October 31

Holy Shit. Tomorrow is November.

November is the month I don't have a job.

Wait, scratch that. I DO have a job. Just not a paycheck.

I have a job being a mom. I have a job searching for a job (which is a full-time job in itself, and if I say job one more time in this sentence job I get a cookie JOB. Yay. I win)

I go from being all non-chalant and things will work out and this too shall pass and life is an adventure to ohmygodinheaven, I have a baby and no insurance and no way to pay mortgage and we're in an economic crisis in this country and no one will ever hire me and even if they do and they hire my husband too how the hell will we afford daycare and mortgage all at the same time on two little measly incomes?

Yes, all of that.

I had a dream last night that made me tired. I don't remember all of it, but I specifically remember searching for a pair of shoes that I knew were here somewhere and I NEEDED but could not find. I remember crossing a street a lot. I remember being nervous.
So, I woke up nervous and tired and feeling like I already had a full day, how is it possibly time to wake up yet?

Not only is this the last day before November (holy shit holy shit holy shit), it is Halloween. I have the cutest little mouse waiting for me at home. She'll have whiskers and a tail and a cute little button black nose.

Not only is this the last day before November (holy shit holy shit holy shit) and not only is it Halloween, it is our good friend's birthday. So, we have a sitter, and we're all dressing up as Andy. I've got my fabulous scarf and polo shirt all ready to go.

November is coming, ready or not, but I've got the good life, yes I do.

Heavenly Sleep

Remember all the DRAMA! HALP! posts regarding my daughter's sleep patterns?

Houston, we've had problems, but we're ready for take-off anyway.

We're all sleeping. At least 8 hours. In a row. Usually, anyway. (i won't go into the gas-induced-scream-fest that was tuesday night. that just bums me out).

An earlier bedtime, one nap a day and a refusal to nurse at night have made us all better sleepers. I know things change and I'm not claiming victory yet, but actually waking up in the morning and having to PEE is a welcome feeling.

(because, you know, i wasn't awake three times during the night with my daughter, giving me an excuse to pee and then waking up, groggily, in the morning and making it through my second cup of coffee before realizing I haven't peed yet, good god.)

Speaking of coffee, must refill my cup. Afternoon hath arrived.

Six Days

A little less than a week.

How can that seem like just a blink, yet an entire eternity away?

Six days. It's like having a baby: the six days before the child is born take FOREVER. Seriously, time stops. Thinking about the possibility of having six. whole. days. more of being pregnant is just about as daunting as thinking you'll be pregnant until Christmas. Then, as soon as you have that newborn in your arms, she is six days old, then fifteen months with nary a second to catch your breath. Can those six days really be the same amount of physical time?

Six days. In six days, this election will finally be over (we hope, anyway. I'm personally praying for a non-repeat of 2000, thankyouverymuch). Time for unity. Time for healing. Time for change.

I just hope it is around my candidate. I don't want to be the gracious loser. I want to be the celebratory winner. I want AMERICA to be the winner.

I'm just so nervous. So, time is slowly ticking away, yet racing way too fast. November 4.

ps. I went to vote this morning, and there were lines down the street. Yikes. I'll try again this afternoon.

A Girl and a Dog

When do kids stop being infants and start being toddlers?  

Around the time they start getting their naughty streak, I'd guess.   Sofia is now all toddler.

Polar is a very tolerant dog.  He tolerates when she sits on him, he tolerates when she pulls his tail.  He tolerates her getting much more attention than he gets.  He tolerates his bathroom breaks being less urgent than her diaper changes and getting chastised when he takes food from her.  

Only Li'l Miss has picked up on that last one.  Oh, yes she has.

Sofia has been found out.  Today, she got a string cheese.  Marched off eating it as always.  She came to us fussing and pointing at Polar.  We sent him to his bed and gave her more cheese.  She went to the livingroom, and I followed.  I witnessed her go to Polar's bed, put the cheese in his mouth, then turn around and sob.

Little Stinker.

Done

And...it's done. I signed. As of November 3rd, I will no longer be employed.

I am amazed at how non-scared I feel. How I know this is the right decision.

Life is looking up, folks.

Except for my dog. Dude, he's got gas. Give an allergic dog fish oil and predisnone and see what happens. It doesn't sound, or smell, pretty.

Give me Sleep or Give me Death.

Since when do 1 year olds not sleep through the night?

Seriously, I thought this night-waking would stop at some point. So far, it seems I am doomed to years of not sleeping.

I finally decided to suck it up and no longer nurse Sofia at night. She demands it and screams for it and it is not the way I'd like to nurse, so I'm refusing. I always thought I'd be the "don't offer, don't refuse" kind of mom. Just another example of how your kid changes your plan, I guess. So, we cry at night instead. The crying length is getting shorter, so I'm trying to be heartened. I don't have it in me to just let her cry, so I hold her and cuddle her instead. One step at a time, right? We have a sippy of water in her crib in case she is thirsty and I'm trying to explain to her during the day as well that we don't nurse when she screams for it.

Yet, we're still waking twice a night. At least. This is not helping my plan to wake up early in the morning, work out and be out the door before 8:30. Sometimes I'm lucky to be out of bed by then.

Who knew that lack of sleep could be this important? I know I went with far less during college.

I also fell asleep behind the wheel once and tended to fall asleep during class, so I guess that isn't sayin' much.

Anyway, besides refusing to let her mama and papa get a full night's sleep in, my toddler is continuing to charm me. She's so funny. She likes animal crackers, and will take one in her chubby little hand, walk off with it, feed it to the dog, then come complaining to me that Polar ate her cookie. Stinker.
The child loves accessories. She walks around the house with a little purse around her neck, carrying her shoes. She's got a costume jewelery necklace that she loves. How am I going to afford her teenage years? I foresee a lot of babysitting in her future paying for handbags and earrings.

Job hunt still on. Trying not to let the fear consume me. Trying to move on. Sometimes is easier than others.

So, it is almost official. I told my boss that I am leaving. Papers still need signing, but for all purposes, it is done.

I'm terrified. What have I done? Left my family with no income? And I gambling my daughter's well being for my own selfish reasons? Will we make it through this?

I'm relieved. Living life means taking risks, and I want to live my life again, not just be in it. I want to live deliberately, do what I want, find who I am. I can't do that here. I'm showing my daughter that she deserves the right to find out what makes her go, to change when things are working, to be fully present in her life. I need to lead by example.

I'm scared, but optimistic. I've already signed up to volunteer on November 4th, getting out the vote. Never before have I been so certain in our need for President Obama. When you are faced with the prospect of no health insurance and no income, it would help to know that there is a government behind you who wants to help. Something there to catch your fall and help you get back up.

Now, I need to go dust off that interview suit and find the courage that I know I have somewhere around here.

Getting Up

Okay, I'm getting on my feet and standing up.
I've got my resume mostly done.
I have a few jobs I can apply for.
I have several contacts that I can network with, hopefully leading to a job.

I haven't been happy at this job for awhile, now. I wrote something months ago that I want to share here:
My heart hurts. It is never where it wants to be, where it should be. My heart is in a constant three-way tug-of-war with my brain and reality and it never seems to win. Too many shoulds and have tos must do nows to leave room for silly things like dreams, creating, loving. Naivety. How I wish it was reality. I wish I could just live my life, live it like I want to. There’s always a tether holding me to reality whenever my feet think of leaving the floor. Money. I can’t do what I want to without money. I can’t have money without work. I can’t do what I want to and work at the same time. A circle the tortures me. I see pictures—my happy, smiling baby. The tiny newborn pictures make way for the sitting, standing pictures. They frame my desk, my wall, are etched on my heart. My soul longs for the comfort of her touch, the stickiness of her hands, the fullness of her laughter. I want to take walks, go to the playground, plant a garden. I want to do laundry, play peek-a-boo, pet the dog. I want to talk in babbles, teach ABCs and splash in rain puddles. I want crafts and colors, messes and baths, dancing and battles of wills. I want to learn to sew with her, to teach her to play piano, to just BE.
Instead, I labor over spreadsheets. I discover problems and create problems. I curse at my computer screen. I yearn for five o’clock so I can go home and begin my day. My life is lived between 5 and 10 pm on weekdays and on weekends. Seems like a lot of hours to be only existing, yet not really living.

I'm going to use this as an opportunity. An opportunity to get off my butt and take a risk. It is making me take a risk. I'll get a job, any job, I don't care, and keep looking for what I really want to do, what will make me happy at home AND at work. Maybe I'll go so school, maybe I'll figure out exactly who I am and what my place is in this world.I have friends. I have family. I am cared for and loved. We won't starve, and even in the worst case scenario, we won't be homeless. Life will move on. I will move on, and be better for it.

Yeah, this has not been a good month

Can we get a do-over?  Just the from Setember 15 until now, please.  Can you manage that, universe?  

No?  Well, damn.  Then help me figure out this mess of crap you've piled in my lap, okay?  

Apparently, my job doesn't think my family and the life of my husband is more important that my continued productivity.  As you can imagine, I've been a bit preoccupied.  Productive isn't a word I'd use to describe me right now.  So, I'm being let go.  For real.  No job.  That means there are two of us, both healing, both hurting, and not a single job.  No health insurance.  

I'm scared.  I'm humiliated.  I feel defeated.  

I haven't been the world's best employee.  There are things I'd change.  I know that.  I made mistakes.  But the lack of empathy for a person and their real-person life from my company just hurts.  I've been there over three years.  I've done good work.  

Seriously, about that do-over?  Can you think about it again, universe?

Little Miss McDonald on her Farm

Here's the promised pictures of our week away.

In Need of Sleep

Isn't is amazing how not sleeping very well throws everything into the realm of DOOM! HELP! SUCKS! the sun will never shine again!

Sofia has a cold. Not a cold that affects her during the day, save for some sniffles and a mama that is constantly running after her with a tissue, but a cold that disrupts her sleep and makes her feel crummy. Know what a baby does when she feels crummy and doesn't know why and can't sleep? She makes sure the whole house knows it.
We heard her begin to whimper last night (mind you, this is the fourth or fifth night of this) and laid in bed still, our ears piqued hoping that the cries wouldn't escalate and the little angel would put herself back to sleep. Cries continue, paper/rock/scissors to determine who has to actually GET UP to fetch her. Of course, she wants to nurse. She always wants to nurse. Forever. Listening to a stuffy kid nurse is not very calming and now I have booger on my boob. Sweet.
So, we used to co-sleep. I liked it. Until Sofia didn't. Now she kicks, moves, wiggles, farts, nurses, bites, talks, and all other sorts of non-approved-nighttime activities when in bed with us. None of us sleep. But the energy required to put her back in her bed and deal with the inevitable aforementioned crying of the feeling-crummy-toddler equals more than the lazy solution of just dealing with her where she is.
So, all this = very little sleep.
Fast forward to this afternoon. I imagine we are not the only family with financial stresses, nor are we the only family dealing with difficult things. I swear, though, one little straw fell, and I hit the floor. Doom! Drama! Poor me! Break out that violin, folks, for I have the worst sob story.
After a few minutes of literally forced, relaxed breathing, a latte and some reality, I have officially calmed down.
And planned some sleepy time for me this weekend. Because you simply can't hold your family together when you are falling apart.

Happy Things

I've been so down lately, having a hard time forcing myself to do even the most basic things.  I need a reminder of reasons to smile.  

happy thing #1:  the sun remembered to shine this afternoon.  I watched my daughter walk all around the playground and go down the big slide all by herself.

happy thing #2:  all three of us went for a walk together, watching the moon rise.

happy thing #3:  Chipotle

happy thing #4:  Sofia has learned to jump on the trampoline.

happy thing #5:  I'm close to getting Sofia to say "Oh bah mah".  

A Week in Paradise

Life goes on. And on. We all must figure out how to go on within it.

To that end, we took a week just to be. To be together. To be alone. To be happy.

I'm not ready for this week to end (though I am still working--this would be much more relaxing if my work didn't keep enticing me back to the computer screen. I should be grateful, and I am, but if I am truthful, I'm also a bit spiteful.) There is a garden to be harvested, bursting with tomatoes, pumpkin, squash, raspberries, potatoes. There are grapes begging to be plucked off the vines. Juice and jellies to be made, pies to be eaten. Leaves to gather and woods to be hiked through, sheep to be watched and dogs to chase balls. A certain tot's grandparents to take care of us all.

Real life is waiting for us at home, but for now, we're relishing the fall; the beauty, the primal work, the bounty and the colors.

It feels good.

Sofia is beaming. At first her molars (damn the molars! ) caused her to wake hourly at night, and she could sense all the upheaval that had been our life. Now, she's walking everywhere, completely given up crawling. The Grandpa she'd been suspicious of since birth is now her best buddy. She loves watching the sheep and has figured out how to throw a ball for the dog. She's eating raspberries direct from the garden and discovered that she adores cherry tomatoes.

Life is good. [pictures to follow]

Hiding in Plain Sight

Know how life bumbles along and bumbles along, and things like politics and clean laundry and a dog-hair-free floor seem to matter until all of a sudden something cataclysmic happens and the world just stops and the only thing that matters is that the person you love keeps breathing?  Yeah, it has been that kind of week.

For the most part, I haven't talked about it.  But then, that is the problem, isn't it?  There is this hidden illness that nobody talks about but so many confront every day.  This disease that kills and maims and reduces life to misery and is very, very real.  It's been a part of my life since I met my husband, much as he and I both tried to sweep it under the rug.  And it became very, very real to us both a week ago last Thursday.

Depression.  For so long, I just didn't understand.  Perhaps I still don't.   But until people open up and talk about it like they do any other disease (diabetes, cancer, heart failure) wonderful people like my husband will go without help, not understanding themselves, and not understood by those who love them most. 

We tried.  For years, we tried.  I asked Julio to get help.  I begged him to talk to someone other than me.  "Choose happiness", I'd say.  "Home is where you are", I'd blabber.

But I completely missed the point. 

He could no more choose happiness than a patient with leukemia can just tell all those blasts where to go.

After a few years, he finally relented and sought help.  Only, the help he got wasn't enough.  The meds were working, but none of us; not his doctors, not me, not even himself took it seriously enough.  We didn't talk about it outside our family.  We kept it hidden, attempted to deal with its ramifications all by ourselves. 

Until we couldn't.  

We can't not talk about it anymore.  We can't keep it between us, and take the medications as prescribed.  They aren't enough.  We're fighting, but the disease is fighting back.  

September 19th at 10:30 pm, I thought it had won.  It tried to take his life, and so very nearly succeeded.  

But we prevailed.  Life and love and luck and medicine came through.  His life was saved thanks to the ICU and ventilators.  And now, we're talking about it.  Too many people suffer, too many families hide in shame, pretending everything is okay, that no disease clouds their lives.  It is time to bring this very real disease, with its very real life-threatening complications out of hiding so that it can be vanquished and controlled.  

Julio wants to live.  He wants to get better.  He does not want this disease to permeate our lives, tear us apart, isolate us from those we love.  He's fighting back, and I'm alongside of him.  We're not doing it alone.  We can't.

Happy Birthday, Honey

Mi corazon,

It has been seven years since we first celebrated your birthday together over a pitcher of beer in MacWen's. That feels like a life-time ago, yet only yesterday.

You had fewer gray hairs, then, though you've always been distinguished. I was barely a woman, and definitely not the same person as I am today. Had we known then where we'd be now, would we have looked at each other differently that night? I remember the feel of your hand in mine; so new and still trembling. I remember feeling so, so lucky to be allowed to hug you, to be the girl to kiss the birthday boy.

Remember that first camping trip we took for your birthday that weekend? The botched tent, the cold night, the tuna and crackers? I've never been so grateful for duct tape, I'll tell you that. The laguna and las cascadas and the paramo, all so perfect.

We've grown and changed as individuals. We've grown and changed as a couple, learning about real love, deep sadness, true happiness.

Seven years later, I'm so incredibly blessed to be the wife that hugs you, the woman to kiss the birthday man.

Happy Birthday, mi vida. I'm ready to celebrate one more year with a bottle of wine and a lot of love,

For always,
tu indiecita

Perhaps Progress?

I'm knocking on wood and keeping my lips sealed, but perhaps there is progresss in the you-know-what?



Remember being about 5 years old and thinking the the days couldn't go any slower, that your birthday would never get here, that Christmas was years away, and you totally didn't believe your mom when she told you that someday, life would go by much faster?

Yeah, well, I believe my mom now.
How in the hell is it Friday already? I haven't done even the bare minimum on my to-do list this week, and it is already time to start it again. We have company coming tonight (who might beat me home) and the sheets on the guest bed need changing, the floors need vacuuming, there is a laundry back-up, and both bathrooms need cleaning. Boo. Can't time just slow down a little bit? I mean, not so I get to enjoy the infancy of my daughter or spend hours laughing with my spouse, or to use time to figure out how to fix health care or world peace or something. No, just so I can get housework done. Priorities, people.

I have been taking time for me, or at least attempting. This is hard in a world where Monday seems to come right after Wednesday, when July feels like Christmas is just around the corner (and seriously, it is! and there is so much to do!) I have successfully managed to take at least half an hour a day for myself, to work out for myself 6 days this week. That is a milestone. It is liberating to be able to walk without singing "Itsy Bitsy Spider" while doing the motions and pushing a stroller trying to entertain an increasingly fussy infant who is done with the walk before I am (picture that on a busy street, passing lots of people. entertaining, it is not). Sometimes, I even have thoughts of my own. Or at least time for my brain to relax.

Why, then, do I feel selfish if Sofia has woken up already when it is time for my walk? Because I do. And most times, I take her, and I want to take her. I wish I had the luxury of needing to get away from her, but I don't. The hours I'm at work are away from her as I have to be. That's probably why we haven't really gotten a babysitter or had a date (we HAVE had a date. three times. In one year). Any minute of home time not spent with my daughter is a waste of precious, precious time.

So, I'm back to begging the universe for just one more day a week. Couldn't the Earth turn just a little slower? Give me one more day for to be with my daughter?
Or vacuum. Dog hair doesn't clean itself, you know.

Sleep

or rather, the lack there of, for me, my husband, and most notably, Sofia. Boy, are you going to be tired of hearing about sleep.

We go from having one great night to one horrible night. Last night falls in the horrible category. She was up, literally, every half an hour. Wanting to nurse. No, insisting to nurse. Loudly. In that cry that makes me want to move mountains to be by her side. Or make it go away, anyway. I acquiesced the first three or four times (really, who's counting) but finally at 3 am, I refused. I held her, I cuddled, I hushed, I gave her her pacifier. I told her it wasn't time to nurse, it was time to sleep, and to my immense surprise, she laid her head on my shoulder and fell asleep. So, I put her in her crib.
You would have thought I was trying to kill her, the noise she made. So I said goodnight and forced myself out the door. Hubby (dear, dear hubby) wakes up. He goes to her room. He brings her to me, asking if she had nursed.
Me: "YES!"
Him: when? It's 3 am already.
Sofia: RRRRROARRRR
Me: at 2:freaking30!
So, he takes her and I hear crying, and I cringe in my bed, forcing myself not to go nurse her. Then, she gets quiet, and eventually I fall asleep.
And then, the dream. I'm on a walk. Across the country. With my sisters. Suddenly, I realize that I left Sofia at home, alone, upstairs. I start running. And running. And not only do I have to run, but I'm being chased. And I have to dodge my predators and get through all these traps. Finally, I almost reach home, and see Sofia coming toward me. Only she isn't whole--something happened to her legs and her body. I had failed her.
Think my subconscious is telling me something?
So, I just don't know what to do. She is ONE.YEAR.OLD. That is plenty old enough not to nurse at night, plenty old enough to sleep all night long. But, I don't want to deny her if she is actually in need. What if she's getting sick and just wants mom? What if her teeth hurt? What if she's missing me and just wants to be reassured? Do I keep up nursing? Do I put my foot down?
All I know is, I get another cup of coffee. at 2pm.

Irony

So, the day I dare speak the words "she slept through the night" we get a night with a one-year-old waking every hour. Bah. I will never utter praise for her sleeping habits again, lest I jinx them. She woke up bright-eyed and bushy tailed. Julio and me? Not so much. Thank goodness it is Friday.
Think work would mind if I just took a short snooze?

Bitter

Sofia has always been a waker. As is, not a sleep-through-the-nighter. She's over one year old now, and consistently waking twice a night. To nurse, always to nurse. Imagine my surprise and glee when I heard the first cries at 6:20 am this morning. That would be one entire night of sleep for me; uninterrupted for 7 hours. Heaven.
So, we nursed, as usual, and she fell back asleep, as usual. I got up, cleaned up the kitchen from last night (yes, we are lazy at times), made the morning pot o' joe, and did my workout.
Afterwards, I poured myself a mug and relaxed in the livingroom with my husband, listening to the radio news, and rolling our eyes at the debacle of the RNC.
Perfect beginning to the day.

If Sofia wakes talking and happy, she's ready for the day. If she wakes in tears, she is ready for a nap. So, when I heard her crying at just past 8, I braced myself. She immediately wanted to nurse, so we snuggled in on the couch. Then, she spotted it.
The mug.
She pulled off, pointing and groping toward the coffee table. I relented, and gave her a sip.
All smiles.
My girl, she needs her morning cuppa, as well. Breast milk, well, that just doesn't cut it. The sweet, nourishing mama love holds nothing over the bitter taste of morning.

Positivity

I've been fresh out of ideas about anything, lately. Life keeps coming full-speed and thinking about anything other than what's for dinner, what errands need running before getting home and playing on the floor with puzzles and books with a certain 1 year old has been pushed to the side. So, when I found a challenge at Zoot's I thought I'd play along.

In the midst of all the polarity and politics and general crankiness, what makes you happy? What caused a laugh or a smile or a feeling of contentedness?

1. My dog eating flies. We had the screen door open this weekend, and it is a hoot to watch my lab hunt flies. Seriously funny.

2. My little girl walking across the livingroom, then divebombing into my arms in a fit of glee.

3. Trying to salsa with my husband in the kitchen. Except that the music was technically merengue.

4. Having morning coffee on the new chairs on my deck.

5. The fact that I have worked out every day this week.

6. Barak Obama (you know I had to be a little political)

7. Rocking my sweaty, sleepy, cuddly baby to sleep.

8. Raspberry jello

9. The thought of seeing not only my parents and sister this weekend, but also some very dear friends.

10. Choosing to be happy.