Ode to my Hub

Since today is Father's Day, I want to blog about my husband & his role as the father figure in our household.

If you are familiar with my previous posts, you'll know that my husband and I do not share any biological children at this time. I'm still not sure if we'll try to add another one to our household. We go back & forth about whether or not we want another child...now that we know what's involved in being a parent.

My husband and I have been through a lot together. We met in Arizona (where I am from) while he was going to school finishing his 2nd college degree. I was quite pregnant with my son - about 7 months. I had been recently ditched by my son's father & was *so* not looking for another guy in my life. I was frantically trying to save up money to get prepared for my son's impending arrival. I was scrambling to deal with my situation and was not looking to complicate things further with a relationship.

He saw what I was doing to try to prepare myself to be a mother & took me aside one day to tell me how amazing he thought it was that I was working so hard, all on my own, to be a mother. At that moment, I realized how alone I felt in the whole process, but was really touched that *someone* was impressed by my effort. My family was on the other side of the country, & my 1 close girlfriend had a lot of personal stuff going on & was not able to be there for me the way she would've liked to have been.

After a few conversations, he told me a little about his story. His ex had cheated on him several times (that he knew of). He had been working 2 jobs while going to school full time because she didn't want to work because she was pregnant. I had been working 2 jobs for the majority of my pregnancy, so I had very little sympathy for her. There was no reason she couldn't work, she just didn't want to. She complained that he was never there. One day he came home early without calling first & caught her with his friend. This was the last straw & he sent her back home to her mother and then endured months of emotional warfare. She continued to tell him what a horrible man and father he was for not abandoning school & coming back east to "be a father." He chose to stay and finish his degree. He was more than half way there & if he left, his classes would not transfer (specialty technical school) and he would still be liable for the loans. He struggled with the decision, but felt it would be best for his daughter to finish his education so he could provide a better life for her than being a server for the rest of his life.

Fast forward a year. I agreed to have lunch with him so he could give me some books on parenting. I had made it explicitly clear before I agreed and during our lunch that I was NOT available for dating & was NOT looking for a relationship. We spent the entire day talking. I had to work my 2nd job that night & he came up to visit me on my break. After I was done, we sat in his car and talked for another 3 or 4 hours. After another week or 2 of pretty much constant emailing and conversation, we were dating. So much for my explicit edict that I was not available. :|

He was there for the birth of my son, which was very meaningful for both of us. I expected to be alone and he had been deprived of being there when his daughter was born (his ex was trying to hide from him - he only found out that his daughter had been born because her grandmother called him). When my son was 6 months old, we decided to move in together. When my son was about a year (& some change) old and after several lengthy discussions, we agreed to let my son call him "daddy." He has been the only dad my son has ever known.

We have been through many ups and downs, big fights, a cross-country move, custody battles, and growing as parents and mates. It took over 4 years before I would agree to marry him, but I finally did. We have both worked very hard & grown so much together. I can't even describe how amazing it is to have a partner like him to help me face the challenges, not only of parenthood, but of life as well. I could not ask for a better man to be a daddy to my son.

I love my husband (even during those times when I want to choke him) and am proud to be his wife.

Back in the Budget

Ok, so my son has started preschool this past week. After a little too much complaining from the evil babysitter (who is sorta family. Yippee.), we decided it would be best for my son to be in a less bitchy negative environment. My stepdaughter still has to go for 2 or 3 days a week until she starts kindergarten, which seems unfair but part of the reason we decided to put my son in preschool is because of the ridiculous disparity in treatment between the two kids. If she chooses to treat my stepdaughter as if her poo bears the delightful fragrance of roses., that is fine. But she will not do so while concurrently treating my son as if he is a piece of the offensively scented excrement. The dichotomous bias is not healthy for either to be exposed to.

All of these big words & then I end a sentence in a preposition. I'm blatantly ignoring the sentences beginning with conjunctions. The spelling/grammar snob in me is developing a twitch. Sigh

So, since my stepdaughter will be gone a lot over the summer (due to the custody arrangement), plus she is treated far better, plus she is starting school in 2 months, she periodically remains with the evil babysitter.

Nonetheless, preschool is expensive. Sending my son to preschool has been wonderful for him, but a little painful for us. We're hoping that the painful budget crunch will only be temporary, but we have to plan for the worst so we don't get ourselves in trouble.

That being said, there are a few things that I am fantasizing about adding or returning to the budget if it does expand.

Bikini waxing. This was originally an experiment for my honeymoon. I'd heard good things & figured if I could "man" out the pain, it would be a nice touch for the drunken antics that would be our honeymoon. I have now been to the other side & shaving just doesn't work for me anymore. Razor burn. Itching. Cactus cooch. These are all bad things. My husband didn't fight me on my request to add this to the budget. Apparently, it made an impression on our honeymoon. I'm not sure if I'm happy about this or not, since the budget currently precludes the waxing.

A Swedish massage. I got one as my wedding treat to myself. It was thirty minutes of relaxing heaven. I did this on my lunch break & my coworkers mocked my relaxation upon my return. It was inexpensive, but is not a necessity now, dammit.

A haircut at a real salon. I will not brave the untried cheapies again. I have had my hair butchered one too many times...& I am very low-maintenance when it comes to hair. I just don't want it to suck & piss me off. That is all.

Meat. My husband and I are very into meat. Meat is expensive. I have a small stockpile in the freezer, but it is depleting quickly. It is grilling season & I can actually grill a steak without turning it into shoe leather. Don't ask about that time I tried to make steak in the oven. We do not speak of this.

Organic milk. Yes, I would like to try to eliminate all those nasty chemicals, hormones, and drugs from my kids' diets. But really, I like the organic because it tastes better. At $6 a gallon though, not always in the budget. Same goes for those $5 organic eggs. I want to eat real food, really I do, but real food is expensive, dammit. I exist on Taco Bell food product.

Furniture. We bought our 1st house in August (in which a druggie apparently shot himself - God love neighbors for sharing that unsolicited bit of history) and we have maybe 2 pieces of real furniture. They do not match, so it doesn't look like it was real furniture on purpose, but they do count as furniture items. Regardless, I have piles of towels, bedding, etc. that desperately need an armoire or cedar chest. I have full-on furniture lust. I'd like to feel (and look) like a home-owning grown up as opposed to an apartment-dwelling kid. We will not bring our craptacular mattress that hates my hips and back into the conversation.

A bathroom faucet fixture. Our upstairs bathroom has a crappy pull-on faucet that is far too sticky for our kids to use. They can usually pull it on, but have a very tough time pushing it off. My husband took a cold shower the other week because my stepdaughter had left the faucet on...at least long enough to drain the hot water heater. Did I mention we have well water? We need a better faucet.

So, for the betterment of my son, we've put some things on the back burner. Hopefully, things will turn around a bit soon. I'm tired of being prickly.

The Popular Girls

I spent most of my life as a young girl (up through early 20s, actually) profoundly wishing to be a popular girl. I'm not really sure why, either. Perhaps it was because the popular girls were always pretty, or because the boys liked them, or maybe because people paid attention to them & that made them important. The popular girls always had the best clothes, the tallest bangs (this was the 80s), and seemed so with it & together.

I was the completely invisible shy girl who couldn't spend the night on Saturday because I had to go to church all day Sunday. I had homemade clothes and couldn't figure out how to roll my jeans tightly or get my bangs to stand up like that.

When I got to high school, I was still pretty shy, but not as bad as when I was little. I was a good looking girl (I realize that now, anyway), but I had "friends" (read: girls that I hung out with) that were generally accepted as HOT. Even now, in hindsight, I don't really understand why they were HOT & I could not be differentiated from the background. Confidence perhaps. Really, most of them were, well, bitches. They were not nice girls. Very mean and judgmental, even within our clique. A lot of two-faced back-stabbing. The joy I had felt at being accepted was quickly diminished by how catty & nasty these girls really were.

Because I was the "nice" one, guys would always befriend me because they wanted to get with my "friends." When I brought the guy around (never mind that I usually had a mad crush on said guy), they looked down their noses at him & treated me like a bad dog that had brought in something nasty. But, the guys were often persistent (these were teenage guys looking to get laid...they were desperately, sometimes pathetically persistent), & occasionally one of the princesses would cave & he would be accepted.

When I called them (rather meekly) on their behavior, I was cast out. In the senior yearbook, some of them bought "ad" space (where parents post letters, friends post pictures, etc.) & included group pictures from our high school years...with me cut out. A couple of them have since refused my "friend" requests on Facebook. I'm amused at what some of them have become, after looking down their nose at me. I think it's funny that I was always chastised as being "inappropriate" but the girl who couldn't say "fuck" without giggling halfway through (seriously) was knocked up before she was out of high school. There's a lot of irony for me looking back over everything.

I find irony rather amusing.

Over the years, I still occasionally have that pang of wanting to be accepted by the "cool" people. As it has always been, most people like me, but I have very few friends. I get invited to things, but I'm just not into the social, party lifestyle. I don't have anything in common with most of the "popular" people I know and I'm not really into hanging out with people who don't share my values. It's too tiring, honestly.

I think what I have always envied is the perceived confidence the popular girls had. The fact that they never seemed phased by situations that made me embarrassed and uncomfortable. I wanted that confidence. I hate being embarrassed and I hate feeling stupid. Somehow, I got it in my head that these girls didn't feel that way. I've since learned better. That at some point, everyone feels like a dumbass. Everyone cries. Everyone has been humiliated. I just haven't been there to see it.

I like who I am, for the most part. I like that I have 2 or 3 friends that would move heaven and earth for me if I needed it...and I would do the same for them. I like it that way. And after being cast out? I know I don't need them. When life has taken a shit on me, I dig my ass out of the mess by myself. Maybe that's why so many of them have since said "Wow, you're such a strong woman!"

Poo links

My son, who is 4, has a huge fascination with Poo. Everything to him is somehow related to Poo. He has had major control issues with his Poo (11 days of stockpiling on one occasion...dealing with that one was fun...). Perhaps his Poo fascination is simply because he's a boy. Or perhaps it's something else.

When he was about 10 or 11 months old, we lived in a 2 bedroom apartment in Phoenix. My milk supply was not keeping up with his demand & we had begun supplementing my waning supply with formula. He took to the formula well & pretty much refused to nurse a few weeks after we introduced it.

About this same time, he was getting to be pretty mobile & curious. He would now pull himself up to look at things & get into stuff so I had recently gone through and baby "proofed" the living room, which was where his crib was. His crib had an attached changing table/set of drawers/shelves attached to one side & he was quite interested in the contents of the shelves that are on the backside of the drawers.

One afternoon, I set him down & went into the kitchen to make him a bottle of formula. This was a simple task that should only take a minute or two. Our kitchen overlooked the living room, so he was fully within view. As I was mixing the formula & looked up to see him sitting next to the shelves on his crib playing with some little dark things. My thought is "Crap! I must have missed those when I cleaned off the shelves!"

I asked him "what have you got there?" As soon as I said something, the dog looked terrified and bolted from the room.

My next thought is "WTF is wrong with the dog...?" Then the light bulb slowly flickers on and I realize what my son is merrily playing with.

"Shit!" And I rush over to remove the offending pellets from his grasp.

And what do 10-month-olds do with interesting things they find & pick up? Oh, yes. As I reach my darling little boy, he looks up and grins a big brown grin. He has a gullet full of chihuahua poo.

Yes.

What do you do when your kid has a mouth full of dog shit? Will this make him sick? How do I get it out? He's 10 months old, he doesn't know how Listerine works just yet.

So, here I am freaking out about the poo in his gullet and how to remove the poo from said gullet. I hold him over the sink & try to scoop the poo out with my finger & rinse his mouth out as best as I can. I then call my dad in a panic to ask if I need to take him to the hospital or what.

Admirably, my dad managed to keep his laughter to a minimum (at least until I was off the phone...or else he was very adept with his mute button) and assured me that my boy would likely be just fine, but to keep an eye on him, just in case.

It was all very traumatizing. For me. My son thought the whole thing was really amusing & didn't understand why mommy was getting all stressed out.

Now, I'm just bummed that I didn't get a picture. It would've made the story much more colorful when I tell his future girlfriends. Ah, well.

This post is part of the Word Up, Yo! weekly word meme at Mommy of a Monster Check it out!

To baby or not to baby...

OMG - it has been over a week since I have posted. Perhaps that is why, despite the good night's sleep, I have still been a little grumpy. Lack of something this week, anyway. hehe

...moving on...

My hub and I have been together nearly 5 years now. He has a daughter (who is 5 1/2 - his ex cheated, again, while she was pregnant & he kicked her out) and I have a son (4 1/2 - his father bailed on us pretty much as soon as I told him I was pregnant). We now have custody of his daughter (her mom is out of her damn tree psychotically self absorbed mentally ill)so we effectively have 2, nearly school-aged children.

Now, we are finally married after 4 1/2 years (not in a hurry - getting divorced is a pain. in. the. ass. so we wanted to be sure we were really sure that we were surely sure). After being with someone for that long & not have any kids biologically between you, people start asking when you're going to have another one.

At work, at least 4 people (out of 40 - that's 10% people) are currently pregnant. Since I've been there - almost 3 years - at least 6 babies have already been born. Suffice it to say, I no longer drink the water there.

Add to that my newfound Twitter & Bloggy addictions interests that have linked me up to many new mommies, and my little nostalgic uterus is going berzerk.

Now, here's the thing, I sleep through the night. As soon as my son can sleep thru the night without peeing, we're a pullup-free zone. No exorbitantly expensive infant day care. We've got one starting school and another starting preschool - we're nearly done paying for child care...sorta. And the vision of having 3 to manage is intimidating at best. I am an only child, so this whole sibling thing with the 2 of them is alien to me. I'm not sure what I'd do with 3.

On the other hand, I'm 32. My biological clock is tick tick TICKing pretty loudly. Plus, I love my husband very much & there is a part of me that wants to have a child with him to tie our family together. Then, everyone would have a common link. Plus, we would each have biological children with a mate that sticks around for the actual rearing process.

Honestly, I think if money were not an object, I would be on board to have another. There would be some logistical problems of where we would put the 3rd child, being that each existing child has a bedroom of their own & it would be tough to have one share a room with a child 5 or 6 years their junior. Additionally, my boring mom-boat sedan will only hold 2 car seats. A third would mean a (shudder) minivan that we don't really have the money for...although, I suppose my outspoken disdain for SUVs & Minivans would karmically require me to be in need of one at some point. Like I said before, I really need to start being vocally judgmental of happy, healthy, rich people with brilliant, well-behaved children....

I dunno, I can't answer all of the "how would we do it" questions so that's why I haven't broached the subject. Plus, what if I regret it after we're already committed? That's a whole can of worms I don't want to open. Soon, I'll be past the window in which I would be OK with having another child. Personally, I don't want to be 40 & having a baby. 35 is about my outside limit.

It's a huge commitment that I can't quite be sure I want to make, but I'm also not sure I want to walk away from that.

Perhaps I'm just nostalgic & glossing over all that crappy stuff that comes along with new babies & raising kids....I suppose if anyone really remembered what it was like (let's not even discuss labor & delivery), probably no one would have more than 1...

All the Me I can Handle

Do you ever look at yourself in the mirror & wonder how you got where you are? Are you like me in the sense that when you do look in the mirror you see many versions of you looking back? I don't mean this in the multiple personality disorder I-hear-voices sense. More like I see the different aspects of my personality that has evolved over the years - how I have been segmented & segregated to accommodate all these nifty roles I get to play.

I think my husband sees the most authentic me. I can swear in front of him. I take a certain degree of pleasure in being able to drop a few F bombs in casual conversation after penning them up all day. I can still be the foul-mouthed, pierced, tattooed metal bitch that I am on the inside in front of him. Add a few drinks to that equation and...well...nevermind.

My kids get the PG version of me. I will never pretend to be something I'm not for them (ok, other than the hastily swabbed & sloppily sterilized vocabulary). They see me as I am, with all my struggles and flaws, because I want them to understand that I am human and that it does take work to be who you want to be and where you want to be. Besides, I want for them to love me for the real me & not some character version of a "perfect" mom.

Most everyone else, they don't see me much. I might let slip that story about when I dyed my hair blue...or the debacle of when I dyed it black...& I get big, wide eyes looking back at me. I chuckle at someone's 4:20 joke & again, get the big, wide eyes-o-disbelief. In a way, it's kind of fun playing the role of tasteful, conservative grown up (my job sort of demands this...I work in a conservative field) & knowing what I know about the real me. But, sometimes, I miss being the real me. I miss being able to dress & dye the way I want to. I have to make the choice between keeping that me on the inside and making money...or letting me out & vastly limiting my options.

But thankfully, I can still see me. Sometimes I still sneak out to the outside...but you have to look closely, or you might miss it...

Confessions of a Kid Hater

I can honestly say that I never pictured myself as a parent. I mean, not for real. There was always the traditional expectation that I would grow up, get married, have kids, & (naturally) stay at home with them like moms are supposed to do with their kids. Right? (sanctimonious tirade) I always swore up & down that I just wouldn't have kids if I couldn't stay home with them. I mean, what kind of mother would dump off their kids in daycare anyway? (/sanctimonious tirade)

I discovered as I grew into my teen years & early 20s. I didn't really like kids. They're noisy, poorly behaved, & just generally obnoxious. And that kid in the restaurant who's running around & screaming? Why is no one smacking that kid?

Fast forward to 2005. I'm now 27, a few months out of a relationship with a crazy psycho stalker & have now learned a lot about restraining orders. About 3 weeks after a little too much tequila during Cinco de Mayo I discovered that I was expecting. I knew this before the pregnancy test did. The father was pushing me in a direction I wasn't comfortable with, & when I made it clear that I wasn't going down that road, he promptly left the state.

I spent 9 months worrying if I would even be a good parent. I had done the practical things I needed to do to prepare, even going so far as to get a 2nd job so I could afford the baby stuff I needed. However, I never did feel that amazing sense of bonding during pregnancy that I thought was just magically supposed to happen. After my son was born in 2006, I had an amazing sense of "OMG, what the hell do I do with him?"

I have since learned a few things.

First, not all obnoxious kid behavior is a result of stupid, apathetic, or otherwise bad parents. Kids, no matter how wonderful they are normally, at times are just straight up obnoxious little critters.

Second, If you smack a kid, you pretty much have just taught the kid to smack you back when you do something they don't like. My babysitter discovered this after she decided to give my son a "tap tap" for every little behavior she didn't like (as explained to me, this was supposed to be a gentle tap on the hand for extreme misbehavior). She calls me upset that my son had tried to hit her when he was mad at her. She said she gave him a tap tap for it & he did it again. She tells me "he just doesn't learn!" I managed to control my laughter...but wasn't quite able to control the "No, actually, I think he did learn" that came out of my mouth. She didn't get it. Personally, I think it serves her right for smacking his hand over inconsequential things (I didn't know she was doing this until he started hitting her back & she got a little less careful about hiding how often she tap tapped him...he is now starting preschool in a week)

Third, I have learned that whenever I really get rolling on a sanctimonious tirade, I'm so karmically asking to be beset with just those circumstances. I am slowly learning how to keep my damn mouth shut...or at least start talking mad crap about rich, happy, healthy people with extremely intelligent & well-behaved children.

Fourth, most moms who put their kids in daycare don't want to. If they want to actually feed said kid (and maybe even themselves), working is often necessary.

It didn't take long for me to develop a love for my son that I have never experienced before. And frankly, it continues to scare the crap out of me. I still don't know what the hell I'm doing, but I have become a lot more sympathetic to kids who are just genuinely tired (I mean, really, why is your 2 year old at Walmart at 10 pm?) and fussy. Kids don't behave the way I think they should...& for the most part, I'm ok with that...except for the running around in the restaurant part. Your ass is going to sit & wait in the car (with me, dammit) while the civilized people finish their dinner!

...besides, that "civilized" facade is getting difficult to maintain....