush teeth, pick up toys, diapey change. Somewhere around picking up toys, Frank started snoring and I woke him up and told him to go to the room. He did, and I was just irritated. Hopefully the rest of the weekend I'll get a little more help. I haven't really wanted it until now. With about two months to go, everything just seems to be taking a toll on my body. Every time Nico gets a little growth spurt (he's about to hit 25 lbs.), I can feel it in my arms and back for a few days until my muscles get a chance to catch up. I'm getting those stretchy pains in my belly, especially near the bottom. My hips are adjusting and my back is totally out of line. It all seems to be happening in the same week so I'm sore from my shoulders to my knees, and all I want to do is take a hot shower and stretch out on the sofa.

*** deep breath in ***

The weird thing is, as much as I'd like more help, I still like doing all the things I do. I like taking care of the baby, I like getting ready to bring another one home, and I like keeping things semi-orderly around the house. Cooking, though... still don't like it. But everything else is fine. When I start to think I have it so tough, that nobody understands me, and that I'm so out of step with the rest of the planet, I just stop and take a deep breath and remind myself that I've got a fantastically full life and I wouldn't trade any of it for the world. What I'm doing with my life right now is just me doing my thing. I don't have to worry what anyone else thinks, and I can do things as I please without having to ask anyone's permission. I try not to stress over the little things any more, I just do what I can in a day and everything else will just have to wait. I'm thankful to have this crazy little life, and if I never have a mansion and a fistful of diamonds then I won't be any less satisfied. Aaah... time for "The Soup" and a snack, then that nice hot shower and back out to the sofa to stretch, watch more tv, and think about how much I really do like my silly little life.

Everyone look at The Prince

http://kaesmom.blogspot.com

One of these days I'm going to look and see how to get photos and slideshows on my own blog.

I've been struck

Like a bolt out of the blue, I've been struck. For the second time, I'm carrying a child who's a bladder kicker. I was just standing by the book case sorting through today's mail, when BLAMMO! it felt like lightning hit my bladder. What is it with these kids? Must be soccer in the genes or something, because these kids loooove to kick me right where it counts from the inside.

I've heard of getting kicked other places, mostly the ribs. Never happened to me, maybe because I carry low. The closest I get to that is a little shortness of breath from the overall expansion. Last night Frank and I were talking about buying me all new clothes after the baby is born. I said all I want is to have a regular body again, and to get the kids moving along and keep going with life, but I'm a little scared about having a flabby belly. Frank said just relax and don't worry, do exercises and eat right, and if nothing else works we'll just call Dr. Rey.

For what it's worth

One little tidbit of information buzzing around lately has been on my mind tonight. It's the estimated yearly salary of what a stay-at-home mom (or dad) would earn for their work if some magical force turned it into a paying job. Something in the neighborhood of $137,000, if I remember correctly. I'm assuming that includes things like round-the-clock child care, housekeeping, and everything involved with turning babies into well-adjusted adults.

The main thing I'm working on this week, as you know, is prepping the taxes for our accountant. I've been going through bags of receipts, sorting out what we can itemize, making piles, gathering all the 1099s, 1098s, W-2s, and the you know whos. Day care, health insurance, commuting expenses, art supplies, office furniture, prescriptions... I feel like Ewan McGregor at the end of "Trainspotting" when he spouts off that list of things he's going to do to be just like you.

While I've been sorting and stacking and labeling, it has occurred to me several times that I could attempt to do the taxes myself. But when I think about doing them, I just don't see myself getting very far. For one thing, I dislike math and numbers. They throw me into a meltdown. And while I don't mind all the organizing, I can't stand keeping track of what goes where when it comes to tax rules. We also have to add NY and PA state returns into the mix. I'd love to think I could just suck it up and do them, but no. I could look at it one way and say that we're on a budget, and it doesn't make sense for me to pay someone to do something I could do myself. But in reality, that $150 is going to go a long way. It'll save me the frustration, the time, the tears, and the inevitable month of procrastination.

It's my job to set the household budget, and Frank's job to ignore it. But when tax time rolls around and he smiles and reminds me Jeff's fee is money well spent, I have to agree. It goes back to the home economics of it all. Sometimes X amount of money is just plain worth it.

Mrs. Clean

Important note: As of last night, showers have taken their new place at the top of my list of "Things to Do at Least Every Other Day". Other items on said list are as follows: stand in the kitchen eating peanut butter sundae ice cream out of the carton; drink a can of soda; take clean dishes out of the dishwasher, refill with dirty dishes, and run again; pull baby around the house on his bulldozer; eat avocado. Thank you.

Sucking the air out

Have I ever mentioned how much I love Space Bags? They are so much fun. It's almost a game to pack stuff away. I love to put a bunch of clothes in a big bag and then put the vacuum hose on the valve and *wwwwwssssssshhhhhhhhhh* suck out the air and then act like I'm on the commercial and make a surprised face when I zip the bag open again. I don't know what takes me longer, filling up the bags or playing with them until I've had my fill and can finally set them aside to go into the attic.

One of the piles I Space Bagged today was baby boy clothes, from newborn up to whatever 12 month stuff he has outgrown. It was bittersweet. The teeny weeny blue striped socks that fit his little feet once... they seemed so tiny, like only a doll could wear them. I must have kept him busy today because he was so tired that I put him down for a short nap at 6:00. Poor kid wasn't going to make it until bed time.

So yes, Space Bags. When I ordered them I got a bunch more than I expected, and I gave some to my mom because I thought they were so cool that she just had to try them. I guess that's my version of sharing a recipe. I wish there were a similar way to pack up all the little knick knacks and piles of paper hanging around. Doing the tax stuff is forcing me to go through a year's worth of old stuff, which is nice but just taking the time to do it... ugh! Alrighty, it's almost 7:00 so I better wake the babe. I'm so tempted to let him sleep and see if he'll make it through the night. Hmm...

Flexibility

Yesterday I planned out what I was going to do today. Wake up, breakfast, grocery list, food shopping, clean old food out of fridge, get tax stuff together, and prep bills to go out for the week. I thought it would be nice to let Frank stay home and sleep since he's been working so much. But he woke up shortly after Nico and I got up, and he wanted to take us out to the Diamond Diner (which used to be in Cherry Hill but moved near us on Route 38) and then go food shopping together. What??? Really? I offered him the "get out of errands free" card and he didn't take it. Cool. I changed my plans with no problem.

Usually I get irritated when I have a change in plans. I like a good plan. I like a plan even if it's crappy, really. I'm trying to get things done around the house and it really helps if I have some idea of the order in which I should be able to get the maximum amount of work done. I also usually do something that's pretty counter-productive, which is to refuse help. Frank offers to help and I say no because I like to have things done my own way, then I complain about having to do everything myself. It's so stupid, and I have really been trying to relax a lot on that lately. Today Frank helped with the baby, changed diapers, cleaned up a pile of clothes, put away groceries, cooked, loaded the dishwasher, and took out about a month's worth of recycling. Oh and he also went into the attic to get my SpaceBags and a big bag of papers that has stuff I need to send our tax guy. It was wonderful! It was so not the day I had planned, but we all had a great time going out to breakfast and shopping together, and just getting things accomplished at home. I'm almost finished sorting out the receipts, and I even got a few things done that weren't on my original list.

After dinner I got really emotional. Here's what set me off -- I couldn't get comfortable sitting down at the dining room table. Here's what pushed me over the edge and made me start crying -- I couldn't get Nico to let me brush his teeth. So I gave up, gave him some water and a hug and a kiss and Frank took him off my hands for a minute. I went to the living room and started boo-hooing all over the place. By no means is it the end of the world, but honestly I felt like a failure. A tooth brush failure. So I got it all out of my system, sat on the sofa for a few minutes, wiped down the kitchen floor and started to get back to the tax papers. Right now I'm going to have a snack and tie up today's loose ends. At least as many as I can tie up before I'm really ready to go to sleep. Even if I don't completely finish everything, at least I feel like I accomplished a lot and found a balance between following my plan and being flexible.

Friday is the new Saturday

This week, I thought it was Friday every day. Today, I thought it was Saturday. It always makes me wonder how I even know what I'm supposed to be doing on any given day anymore. Even though I use iCal religiously to keep track of things that need doing, I always have to think a minute before I'm sure of the day. And two minutes to know the date. After the first of the month I lose track and need to count up or down from the last big event I can recall. This involves a mental picture of iCal, and hopping from square to square with my mind's eye, counting day by day. Sometimes I lose my place and have to start over.

Some Fridays I reminisce about the single life. Single meaning pre-kids, not necessarily pre-marriage since we didn't exactly follow the whole "first comes love, then comes marriage" plan. Friday was my favorite. Having the whole weekend ahead was such a great feeling. We'd do whatever was craziest on Friday night. Then sleep late on Saturday, do something semi-crazy on Saturday night, go to brunch at Robin's Nest on Sunday and spend the rest of the day doing whatever. I'd meditate, read psychology books, break out my yoga mat and do five minutes of self-invented stretches in the middle of the living room. Is that ridiculous, to put down a mat on carpet? Who knows. But it made it seem more official. Like yes, I am officially doing yoga. See my mat?

There's no way to know how I'd feel about that life if things didn't happen the way they did. I wonder if we'd have moved, if I'd still be working at the same place, or if I'd still have that hot and cold "baby fever". I'm often guilty of wasting time thinking about the what ifs and replaying situations over and over in my mind. I hate that I do that. I feel like other people think so much more clearly, and I just grind my brain thinking one thought over and over until it's replaced by another useless worry. Sometimes it's not even a thought. It could be repeating two lines of a song over and over. Like the other day I kept singing this one line from a "Wonder Pets" episode. This little worm was turning into a butterfly and the Wonder Pets were discussing, then singing about, metamorphosis. For hours I was stuck singing, "A pupae? Supa dupa!" The only thinking involved in that one was wondering how long I'd be repeating the same thing in that silly Ming Ming voice. But I can't call it a total waste, because I was smiling every time I sang it.