My hands are freezing.
Just got home from work. I got a call from daycare early in the afternoon, from the nurse there, who told me my son had had a giant episode of diarrhea (sorry, this is not meant for the squeamish). He's had some kind of bug for a few days, but his appetite has been fine, he's been drinking fine, playing, and so on. He's not dehydrated or sluggish or anything like that. So anyway, I called the doctor's office and yes, I'd tried the BRAT diet (bananas, rice, applesauce and toast) since yesterday and I thought things were getting back to normal, but apparently not. So I got an appointment for later in the afternoon, notified daycare, and then felt my stomach scrunch into a tighter knot than usual.
I know I am not the only mother in this situation, and I know there are single mothers who have less backup than I do, or mothers (or fathers, for that matter) who have less understanding bosses than I do. And I like where my son goes to daycare. I just hate feeling like somehow I'm a bad mother, or that they think I am. Yes, very insecure, very paranoid. And a good dollop of guilt too. You know, I don't love my job all that much. It's not horrible, it's not wonderful. I like the people I work with more than the job itself, and my paycheck helps us pay our mortgage and car and utility-related bills and put food on the table and pay off student loans, and all that fun reality stuff. And if the doctor had said "you must keep him home for the next two weeks" I'd be very happy to do that. But of course it's not that easy. And when I brought my note back to the daycare office to let them see proof that my son is not going to infect everyone, I kind of got the feeling that the woman wasn't really all that thrilled. And so I just felt like the inside of my son's little file there has "BAD MOTHER" written in red marker all over it.
I know, I need to get over that. I'm not a bad mother. I just wish I could be a stay-at-home mother, at least more of the time.
Tuesday, February 25, 2003
Still pregnant as far as I know. That's the thing - this early. The holding-your-breath just in case. And also trying to remember how I felt at this point when I was pregnant with my son. I wish I had kept a journal then.
I used to write obsessively, years ago. But I think in a lot of ways it got in the way of living. I would pour my heart out to blank pages, but not interact a whole lot with people. Not really, not deeply. Then one year, right around my birthday, I started rereading some of the volumes - I was at a low point then anyway, and I started reading some awful, tortured, redundant entry...and so I ripped them all up. Shredded them. Sat in bed watching soaps and tore them all to shreds. I was just so sick of her. Not that I magically changed too much from that point on, but I think it was a start.
I have time to write right now...my son didn't nap much at daycare today, so I was told. So I think the car ride home did him in.
Daycare. I like the daycare my son goes to. I like the staff, I feel comfortable leaving him there as far as his welfare is concerned. They will call me at work if there is any reason to. And I must admit that financially it is better that I work full time in addition to my husband and bothof his jobs....But. But I still have days where I feel horrible leaving him there and going off to work. I know he is in good hands. I'm not worried about him. I just wish it didn't have to be this way. He is so fascinating. And they see more of him than I do, almost. He is so small, and yet he's already heading toward his first birthday. Yes, it does seem like yesterday that he was born, that he smiled for the first time, that he rolled over, that he crawled...I know there are wonderful years ahead also. I just wish the "now" wouldn't swoosh by so quickly.
My sister has two children. They are 10 and 7. This year they will turn 11 and 8. I remember when each of them was born. I remember when each of them was the age and stage and size of my son - and I don't believe how amazingly fast their little lives have sped by. And then, when the 10-year old is almost 20, my son will turn 10...my husband's nephew is going to be 20 soon. So I look, from my baby to my nephew to my husband's nephew...and back down the steps again. It's incredible.
I used to write obsessively, years ago. But I think in a lot of ways it got in the way of living. I would pour my heart out to blank pages, but not interact a whole lot with people. Not really, not deeply. Then one year, right around my birthday, I started rereading some of the volumes - I was at a low point then anyway, and I started reading some awful, tortured, redundant entry...and so I ripped them all up. Shredded them. Sat in bed watching soaps and tore them all to shreds. I was just so sick of her. Not that I magically changed too much from that point on, but I think it was a start.
I have time to write right now...my son didn't nap much at daycare today, so I was told. So I think the car ride home did him in.
Daycare. I like the daycare my son goes to. I like the staff, I feel comfortable leaving him there as far as his welfare is concerned. They will call me at work if there is any reason to. And I must admit that financially it is better that I work full time in addition to my husband and bothof his jobs....But. But I still have days where I feel horrible leaving him there and going off to work. I know he is in good hands. I'm not worried about him. I just wish it didn't have to be this way. He is so fascinating. And they see more of him than I do, almost. He is so small, and yet he's already heading toward his first birthday. Yes, it does seem like yesterday that he was born, that he smiled for the first time, that he rolled over, that he crawled...I know there are wonderful years ahead also. I just wish the "now" wouldn't swoosh by so quickly.
My sister has two children. They are 10 and 7. This year they will turn 11 and 8. I remember when each of them was born. I remember when each of them was the age and stage and size of my son - and I don't believe how amazingly fast their little lives have sped by. And then, when the 10-year old is almost 20, my son will turn 10...my husband's nephew is going to be 20 soon. So I look, from my baby to my nephew to my husband's nephew...and back down the steps again. It's incredible.
I got up early (4:00) this morning to try to set up a simple web page on Yahoo!...and though I crept downstairs as silently as possible, given the few stairs that creak, my son woke up and is doing his very best to distract me. So I did a cursory job on the web page and came here to write...but I don't think I have much time...he is making little shrieking dinosaur baby noises....
I had a tough time yesterday at work...I wanted to say something. About being pregnant. I know it is too early, but I can't help it. I know I'm still in the "danger zone", time-wise. I had an early miscarriage the first time I was pregnant, so I know I should keep my mouth shut. But it's hard not to tell just one person.
And no, I am not so self-absorbed that I am not aware of what's going on in the world around me, or in my own state. I am in RI. I did not lose anyone close to me in the fire, but I know people who lost people...it is a horror. And not just the loss...the burn victims who lie in the area hospitals and their families are going through hell too. My heart goes out to all of them.
Okay, I think that is it for the moment. Hard to type one-handed while I lash my VERY wide-awake son to me with the other.
I had a tough time yesterday at work...I wanted to say something. About being pregnant. I know it is too early, but I can't help it. I know I'm still in the "danger zone", time-wise. I had an early miscarriage the first time I was pregnant, so I know I should keep my mouth shut. But it's hard not to tell just one person.
And no, I am not so self-absorbed that I am not aware of what's going on in the world around me, or in my own state. I am in RI. I did not lose anyone close to me in the fire, but I know people who lost people...it is a horror. And not just the loss...the burn victims who lie in the area hospitals and their families are going through hell too. My heart goes out to all of them.
Okay, I think that is it for the moment. Hard to type one-handed while I lash my VERY wide-awake son to me with the other.
Monday, February 24, 2003
Funny how things balance out. Sort of. Yesterday I had a horrible, frustrating fight on the phone with my mother - which I may or may not elaborate on in some future post. And after the battle and the angry sobbing afterward, I took a shower and got ready to go out to a pet store with my husband and son (that compact flourescent bulb quest) and also discovered that I am pregnant. Not very far along at all, so I am not telling people yet. Just my husband, of course, and I told my sister. I don't think anyone is reading this blog yet, so I can say it here. Hee hee hee.
Sunday, February 23, 2003
Well okay! I did it! Those first two tests didn't post when I originally typed them in, so I went away and folded some laundry and got my son dressed and now he and my husband are off to seek a new compact flourescent bulb for the fish tank and some stuff at Home Depot, so here I am.
And of course, now that I've got this set up, I am at a loss for something to write. That figures....
Well, I am happily married and happily the mother of an 8 month old son. I was going to name this blog "She Who Hesitates" originally, because I do hesitate about the smallest things - like what to order in a restaurant sometimes, (or what to type as another example of my hesitating...), or like what to name a blog or what email name to give myself - and I spent way too long this morning doing just that...so that's where that name idea came from...and then when push came to shove, I didn't want the rest of the phrase ("is lost") in anyone's mind, since I'm not lost - I'm just occasionally stuck.
So anyway, that is just a little bit of info on that.
What else. I may change that descriptive blurb on the side there...it sounds kind of pretentious. Maybe it's the word "musings."
I almost was a pastry chef - went through most of the schooling and certainly love the baking and the creativity. But a miserable period of carpal tunnel flare-up at the very wrong time (we were saving to buy a house) put a choice in front of me - have the surgery and recuperate and then go back and finish school and get back into the industry again, or cut my losses, remember everything I learned, and go back to my old job (with a raise!) and buy a house sooner rather than later.
I love our house. Maybe I wasn't passionate enough about becoming a pastry chef. Maybe if I had been younger and single with no thought of a house or a ticking biological clock...who knows. They say - and I believe - that things happen for a reason. So here I am - in my delightful house with a terrific kitchen and with my precious little family. No, I would not change a thing.
That's enough for now, though, long-winded as I am, I could probably type until tomorrow.
And of course, now that I've got this set up, I am at a loss for something to write. That figures....
Well, I am happily married and happily the mother of an 8 month old son. I was going to name this blog "She Who Hesitates" originally, because I do hesitate about the smallest things - like what to order in a restaurant sometimes, (or what to type as another example of my hesitating...), or like what to name a blog or what email name to give myself - and I spent way too long this morning doing just that...so that's where that name idea came from...and then when push came to shove, I didn't want the rest of the phrase ("is lost") in anyone's mind, since I'm not lost - I'm just occasionally stuck.
So anyway, that is just a little bit of info on that.
What else. I may change that descriptive blurb on the side there...it sounds kind of pretentious. Maybe it's the word "musings."
I almost was a pastry chef - went through most of the schooling and certainly love the baking and the creativity. But a miserable period of carpal tunnel flare-up at the very wrong time (we were saving to buy a house) put a choice in front of me - have the surgery and recuperate and then go back and finish school and get back into the industry again, or cut my losses, remember everything I learned, and go back to my old job (with a raise!) and buy a house sooner rather than later.
I love our house. Maybe I wasn't passionate enough about becoming a pastry chef. Maybe if I had been younger and single with no thought of a house or a ticking biological clock...who knows. They say - and I believe - that things happen for a reason. So here I am - in my delightful house with a terrific kitchen and with my precious little family. No, I would not change a thing.
That's enough for now, though, long-winded as I am, I could probably type until tomorrow.
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