Success?

Not about what you might think, but we may have a new development over here...potty training success!  Now, lest I proclaim "Mission Accomplished" while the troops are still in battle, it does appear that we are headed in that direction.  We made it all day with only one accident (the number two kind, of course), and potty success at every attempt.  Without tears!  Much better than my near-tearful confession yesterday morning as a wet-panted girl waltzes into the livingroom not two minutes after we came off the potty because "i can't do it!" that THIS. IS. NOT. GOING. WELL.  We should quit.  Bah.
Never mind that we are still in the bare-bottomed stage, which means she cannot miss that she is peeing, with no diaper or training panty to lessen the drench.  We may have a wrench thrown into our success as she goes back to daycare.  But!  We are committed!  And the most exciting part, Sofia is committed, too.  I thought it was a one-way street, but it appears that my big girl is officially putting on her big girl panties.  Pun intended, of course.

Mid-January Check-up

The month of January is half over, which is a good time for New Year's Resolution monitoring.
Number one resolution:  grow a backbone.  On this front, I'm succeeding, mostly.  Little by little, anyway.  I stood up for myself, and am continuing to stand up for myself at my current job.  That is good.  There is room for improvement, however.  I need to be able to keep that backbone, and transfer it to other situations.  Like moving forward, for instance.  I need to make two phone calls that I'm scared to make.  One to the technical college where I hope to enroll as soon as possible, and the other to the county to see if we can possibly keep our badgercare insurance, especially now that I am moving to part time and becoming a student.  Hopefully.  Goal:  By the middle of next week, have made both of those phone calls, with movement toward action.

Number two resolution:  the perpetual 'lose 30 pounds' resolution.  That one isn't going so well.  I have a sweet tooth that you wouldn't believe.  I crave fat, sugar, and all things bad for me.  I don't make time for exercise. 
I can do this.  I can take control of myself, control my cravings and get my butt in gear, literally.  I always feel better when I exercise, so why is it so hard to motivate to do?  It shouldn't be.
Goals for this week:  1)  Drink water all day.  That will help to curb my fake hunger.  Perhaps, when craving a snack-upon, drink a glass of water first.  2)  Just say no.  Recognize the cravings, then remember how much I'd like to lose this extra weight.  How I hate to look at pictures of myself.  How I want to not feel fat.  And, 3) Exercise each day.  Even if just a little.  10 minute walk here, 10 minutes of jumping on the trampoline there.  Just something. 
Humph.  Not half an hour later, and I'm eating at tootsie roll.  Boo.  But, I did get a glass of water.  Step one.  I'll enjoy this little morsel and move on.

The Simple Life

I like the simple life.  Being able to do dishes with my husband is the kind of luxury you miss when working a million hours a week, coupled with said husband working pm shifts. 
We got to do dishes together last night.  After eating together, watching football together, taking our Christmas tree down together, playing with our daughter together.  Normal, every day kind of stuff.  The kind of stuff that really gets missed when you don't take the time to do it.
It was a great evening.
I like the simple life.  I like to be able to do laundry and vacuum and cook and read a magazine in the morning and perhaps a book at night.  I like just sitting on the floor playing toys with my daughter.  I really like being home.
I've learned that about myself relatively recently.  Don't get me wrong, I love adventure and traveling and going out and doing something.  But I love to be home, doing simple, normal things. 
Part of this change is to allow me to have that time, to be the mom I want to be; a mom with time for the normal stuff.  I want my daughter to get sick of me, not to constantly miss me. 
I've got the number to call to start LPN classes.  I'm going to do it, today. 
We celebrated Kings' Day yesterday, the Parra tradition.  It didn't get to be all day, like it should be, since I worked until 3 pm.  The kings were lazy, apparently, because they didn't make it under our tree until after dinner time, but Sofia was thrilled nonetheless.  Los Reyes brought her stacks of books, which she actually seemed to like.  I was extremely proud, too, that when she saw a few presents under the tree, she passed them out to her daddy and me, and then asked if there was one for her.  Sharing.  What a gem.
We got the tree taken down, we ate our lasagna and lemon meringue pie, drank our hot chocolate with candy canes, and even uncorked a bottle of wine. 
We don't get as much family time, all of us together as we should.  It was much needed.

Another New Start

One year ago, we left the home we were building, jobless and hopeless, trying to find the optimism of the journey to come.  I was finally going to find my dream, to listen for my calling and fulfill my vocation.  And then life stepped in.  I began, got my CNA, and then a full-time job.  The prospect of having an actual paycheck was powerful, and I dropped the school ball.  Then, I started working at the newspaper, and truly enjoyed it, especially at first.  I wasn't making much money, but perhaps community news would be my calling.  I stopped thinking of school.
After a while, though, I figured out I was being used.  There really is no future here, not one that looks like my calling. I was getting angry, and losing time with my family.
The New Year came, and I found my nerve.  Told my boss and my friend how I was feeling. And I took a leap.
I start part-time as soon as our new employee can begin.  I'm losing a large portion of income, and am scared at how we are going to survive. The fear is outweighed by the prospect of continuing the dream I let slide by.
Maybe not.  I'm still scared.  I am looking forward, however, to actually getting in school, to actually listening to my calling, assuming I know what it is.
It begins now.  I am tired of each year passing, time going through my fingers.  I'm not getting older, I don't get these days back.  I'm about to turn 29 years old.  It's got to start now.
So, I'm dusting off my pencils, digging out my backpack.  Whee!

Day One

So, the very first day of the year, and resolution number one started.

And I'm scared shitless.

That's okay.  I told her.  I told her that I am being overworked, that I need more consideration, that I don't like the way she's treating me.

And got hung up on.  No, I'm not kidding.

And then dealt not with the boss, but with her husband.  Until two hours ago, when they both came over and we had a 'meeting'.  They had listened to my concerns, and had responses for them, though they still think I should be able to do it all and think I have time management problems.  Whatever.

I think I am going to be part time, reporter and layout only.  I am going to get back to what I meant to do a year ago; go back to school.  Hopefully, I'll take Julio with me.  I'm not sure how we'll swing it financially, but somehow we'll manage.

And just like that...2010

We have officially entered a new decade, and what better way to spend the very first day than...
sitting at work. 
Exhausted. 

I'm seriously questioning why, exactly, I am here.  Because you know I am here alone.  Yet, not allowed to go home. 
This should be my resolution for 2010.  Grow a backbone, woman.
Stop letting yourself get pushed around and used up. 
I am worked hard, too hard, with nary a thought for my well being.  I worked 9 and a half hours yesterday, only to be asked to take New Year's Eve pictures at night, and yes, please still be here by 8 am.  My big rebellion was to be here by 8:15 (oooh, the rascal I am) and compose strong, direct email messages that will never be sent to the person who needs to read them. 
I've got to talk to her.
I'm a simple person.  I like to be home, doing simple things like making dinner, doing laundry, playing train tracks and doll house and Sesame Street characters with my family.  I like to have time when it is light outside to go for a walk, take Sofia sledding, and just be fully present in my own life.
Right now, I'm working 50-60 hours a week, and I'm salaried, people.  SALARIED.  Which means, no over time.  And lest you be fooled that it is a good salary, let me assure you that hourly, I'm making less than $6.  And no benefits.
Yes, I know that this is a start-up newspaper.  Yes, I know that my boss is incredibly busy with her family and the new babies and everything.  Yet, she knew this was coming.  She knew she was having twins and starting a new business, and she purposefully did not hire someone to help out during her absence.  I don't see how this is my problem.  I'm being used.
I have tried to talk to her about this, about needing more help, less work, less hours.  I haven't been as direct or as strong-willed as I should be, however, and nothing is changing.
I need to grow a backbone.  Tell her how this is affecting me, and demand change.  I could earn more working 40 hours a week at Fleet Farm, and I bet they offer benefits. 
The thing is, I enjoy this work.  Just not all 60 hours of it.  I like getting into the community, taking pictures, talking to interesting people.  I like seeing the pages come together and having a product at the end to show what you've done, a product that people enjoy reading.  I don't want to work at Fleet Farm. 
Perhaps now is the time to look into school, for both my husband and myself.  Perhaps there is a better fit for me somewhere else.
Because I am tired.  Just like at my eyes.
So, welcome 2010.  This year, I resolve to be strong, stand up for my needs. 
Oh, yeah, and to lose 30 pounds.  This time, I mean it.

Farewell, 2009

Hard to believe we've completed an entire decade since I welcomed the year 2000 in my friend April's living room, wearing my very first (and not the last) pair of 200X themed glasses. 
We're about to enter the teens, yet I don't feel any different than I did at the beginning of the decade, when I was exiting my own teens. 
When we entered 2009, we were so glad to be rid of 2008.  2008 cut us deeply, and then poured lemon juice in the wounds.  We had no idea how we expected to heal or where 2009 would lead, but it just had to be better than 2008, it just had to.
And it was.
Don't get me wrong, this year definitely had its share of downs, plenty of tears and loss and heartache.  But 2009 also saw us pick ourselves off, dust off, and keep on swimming.
I like the idea of a new year.  A new chance, a blank slate, a starting over point.  No matter that the new year falls smack dab in the middle of winter, at no particular changing point in the actual year, just an arbitrary number change, but nonetheless, the idea appeals to me. 
Every year, I make resolutions.  Every year, I break resolutions.  I try to think of the me I'd like to be, and make conscious efforts and choices to achieve that me.  It rarely works.  But every once in a while, I make a change that sticks around, and that small success of many failures keeps me making new year resolutions.
Plus, it is tradition, and lord knows I'm a sucker for tradition.
So, I'll continue to make new years' resolutions, and do my darndest to stick to them.
We'll eat our 12 grapes, pop our bottle of champagne, and welcome in not only the new year, but the new decade.  We'll remember the blessings of 2009, and say goodbye to the parts we'd like to forget. 
Here's hoping for a glorious start of the new decade, and a happy 2010 for all.

Merry Christmas

I'm feeling grumpy, and I just don't know why.
We had a relatively fabulous Christmas, despite a quick trip to the ER (asthma attack for Julio, which responded to treatment and was really speedy, as ER trips go), two inches or rain that turned all our snow into slush, which has since frozen so we now live on a skating rink, and a disaster with the oyster stew, which curdled.
We had joy and presents, and wonder in the face of the small one.  She stayed awake, alert and excited until midnight on Christmas Eve, opening presents from family.  Sofia did beautifully at the Christmas Eve service at church, which could have been  a disaster.  I sing in the choir, so she and I were front and center.  Keeping a two-year-old occupied for an entire church service at the front of the church is, let's just say, interesting.  She did well, though, and tried to climb the banister, stared with intrigue at the real baby in the manger scene (until turning around and saying to me, "Baby Jesus scare me.")  She banged on her 'Little Drummer Boy' coffee can drum, and sat in her princess dress facing the crowd.  Afterwards. she ran around the sanctuary, and got her head stuck in the bars of the stair case to the pulpit.  "Mama, I stuck!"
Sofia, for one, actually enjoyed the oyster stew, despite its strangeness.
Julio had to work, but got home right after 10, and we had a great time as a family.  Sofia loved her presents from us, and has been carrying around her little doll (which she named Baby Tigger) since then.
Sarah got a Wii, and though it was very late, she and Julio and I stayed up playing for awhile.
Then I (ahem, Santa) filled stockings, put out candy, and put the presents under the upstairs tree, even though someone forgot to leave cookies.
We slept in, all of us, including Sofia.  She woke up smiling, and excited about the presents under the tree.
Mom and Dad left for DC to see their new grandbaby (I am so jealous; want to hold baby Anika!), and because of the weather and Julio's respiratory distress, we all stayed home and played Wii, read books, and played with all the new toys Santa brought.  Besides having to trudge through the slush to do chores, it was a great day.
I'm not sure why I'm so grumpy.  Perhaps because tomorrow is Monday, and I abhor Monday, more so now than ever, as it is usually a 16-20 hour work day.  Besides that, I'm not at all ready for Monday, which makes it worse.  I have to spend today trying to call people to do interviews (the weekend after Christmas.  Yes, I'm sure they will be thrilled to hear from me.)
Maybe it is because Christmas is over, and I didn't get to watch all the movies, listen to all the music, do all the traditions that I wanted to.
I'm not sure what it is, but I've got to get past it.

Fly, Fly, Little Wing

I tried to write about Suey on Friday, when I could barely do anything but cry.  I couldn't do it.  Yet, how can one ever really write about Suey? How can any words encapsulate her spirit?  Even though it isn't enough, isn't nearly enough, words are what we have now.  Suey left her body last Friday, December 11 at 2:30 in the afternoon.
Oh, how I love her.  She had the most incredible laugh, a deep one from the belly, that often ended in a snort.  The best kind of snort.  And the best part about her laugh, is how often you heard it.  She was always laughing.
She had a zest about her in every thing she did.  Even sitting around the house doing nothing would have a Suey twist.  She's make us sit outside in on a warm day, and put our chairs inside the kiddie pool to cool off (with a beer in a coozie, of course).  If her husband fell asleep in the living room, she'd paint his toenails sparkly blue, then wait for him to notice. 
Suey was welcoming.  To everyone.  Just as at home at the bowling alley or on a cruise ship, Suey made friends wherever she went.  She had that special way of making every single person feel loved and included and part of the group.  She took me into her home so many times, and always made me feel that she was the lucky one to have me there. 
She made a personalized baby blanket for every baby, and they were all beautiful and unique.  She helped me create baby blankets for my friends' babies, and I'll try to continue the tradition on my own, though they won't be the same without her special flair.
Suey was real.  She was always herself, and fully present in each moment. She loved herself, and she loved everyone around her. 
She leaves behind so many broken hearts, trying to navigate this world with her life force no longer a part of it.
Most of all, she leaves behind two daughters, my cousins, teenagers.  They need their mommy.  It breaks my heart, all the life Suey is missing, and all the moments Taylor-Ann and McKenna will never get to share with her.
Rest in Peace, Suey.  You are loved, and will be remembered always.

Suey

I love you, Suey.

God, how I'm going to miss you.

Revitalize

I'm still here. Going to try to revive this thing, lest it sit in Internet purgatory, freeze-framing our lives at the point of transition.
So, apparently, I forgot I had a blog. Look! Here it is! All neglected and dusty, depicting the life of a baby who is nearly ONE YEAR OLDER than she was then. Like, she doubled.
Sofia is two now. She's a riot.
She's my big girl. She started singing the alphabet right around her second birthday, and if there is anything cuter than the way she says w, x, y and z, I don't want to hear it, because my poor heart might really just puddle up on the floor.
She recognizes her letters. One day, we were in the basement on the computer with grandma and grandpa and aunt Sarah (yes, going to the computer room is a family event. isn't it at your house?), and she sat at the other computer, pointing to the letters on the keyboard, naming each one. Except that she said W for M, but really, who can blame her? What if the key was on backwards? That's totally a W, Mom.
She counts to 15 in English, and to 10 in Spanish. Not just the numbers, either. She actually counts objects. How many (fill in the blank), Sofia? 1, 2, 3, 4. There's Four, Mommy!
For a long time, she would count the objects, and then add one. She'd count to four, and then say, There's Five! She caught on now.
She can jump. She's been working on that one for awhile, now, and would be so cute, gearing her little legs up and spring off the floor, then not actually leave the floor. WIth practice, however, both feet are now air born at the same time.
She loves to run. Run everywhere. If she's not running, she's obstinately not moving. She loves to kick, too. I took her to a high school soccer game this fall, and she really thought she was going to get to play, not just watch.
She loves music. She can sing along, the words and everything, to that fabulous hit, by Big Bird, ACDEFGHIJKLMNOPQRSTUVWXYZ. And Elmo's Song. She sings that, too.
She loves her friends. Cady and Cassie, and Jay and Ella, hold very dear spaces in her heart. She's still learning sharing, and taking turns, and "nice touches" and all that, but what do we expect? She's TWO.
The child in my house is not the same one who was there the last time I wrote. She's one year older, one year wiser, and one year naughtier. She's simply fantastic.

Life is better. Slowly but surely, we're pulling ourselves out of the holes we had been stuck in.

A New Day

Sometimes things look better in the morning.  Nothing has resolved, all the problems are still there, but I have something better. 

We had our Dia de Los Reyes celebration, and celebrate we did.  We had pan de jamon, key lime pie, and lots of laughs.  Sofia helped take down the tree, and carefully placed each ornament back in the boxes, and we talked about the story each one holds.  The Kings brought her a tricycle, which she pushes around, climbing into the seat, saying "Peeeeeeese".  We drive around the livingroom, laughing and zooming.   Sofia's baby gets a turn.

Julio and I sat on the couch, watching Sofia play.  She played with her farm, dancing the the tractor's song (don't ask).  She carefully holds her baby, rocking her and kissing her, then placing her in the cradle, covering her up, rocking her, saying "Nigh Night".  

This girl, this family.  

It's better than I could ever have imagined.  Her kisses and smiles, her laughs and giggles, each new word, each new discovery, each moment is perfect.  

We're still moving in with my parents.  Our house is still in danger of foreclosure (keep hoping for that short sale), we are still unemployed.  We're formulating a plan, that I'm hoping with all my might comes to fruition and makes us  better off in the long run.  

No matter what happens, though, as long as we have each other, we'll be okay.  

the hell?

Damn.  The possibilities we thought we had have pretty much closed.  And here I was, thinking 2009 might be kinder to us and something might actually work out.  

I don't know what else to do or how to keep on keeping on.  It all seems so futile.  We're contemplating a move in with my parents.  It does not feel good to be nearly 28 years old and still floundering, still living with the parents, still needing help.  My own two feet haven't been very sturdy to stand on, it seems.  How much longer before they tire of my bullshit?  

I need to remind myself, it has only been a few months.  We have been pretty tight with money since we married five years ago, but we only actually required help one other time.  I haven't failed my life.  I've hit a rough spot that requires the help of those who love me.  

Tomorrow is January sixth, the Parra tradition.  We began it only last year, but I'm looking forward to it.  We make traditional food, take down our tree, give Sofia a small present (this year is a garage sale find from the summer; a tricycle!) from Los Reyes and remind ourselves how blessed we are to have each other.  So, I'm baking and trying to pretend that my life isn't falling apart.  

I've got to ditch the last shreds of my pride that remain with me and move back to the town I grew up in, the place I thought I left forever at 18.  

Wish me luck.

and...one more time

It's a new year and a new chance.  Right?  I get a second chance at this blogging thing?  You know, with actual posting of actual ideas and thoughts and shit?  If I have any of those, that is.

So.  Not much has happened since my last post, and I haven't been able to think beyond tomorrow and how we're going to eat and survive.  I spend each minute trying not to fall apart and wrestling with that knot in my stomach which so far, I haven't untied.  

It might be looser.  I may be closer.

We are losing the house.  We can't find jobs here, we can't make mortgage, and we owe more than the house is currently worth.  We are signing with a realtor and hoping for a short sale which should leave us clean and avoid foreclosure.  And if we have to foreclose, we foreclose.  Being a grown-up sucks donkey balls. (Grown-ups are allowed to use that phrase still, right?  Please tell me grown-ups are still allowed to use that phrase, because if not, I give up right now.  Yes?  Good.  Continue on.)

We're planning on a move.  Two possibilities, one more likely than the other.  It is scary, thinking of starting over again, this time with a child.  I want things to be perfect, right here, right now.  But they aren't.  There are problems beyond just the job thing.  It isn't like a move will leave all the troubles here behind us, but there are advantages to the new location that might help.  

There is the possibility of school.  I'm hoping to go to nursing school sometime in the next two years.  I've been waiting for my vocation since I graduated undergrad, and just haven't felt it.  Nothing seemed right, nothing called to me, so I remained stuck in my mundane, go-nowhere job letting life slip me by.  I think I've finally found it, though.  I've heard the voice telling me that this is my path.  

So.  I guess this post doesn't qualify as thoughts and ideas so much as catch up.  I'll get there, I promise.  Right now, I just need to keep on swimming, keep on swimming.  Even if that swimming doesn't seem like much, it just might take me where I need to go.

Filler

I don't have much to say.  Truly.  Bad news gets boring quickly, and unfortunately, we're very boring over here.

There have been bright spots, when I can ignore the elephant in the room.  Christmas is coming, after all, and a certain tot needs to know the magic of the season.  

So, I promise I haven't forgotten about my blog and my writing ambitions.  They are just on hold until my brain can think something other than "DOOM!"

Thanksgiving

I'm aware that this is a day early, but I'll probably not have time tomorrow, and Thanksgiving is very important.  The holiday and the sentiment.

Though times are tough and I'm in tears more than I laugh right now, I have much to be grateful for.  Especially in times like this, I need to remember and remind myself of all the blessings in my life and to be thankful.

Thanksgiving is knowing that we're not entitled anything.  Nothing is deserved, nothing is earned.  Every single blessing is a blessing to be grateful for.  If this weren't the truth, then people who work themselves to the bone every day wouldn't lose their babies to malaria, wouldn't get HIV, wouldn't have to deal with drought and famine.  If this weren't true, then people full of love and devotion and integrity wouldn't have lost their lives, their loved ones, their everything in a tsunami, a hurricane, an earthquake.  If this weren't true, everyone in the world would have equal opportunity; nobody would be born on third base thinking they've hit a triple (kudos to whoever said that first; I love it), nobody would give their all and end up short.  If this weren't true, disease would only strike those who have only done bad in their life and babies wouldn't die before they are born.

So I am grateful.  Grateful for every day the sun shines, grateful for the warmth inside my house, grateful for every smile that passes my lips.

My blessings are endless, and my cup truly runneth over, even if that is hard to see at times.

My Sofia.  The little miracle that hugs and kisses me everyday.  The blessing that I say 'thank you' to the universe for daily.  

My Julio.  I've known true love, true passion, romance and friendship.  For every day we're together, for our past and our future, I'm grateful.

My Family.  My incredible, unique, wonderful sisters.  We may have argued as children, but they really are the most fun, best support I could ask for.  I'm blessed and grateful.   I was raised by the very best parents.  My extended family of aunts and cousins and grandparents, my family-in-law; all interesting and loving and a blessing.  We are so lucky to have families we love so much that we have to be sad that we don't see them as often as we'd like.  Gratitude.

Those are the obvious, the top three of any list.  Yet there are so many more, endless blessings.

The smell of mint underfoot in a frozen prairie.  The feel of a warm, furry puppy in my lap.  The sun shining on the fresh snow.  The birds at my feeder.  The health of those I love.  The talents I have.

My Friends.  Oh, my friends. Though they be scattered across the world, I am so grateful for the support and the love.  Though some have been lost, none will be forgotten. 

Music.  Laughter.  Love.  Sunshine.  Wind.  Rain.  Snow.  Leaves.  Trees.  Everything.

Happy Thanksgiving.  My heart is full.

That's my girl.

We went to a party last night, just Sofie and me.  We had wine and orange juice for the under 3 set.  We talked to adults and a certain someone charmed the pants off of every woman there.  And we had chocolate.  Oh, yes.  Sofia can not get enough of the chocolate.  She knows exactly what a candy wrapper looks like, and even ventured into the arms of Unknown Man (aka Uncle Bob) to get her hands on some M&Ms.  

That's my girl.

It is good to get out of the house once in awhile and just pretend that everything is okay.  It is hard work remembering all the bad luck and crap all the time, holding it up and clutching desperately at straws to hold it all together before it all hits a fan and is scattered.  Setting that load down is hard to do, but essential for sanity.  That's what last night's party was supposed to be.  And for the most part, it was.  I laughed and smiled and chatted.  However, small talk with people you don't see all that often inevitably starts with this question:  How are you?  Usually, that's not a big deal, not a tough question to answer.  And I could just lie.  Say we're fine, thanks so much, and how are you?  But I'm not a good liar, even little white-conversation-saver lies.  My eyes tear up and I muster a "We're okay" response and then look away quickly.

With any amount of luck and a lot of hard work, we'll be okay.  Someday, I won't feel like I'm drowning, that water is closing in on me from every direction and I don't have any idea which way up is, and even if I knew that, I couldn't find the shore to get out of this danger anyway.  I'll have my life in control and I'll feel just happy.  Someday.  

But not today.  Today, I have to seek out those moments.  Those times when I can just sip wine and set down the burdens of the day.  Times when M&Ms are the only thing that I need to smile.  

Seriously

I need a break.  From life, from reality, from money, from job searching.  From thinking.  From worrying.  From the past, present and future.  From everything.

Is there a pause button somewhere that can make everything just STOP?  Not slow down, not change, just stop for awhile, taking all feeling with it.  Just for a while.  I can deal with all these things; I just need a break before I do.

A Dichotomy

It feels cruel.  To finally have the job I've always wanted, constantly yearned for, yet be searching determinedly for something else.  

I'm a parent.  From now until forever I'll be a full-time mom.  No matter where I am or how far apart we are, SHE will be in my heart, my thoughts, my every cell.  My daughter.  It is no secret that I'm job-searching.  Grasping at straws in this cut-and-downsize economy begging someone, anyone, to pay me.  Perhaps offer me benefits.  Direct deposit.  That sort of thing.  

The part that is hard, though, is that I already have the job that I've dreamt of for so long.  I know I'll be a full-time mom always, no matter what, no matter if I'm being paid by another job.  But actually being a full-time at home stay-at-home mom suits me just fine.  If I could lose the worry and fear and dread somewhere along the way, this would be exactly how I choose to live my life.  

Only I don't get to choose.  I have to get up every morning and search like hell for the opportunity that will take me away from this heaven.  I hope and pray and cry for the chance to have my heart break in a million little pieces every day, to pay someone else to be there for my daughter's moments, to wipe her tears, to feed her lunch.

I've got to put these thoughts out.  I've got to make me peace with working full-time AND mothering full-time.  Happiness will be there in that balance, if I can find it.  

So, apparently instead of NaBloPoMo, I decided to boycott November all-together.  Awesome.

It's just that there's not much to say.  I don't like to be the downer all the time, and lately, that's what we are.  A house-full of downers.  

We're working on it.  I hope to be back with happier tones soon.