feeling surrounded

and its not even about the baby! baby, i can deal with. but the weirdness of my brother and my general family's lack of communication skills leading up to us standing in the front yard and my two old brothers collectively telling my husband that no he was NOT invited to dinner with them, my father, and his own wife. That, that is too much on a Thursday evening. And then me crying and going home, to the house I share with said weird brother.
So I'm thinking making it till Christmas was optomistic indeed. And that I need to get the !&*$ out of town.

keeping up appearances

Wall Street Journal's blog for working parents, the Juggle, had a post today regarding the importance of appearance at work; the commenters have some really high standards. Apparently, if I every want to be anything in life I better be getting my eyebrows waxed, be wearing designer suits, and getting every other week-mani/pedis. Most disturbing of all, the commenters probably would disapprove of the GIANT POOP STAIN ON MY KHAKIS I've been trying to cover all day by pulling my sweater down. So judgemental...

looking rough, looking tough

B. had a very happy weekend- between the naps, his live-in cousins, and (most importantly) their corgi, he spends a good portion of the day with a shit-eating grin or just cracking up. But you wouldn't think so to look at him- he's got two bug bites on his head and one right under his eye, which, eh, is not a particularly healthy look. It is more like- stay away from my kid or you'll get infected. Sigh.
Judging from the many funny-looking people in my family (myself included) B's best-looking days may be behind him. Guess, like us, he'll just have to try and be sarcastic instead.

Feeling paranoid around the office. Or is it paranoia if its real?

She looks at me warily
but doesn't she always look wary?
Tells me he is METICULOUS
and there it is, the rest of the sentence unsaid:
And you are not.
Don't screw up
You lazy slacker.
So I think bitch
but is that her unsaid sentence or mine?

outside the fluorescence

There is a warm rainy morning that smells great, the boy just watching from underneath the umbrella.
There is E., my five year old niece, playing peek and boo and making B. belly laugh so so hard.
There is the quiet of an unexpected night alone where we sit at our table eating spaghetti and remembering how much we like each other.

the perfect handoff

I brought him down, got him sleepy, and put him in the crib for his afternoon nap. Meaning he is not doing anything cute right now except sleeping, and I know all about that. But it's rainy out -- and who doesn't want to keep a baby in their lap all day when it's rainy?

Tired with Superpowers

I have been feeling a new, more powerful kind of tired this week, only achievable after multiple weeks of sleep deprivation. When I wake up in the morning I must use my best litigation skills to convince myself that dying is not preferable to getting up. This tired makes me think crazy, destructive thoughts, always a winner. The best feature, however, is that it makes me forget to self-censor, so yesterday at the ballgame after my husband chided me for spending twenty five of our hard-earned dollars on a used highchair I stared out to space and prepared to think nasty thoughts but instead found myself saying out loud
What the fuck is wrong with you?
As I was feeling only temporary annoyance, not some WWIII H-bomb (or F-bomb) anger, this was a little inappropriate. But I was so tired, I didn't even try and backpedel, it just seemed too many words to explain.
And, since I was holding B. at the time, it was also kind of Britney-esque. In a bad, bad way. (Well, at this point, there's probably not a good way, but just to be clear).
I now have a puddle of breastmilk spilled onto my pants, overflow from the pump. I didn't even notice. Oh, tired, you do have superpowers.

Can you tell I'm pissed?

i went downstairs to deliver some milk and there are the two very lovely, very caring childcare ladies pushing B.'s crib back and forth as he WAILS. Wails. Unless he is hungry, B. does not wail (the only exception being after 3 hours in a carseat, usually on I-95). So if he is crying, he is probably hungry. So I ask if he is hungry and they just look like I am an idiot because he did only eat an hour before. But this is B. we're talking about- of course he's hungry after an hour! He's hungry all the time! And they have been hanging out with him for three months now! They should know this! It is not rocket science! Plus, I am always saying, you know, that baby of mine? He is hungry all the time! I, too, want my boy to sleep more during the day. And I understand that to be a childcare lady you have to learn to ignore the wailing sometimes. But I am so pissed that they couldn't see this was not his normal behavior and that he was hungry- the most basic cue there is.

So what did I do? After I got them a bottle and told them he was hungry? Apologetically said that I understood that he had to cry some to start napping on a regular schedule. Even though that was not the point at all. Why? Well, perhaps because I am a pussy.

We have a houseguest in from the Cinncy suburbs. He has a two year old so we were comparing daycare prices. Ours costs THREE TIMES what their (apparently excellent) daycare costs- even when little Alex was an infant. So perhaps this is not a great morning for me to reflect upon my childcare arrangement.

a reason to have kids

Well, finally giving birth has done me some good. I had my Scary Security Clearance Interview yesterday, where I was asked all sorts of insane questions ("but WHY were you sad in 2003?" And, more often, "What was the name of the temporary company you worked for in 1999 for a month? Who was your supervisor?"). I was trying to convince some 24 year old guy that I was a Very Good Person despite my unwillingness to characterize my pot smoking as "experimental" (um, I would tell you that, if I could keep a straight face) and my refusal to say yes to whether I now believed drugs were BAD (an expert hedge, if I do say so myself), so well there was some shameless exploitation of B.

• Hi! welcome to my office WITH MY MANY PROMINENT PICTURES OF MY BABY!
• What was I doing in August 2006? Well, waiting to start my job and VOMITING BECAUSE I WAS PREGNANT. WITH MY BABY.
• Social life? Well I have THIS BABY...
• Alcohol? Well, I'm NURSING MY BABY...
• Ah, please excuse for a moment while I call downstairs to the nursery WHERE MY BABY IS.
• etc.

Do I feel ashamed? Nope. Instead, I think I should have laid it on a little thicker. Only two baby pictures? What was I thinking? Cute baby= clearance.

It's kind of funny though- the idea behind this is, well, in the past a person may have been irresponsible/insane/a bad person/ illegal activities doer but now that she has a BABY she must be GOOD. Which is kind of ridiculous, because everyone knows bad/irresponsible people have babies all the time. But as a society I think we really hope and wish that people who have babies are good, or else it's too scary to send them home with the babies.

The truth? I am pretty much good. But, Mr. Clearance Man, I was pretty much good before I had B., despite whatever I smoked. I just look the part now.

i am a pumping machine!

I know it's dumb, but I love looking at those little bottles. They make me feel quite proud. Go boobs go! No matter what else got done or didn't get done today, there is that.

Tightly wound up with the Boy

missing B.- as I seem to do most acutely every monday. I'm just getting used to every day with him and then- work?
this weekend was particularly intense, since my husband was out of town, and B. did not seem to have his usual tolerance for being ignored/staring at the mobile/jumping in the swing while his mother does four weeks of laundry. So it was holding B. in one hand/doing the laundry with the other. Standard stuff but a little overwhelming. And now -- things to highlight, notes to take, think, think, think -- it just feels really odd not to have him by my side.
We are now living with my brother and his wife; their 3 kids will soon descend. My brother was a stay at home dad/smartypants night law student for many years; he and my sister-in-law have raised really cool, smart kids that are pretty independent and fearless yet supersweet and like a good snuggle. I'm a little self-conscious about my parenting around him, he's very laid back about it and though I THINK I'm laid-back, it's made me realize that compared to him (at least by the time he was watching all three), I am holding on a little tight -- I jump at the slightest noise, always checking, don't let B. fuss much, etc. Classic first time parenting. Last night he suggested a nanny for all four of the kids, something that might make sense $wise and would give B. one-on-one attention during the school day (which, let's just say, is a little different from the daycare scene). So it may be an excellent option. But the thought of not taking B. into work with me or seeing him at lunch had me in tears (not shown, however- he is my older brother after all).
Tight or not, only fifty-four minutes till I see the boy! I have only have 5 hours per weekday to smother him!