A Relearned Art

I have always been a good multi-tasker. I have always been able to find balance and have exceptional time management skills in order to accomplish everything. The last time I was in grad school, I was taking classes, teaching classes, doing research, working about 30 hours a week, planning my wedding that would take place across the country, and maintaining a house (or sardine can, since we are talking about San Francisco). My planner was color coordinated with assignments, appointments, bills, due dates, meetings, schedules. I had discovered a whole new array of highlighters and type A OCD.

And let's face it, being a mother requires a high level of multi-tasking ability.

In my last job, I had many roles and responsibilities, all of which were possible simply because I could multi-task like no other. However, somewhere along the way, between deadlines and play dates and emails and phone calls and shopping and cleaning...something went awry.

There have been times when I started one task, like folding laundry. Then Isaac would call me into the other room and somehow, I was cooking dinner, folding laundry, typing an email, talking on the phone, paying bills, and fixing a toy and picture frame at the same time. This is a mild example, It only escalated from there.

I would start 17 tasks at once. Oddly (snort) none of them would get done, and then at the end of the day, I would be in stressed out tears because I hadn't accomplished anything and the next day, I had even more to do.

I moved across the country this summer. I quit my job and started my PhD. I'm taking classes again and teaching again. I'm starting research. All things I have done before.

However, this time I have a husband and toddler and a puppy and two cats. Oh, and I MOVED ACROSS THE COUNTRY.

Multi-tasking has taken on new meaning. Somehow my old methods just aren't cutting it.

I realized this when I was trying to download something off a course website, trying to pay a bill, calling to verify an address had been changed, sending an email, and chatting with a friend on Facebook. I wasn't accomplishing anything. I was having issues among the various tasks. And a fellow grad student was listening to my expletives and trying desperately to follow what I was doing. A few times she commented that she had thought I was still working on one of the other tasks rather than the one I was actually working on.

My stress level has been increasing and it was only the first week of school.

I realized that I had to slow down and retrain myself. I could still multi-task, but I needed to finish things. Now, I don't have time to not get my stuff done. I don't have time to have to redo things or bump tasks until the next day, because the next day is already full. I have decided that going back to school is not going to take more away from Isaac than it needs to. That means I need my weekends. I want to leave as much on campus as I can.

So...I have taken a step back. I am starting one task and seeing it all the way through. If I get interrupted and notice distractions or other things that need to get done, I force myself to finish the first task.

It's working very well. I AM GETTING STUFF DONE.It's taking a bit of time. And a llllllooooootttt of retraining and forcing myself to follow through.

Settling

After 9 states, 6 days, and almost 3000 miles, I am happy to report that myself, Isaac, Ben, Layla and Guiliani arrived at our new domicile in Bowling Green, Ohio. OHIO!!!

It's been a crazy week, trying to get settled in, playing my ever favorite game of "Where the EFF did I pack that?!", and setting up a house, not to mention gearing myself up to face my ghosts and enter 4 years of school. So far, so good. The house is shaping up very nicely (I don't think we will buy, another story for another day) and things are getting put away and organized (ahem, THROWN OUT, ahem). We are SETTLING into this new life, one that is so familiar and yet brand new and the same time.

I can't even describe how amazing it feels to be back here. It's so wonderful to be able to plan things with the people we love and not have time constraints. We don't have to cram everything and everyone into one week visits. We are planning our lives in long term. We are surrounded by family and friends, everywhere. The time in California was amazing. I couldn't have asked for better experiences, to meet more amazing and beautiful people, and to be blessed with the opportunities we had. But we are HOME. The time away made us realize how much we do belong here. This is where we need to be at this time in our lives. California is where my soul is, but my heart is here in Ohio. And it always will be. We are not settling for lives we are just okay with, but we have found the place where we want to SETTLE down and put down  new roots while embracing ours.

The ghosts...I am working on. This town, the university...they have this lingering stigma. I drive past places, buildings, roads even...and this wave of sadness, anger, and anxiety punches me in the gut. I'm coping. I am prepping myself for the inevitable: walking past the Marine Lab. But that year, that time in my life, it doesn't own me anymore. I remind myself everytime that I CAN DO THIS. I am not afraid. I am still alive, and I won't let my dream die. I won't SETTLE for anything

Hello, Ohio. It's been awhile. But I am so glad you didn't forget my name. :)

Moving Updates

I am tired. So very tired. Here's why:

I finished up my last day of work last Friday (6/10). I thought I was busy at work. I trained a new person for a few aspects of my position, closed out what projects I could, passed work onto others, etc. I took last weekend off to decompress and gear up for this past week. Isaac and I went to Edition one last time with Aunties K and G (SOB!), ate at Bristol Farms, and walked through Chinatown so I could get more of my plates and buy Isaac toy cable cars.

I spend 2 days online, emailing, on the phone...trying to find a place to live. And I found us a great house that we are renting! It's absolutely perfect for us and it's really close to campus. What's better is we have a lease to buy option, so if we love it as much as I think we will, we will get that in line. Once we get settled, that is. :) Isaac has plenty of space and his own playroom off his bedroom!

I spent the next day getting a lease printed, signed, scanned, emailed and mailed.

I reserved the moving truck. Holy empty bank account, Batman! I got numerous quotes, joined AAA and booked the best deal.

I bought my BIL's ticket to come out and help us move.

I set up utilities and cable at the new house.

I made Dr's appointments for this next week.

I ordered a new keyboard for my laptop.

I ordered Isaac's Cars toddler bed.

I bought an iPad headrest mount for the long journey back east.

I bought another cat carrier, harness, and leash. Yep, that's necessary.

I took 2 cats to the vet to get up to date on their vaccinations, health certificates, and kitty valium.

I set up bank transfers for accounts we have autodeduct from, that don't have branches in Ohio.

I showed our rental here about 200 times. PAIN IN THE REAR. Our landlord is paying us to do it. Otherwise I wouldn't.

I started getting rid of stuff we (READ: I) don't want to move. Making lists of things to sell.

I called daycares to set up appointments for Isaac to come try them out.

I got my VS blood money claim and Medela pump claim filled out and mailed. Locating the receipt for my pump was fun, given the state of my guest room/office.

I mapped out or moving route. Now to call AAA to get my hotels.

Oh yeah, and totally forgot to mail the Father's Day cards I bought 2 weeks ago until Thursday.

I have three to-do lists. I have done returns. I have made purchases. My head hurts.

My logic is that I should drink up my almond champagne because it's one less thing I have to pack and move. I am also cleaning through my cupboards and freezer, which aren't too cluttered after my $10 a week challenge. Nevertheless, we will be having some interesting meals in the next few weeks.

This time next month, I will be a Buckeye again!

Don't Know When I'll Be Back Again

We aren't leaving on a jet plane, per say, but we are leaving. And soon, which is very bittersweet.

It's been FOREVER since I posted. I have been so completely consumed with one task or another relating to the move.

We have sold two cars, paid off one, and purchased a brand new 2011 Equinox. It's a Mommy car, and I LOVE it. Isaac loves it. He has so much space. This is the car I will be driving across the country in the next month or so.

We (READ: I) have started sorting through things (READ: Piles of crap I have accumulated in the 8 years since we have lived in California) and started to give stuff away, sell things, throw stuff away. Seriously, we moved out here with almost nothing. How did we end up with so much stuff?! I also started packing up vestigial stuff we don't need on a day to day basis. Photo frames, magnets, books, CDs, knick knacks etc.

My replacement started at work. I am trying to get her to a good place before I leave. My last day of work is in two weeks, after which I need to put my packing game face on. I will have about one month to find a place for us to live and pack up.

I closed out bank accounts that there is no need to have anymore. Like the one the bank made us open when we got our car loan. It had $5 in it. My old Mary Kay accounts got closed as did my old SARP from Victoria's Secret. It was just a wierd investment account that wasn't making money or losing money. I was going to get hit with fees if I changed anything in the structure so I just closed it. Can we say "Blood Money"? Because that is what it was.

I have started scouting places to live in Ohio. We still don't have an exact location where my husband will be working but have narrowed it down to 2 or 3 towns where we are looking to live. That's all I want to say about that because it makes my blood pressure rise when I think about it.

I also started looking for daycares. We decided that it makes the most sense for Isaac to attend daycare in the town where my university is, in case he gets sick or whatnot. I hate daycare searches.

I started my last time list in California and SF. Pork Store, Cable Car, Muir Woods, Pier 39, etc. All needs visited one last time.

Which got me thinking about saying goodbye. To friends. And I can't think about that. When we left Ohio, I spent about 4 or 5 days crying all day after saying good bye to one person or another. It sucked. I can't do that again. It was too sad. And I am pretty sure it isn't healthy for Isaac to see. I want him to understand that we are doing something great for us, not sad. I mean, it is sad, but I just don't want him to think that something is horribly wrong when Mommy is crying all the time.

I came to the decision that as I see people, I just won't tell them it's the last time I will see them in a while. I can't do that again. I have a little over a month left and I am going to try to see all my friends at least once more. But that might not be possible. Big Sad Panda. :(  There are people out here that it breaks my heart to think about leaving. And we honestly don't know exactly when we will see these people again.

This decision is the best one for us and we are 100% positive of this. We are anxious to get back to family and friends in Ohio. We are excited at what the future holds for us in this next chapter of our lives. I am giddy at the thought of going back to school and back to research. But this next phase, before the move...it's already proving to be a tough one.

Pieces

I have made difficult decisions, big decisions. They never really seemed that way, because they were easy to make. I knew they were right. Things just kind of worked out and fell into place. It made the decisions seem not so big, not so scary.

The move back to Ohio is proving to be no different. It's a huge deal, and more often than not I find myself stressing. Its a big move, a big change, a big expense (to say the least).

Then something happens that reinforces to me that this is the right move for all parties involved.

Today my assistantship offer came in from the university. It is more than I could have ever dreamed it would be, and will make the transition easier and smoother.

It seems as though that when the decision is right, when it puts you on the path that you are meant to be on, the pieces just line up. The hard things aren't hard anymore. The scary things seem foolish.

Have I mentioned how incredibly happy this decision makes our family? Because it truly does. Life will change for us, but it is going to get better. This move, it's huge. But the hard decision, not matter how it seems to others...for us, it was easy. And although the details aren't hammered out, the pieces are landing just how they are meant to fit.

The House of Sick

Last Monday, Isaac starting coughing. Not just little sputters but deep, phlegmy type coughs. We kept him home and quiet on Tuesday, and we went about normal business on Wednesday, which involved daycare for him. I explained that he hadn't been feeling stellar upon dropoff...which was apparently the emerging trend at the center as several kids were out. By 2, I learned he had a low-grade fever, wasn't really eating, and although he was trying to play, just wasn't doing well. I called the pediatrician and got him an appointment for Thursday morning, hoping for the best. Thursday night was spent relaxing on the couch, watching Mickey Mouse.

When I woke him up in the morning to go to the Dr., it was apparent that my baby was sick, sick, sick. He had a fever, and was obviously miserable. He laid on the couch and then slept the entire way to his appointment. The pediatrician sent us away with a prescription for amoxocillin to treat a bacterial infection in his lungs. Clearly, he was not going to daycare any time soon.

It turns out that anytime soon would be a full week. Friday presented worse than the early days, in that Isaac woke up in tears, with a fever, and what I am guessing was a headache and sore throat, and most likely a sore chest from a night of coughing fitfully. He laid on the couch, demanding that I sit next to him without touching him for about 2 hours, crying and moaning before his tylenol and medicine really kicked in. It was horrible. He wanted to cuddle most of the day. The nights were hard, with Isaac not sleeping for more than 2 hours before waking up in a coughing fit. By Sunday, I saw some improvement in him....and some deterioration in my own health.

Inevitably, I caught what my baby had. I was not about to not wipe his running nose with the only material available at the time, which just happened to be my sleeve. I was not about to not cuddle him or hold him because he didn't know how to cover his mouth while coughing or sneezing. It comes with the motherhood territory, therefore; I am not complaining.

I especially was not complaining on Monday while my husband was home and I was able to leave quarantine for a few hours to go to the dentist (hey! try spending 4 days solid in your house and you'd be excited by that as well!) and run a few errands. By the time I got home, I felt like I had been hit by a train, and so did Ben. We loaded up on OTCs and hoped for the best. Tuesday was a good day. Yesterday not so bad, and Isaac went back to daycare.

This morning, I woke up with what I am pretty sure is an ear infection and my doctor can't see me until next week  unless I make an emergency appointment (read: $$$$$$$$$$$) or go to urgent care (read:$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$), and honestly, I am hoping it um...just goes away, since right now it is really just annoying. I know, that's naive. My head feels stuffed full of cotton and my throat is scratchy. Knowing that my baby felt like this absolutely breaks my heart.

All that is keeping me going right now is the thought of mashed potatoes, my bed, and a new Grey's Anatomy tonight. 

A Change has Brewed.

I was born and raised in Ohio. I went to a small high school, where I graduated with 129 other people. I went to college and soon enough learned there was a big world out there, one that I really wanted to explore past the midwest. As college graduation loomed nearer, I started looking at grad programs. To be 100% honest, I had no idea what I wanted to do. I knew I loved science, biology, research. But rather than narrowing down my focus into one specific area, I was just interested in everything (with the exception of microbio...yick!). Everytime I took a different class, I would think it was so cool and wanted to learn more, figure out how to do that science as well. I knew graduate school was the next step, but I was kinda clueless. I got a postcard from USF's program while waiting to hear from some other schools. It drew me in and I applied. It seemed to be a developing Masters program, so I knew I could get involved with alot of different ideas. I got in, and Ben proposed. We moved across the country with a few thousand dollars, an old couch, a bunch of plastic dishes, a few plants, and no idea how much our lives were going change.

I finished my Masters, burnt out from school. Still not having a clear direction, I took promotions and higher salaries for a company that I meant nothing to. My husband thrived in his job, and still does. We settled in to our lives. I changed jobs, and switched into my current position. It was here, in this job, that I really grew up. I found my passions and my direction.

And now, sometime this summer, we will leave California and head back to Ohio. We will leave with hopefully more than a few thousand dollars, a new couch and matching chair, 2 cats, real dishes, no plants, because I killed them, and a beautiful little boy... among other things loaded into a sizably larger moving truck.

We are leaving for several reasons. The biggest being that starting in the fall I will be a PhD student! When I left VS, it was to get back into science and pursue my dream. And now, I know what that dream is, and the steps are being taken.

We want to buy a house. Ands let's face it...that's not possible for us here. Ok, correction: the house we want to buy is not possible here.

Isaac...he THRIVES in Ohio. He's a different kid there. He's surrounded by his family, and I feel like an evil mother everytime we have leave.

I want to make something clear. We are not by any means UNHAPPY in California. We are very happy here...we just know we can be happier there. Are we crazy to give up the stability we have here? Maybe. But we don't think we are (most days...I've had some rather large-scale freakout sessions and Ben is remarkably good at calming me. Good husband :) ).

So this is it, the announcement: I am a PhD student, and we are heading back east. We are 100% committed to this change. I didn't want to say anything until it was concrete. And now it is. :)

10 Years

This week was a rough one. I have struggled with whether or not I wanted to write about it, to even think about it. Now here I sit on Friday, with the week coming to a close, no closer to absolution.

10 years ago, I lost someone. Someone who meant a great deal to me. 10 years ago, my friend Patrick took his own life and sent mine into a spiral. It was 10 years ago. Sometimes that amount of time just doesn't seem possible. It seems like it was just yesterday. I planned a full day on Tuesday. And tried to ignore the other days. 10 years.

I will remember that week forever. I will remember the argument. I will remember the tears, the fear, the emptiness. I will remember the disbelief. All those feelings, so many feelings, most of which I never knew were possible. I remember the anger, so much anger. So many tears. The guilt. Oh. My. God, the GUILT.

So many phone calls. I was mad. That day, all I wanted to do was sleep and cry. And I had to spend it telling people. I will absolutely never, never forget the moment that I had to tell his best friend at school. No one should have to do that. The look on his face. That made me the most angry. I was mad because because of his decision, I had to be the one that hurt his best friend. I know I wasn't the one, but I was the messanger. That was wrong. I was mad.

I remember the long drive to the funeral. I remember how my wonderful friends pulled together for me, and showed me support. I remember turning up my headphones in the back seat and pretending that we weren't driving to a funeral home.

So many explanations. I felt like I needed to have a statement to hand out to everyone. Or at least signs. My friends sheilded me. They ran interference.

After the first viewing, I stayed behind. I stayed so I could have a minute, just me and him. I remember looking down at him, wanting to punch him in the face for the hurt, for the guilt, for the person he made me into in a split second. I wanted to hug him. More than anything, I just wanted to shake him and wake him up.

I remember him. I remember his voice, his eyes, his laugh. I catch glimpses of him in different ways. Sometimes, it just slams into me like a mack truck out of the blue. It leaves me breathless and like I have been suckered punched in the gut.  I see things that I know he would appreciate. It's like an endless black pit. Last night it hit me so hard I had to sit down. I just sat and cried. Isaac crawled into my lap and wiped away a tear with his little hand. He let me cry.

How are you supposed to be after 10 years? What are you still allowed to talk about? What kinds of feelings are acceptable? Where should you be? What's acceptable? It seems so taboo, like you have a timeline for grief. I know people would never tell me that. At the same time, I don't know how healing it is for others to see me broken. It was a ripple effect. My husband for example. I know it makes him uncomfortable for many reasons. Foremost that for 5 minutes 10 years ago, there was someone else in my life that meant something to me. That that person hurt me and that as my husband he can't make it better. Sometimes the silence is better.

10 years later, there are still no answers. Can you ever really get over something when you don't know what it was in the first place? The pain is still there. There is still no absolution. But there has come peace. Acceptance. And resolution that I will not be broken anymore. I am more than that week, than that person he made me into.

10 years later, I still miss Patrick.

OCD

I am a firm believer that everyone has some form of OCD in some way or another. Everyone has little things that absolutely have to be a certain way, or it drives them nuts. I have a few, to say the least.

***I am a chronic handwasher. Seriously. When I am getting ready for work or whatnot in the morning, I wash my hands about 25 times. I can literally FEEL stuff on them. Leftover hair serum. Toothpaste. Eyeshadow. Dust from the cornflakes and cheerios. It's bad. My chronic handwashing leads to very dry hands, and consequently I always have lotion with me. However, if there is too much lotion on  my hands, guess what? Yep, back to the sink.

***I checked that all our doors and windows are locked about 20 million times before I leave the house or go to bed. Not only the actual door is locked, but the screen doors are locked as well (only at nightime). I will check them before I go change into my pjs. Again after. Again after I brush my teeth. Again after I check on Isaac. Sometimes I will even get out of bed to check them again, because I know I had to unlock the doors to check the locks on the screen doors. I know, I am SICK.

***This last one is the kicker. The one that drives even me NUTSO. I don't stress over things or events. Like, big tests, meetings, etc. I know how to prepare for said events, and I do so. But I also know that there is only so much I can do and that stressing over them doesn't help. The KICKER is this: then I stress that I am not stressed out about it. Um, true story. I stress about not being stressed over something. HOW DO I FIX THAT?!

Anyway, hopefully you don't find me certifiable. And hopefuly, my son does not inherit these wonderful, um..."quirks."

Confession

Sometimes, like tonight, when life seems like it completely sucks and is totally unfair, I get Isaac out of his crib and snuggle him while he is asleep. I bring him out o the couch and cuddle him in the crook of my arm like I did when he was a newborn. I do this because absolutely nothing matters in that moment other than my beautiful little boy, sound asleep and peaceful in my arms. All of a sudden, the world just makes sense again. Nothing else heals me like that.

Mommies Can't Get Sick

On Sunday, I got sick. I mean, I got SICK, like fever, sore throat, bad headache. And you know, mommies can't get sick. They can't get sick because the universe becomes seriously unbalanced. The house falls apart. My husband works long hours away from home, so I get that I carry most of the burden. Just saying, I am a CONTROL FREAK. So I kinda pretended like I wasn't sick, which meant I still went about doing my chores, shopping, and such. When Isaac went down for his nap, I took my temperature, and IT WAS NOT PRETTY.

I am always reluctant to stay home from work. Not because of work itself, but because I don't ever get a day off. I mean, unless I take the kiddo to daycare. And that just makes me feel guilty, like I am at home, not making money, and paying for someone else to watch him. Anyhoo, I knew that I had to stay home Monday. I needed to sleep, and Ben would be home for Daddy Daycare. So when he got home on Sunday, I was laying pitifully on the couch, mind you in a CLEAN HOUSE.

"If I stay home from work tomorrow to rest and get better, you will still watch the baby, right?"

"Um...yes."

"Are you sure? Like, it won't be like when I was in the emergency room last year and supped up on painkillers and I had to stay home and rest on Dr's orders and somehow you thought that meant you needed to take a nap and I needed to make dinner while watching the kid?"

".....no...."

And in all fairness, it was not a repeat performance. However, I still felt the need to do chores and such, because again, Mommies can't really get sick. And how do I explain to my 20 month old son that he can't come play with Mommy when she is home?

Which explains another reason Mommies can't get sick.

When Mommy gets sick, Isaac gets sick. Which he did.

It breaks my heart when he is sick, because he just lays there on the couch, on Bunny Buddy, all droopy eyed and quiet. The past two days have been better, no fevers. And today he is back at daycare, and apparently fine.

Sigh. It's been a long week. Because Mommies can't sick. They fall behind, one way or another.

Mish Mash

My delightful co-worker A so delicately pointed out that I haven't blogged in a week. Sorry, over a week. So here, I am stuck with writer's block, big time, throwing together a post of updates, I guess. Let's start with a visual aid. :)

Isaac likes swings again! We discovered a new park, where ducks swim semi-free in an enclosed pond that also contains mutant koi. Whew, the "IHATESWINGSGETMEOUTOFTHISTHINGRIGHTNOWORIWILLSCREAMANDSCREAMANDMAYBEEVENBITEYOU" phase is over, seemingly. And he is so over the little play structures that are age appropriate. He wants to be on the big kid ones. And we, uh...kinda let him. He's an adventurous, fearless little boy. The way this kid climbs, you would like he was part monkey. We follow him and make sure he isn't leaping off things. He pretty much just wants to climb and go down the big slides. He knows to sit down at the top and not lean over the side. He makes it sound as though the climbing is alot of effort because with every single step, we usually get an exertionous grunt (is that a word, hmmmm I hope so). We don't let him go on said structures if there are big kids who actually belong on the big equipment there, and I wouldn't get pissed (assumably) if he injured (knock on wood) himself on them because I let him on there. I TAKE FULL RESPONSIBILITY HERE!

Speaking of the little man (still my baby boy), he has developed an affinity for Lady Gaga and Glee. TRUE STORY. He is partial to "Bad Romance" but he will also sing along to "Telephone." I think it's adorable that he will sing "el-o, el-o bay-be" and I am pretty sure he likes the singing on Glee.

And he counts to 10! He can get to 6 unassisted, and needs a bit of coaxing past 7 and 8, but definately gets the 9, 10. :)

So, the 3 week great stash reduction of 2010...I am happy to say that I have only spent $7.48 of my $10 budget. And to be honest $2.50 was on accident. I am so accustomed to impulse buying, that last weekend at Target, I threw 100-calorie cupcakes into the cart without even thinking about it. I didn't even realize I had bought a grocery until I got home. Anyway, Other than that, I have only bought milk for me and Isaac. I have used several canned goods, two boxes of pasta, and several things from the freezer. We have had fried chicken, spaghetti and meatballs, turkey chili, potato crunch fish, pizza, and mac and cheese. And to be honest, I am not seeing any dent made in the stash. Maybe because it is the first week? Or maybe because I just have THAT MUCH STUFF.

There are several professional opportunities looming on the horizon for me and hubs. Hopefully (fingers crossed, please please PUH-LEASE), something will pan out successfully for one of us, providing us with the opportunity for change. We are feeling a bit stuck right now. Like, that inbetween phase, where you know you have to move forward, but you need that little kick start in that direction.

No more decision has been made on whether or not the IUD is actually coming out in November either. :( Much trepidation though. I think it depends on how the aforementioned pans out.

Tomorrow we are going to the SF Zoo, with a friend and her two kids that I haven't seen in AGES. I haven't seen her son since he was an itty bitty baby, and I have never met her daughter, nor has she met Isaac. I am deliriously excited.

Ok, that is seriously all I have now. I am suffering serious writer's block. Hopefully it will vanish soon. I apologize. :(

Deep Breath

This morning, Isaac and I are leaving for Ohio, for vacation. After a 6 hour direct flight from SFO to DTW, assuming we both make it because let's be honest...that's a long freakin time to try to keep a toddler wrangled into an airplane seat without drugging him or myself, we will spend a week with family, friends, and fainting goats.

Yep, Isaac will be attending his first county fair, complete with fainting goats, elephant ears, sno cones, and that game where you pick up a duck and win a prize. I am sure he will love that game, and we will return to California with about $20 worth of cheapie sunglasses, necklaces, and bouncy balls. He gets to spend hours upon hours being spoiled rotten by his grandparents and uncles, and meeting new friends. He gets to play with Cissy and Norton. He gets to play with his great-grandparents.

I get to see high school friends that I haven't seen in YEARS, see my college roommate's new house, new puppy, and Lady Gaga (that's right, I said it), and eat delicious ice cream from Jeni's with my roommate from Spain. I get to (hopefully) meet my bloggy idol who also hails from the magical midwestern motherland and went to a high school one town over (um...so sorry about those paitned chickens in your hall during senior year homecoming....). And do the above mentioned with Isaac. I am leaving him with my parents and probably boatloads of sugar, and driving to Virginia to see K. This is a total Mommy-vacation. I can't help my babysitters live in Ohio.

And let me tell you, I need the break. I need the mental relief. I paid all the bills due next week. I stocked the fridge with bachelor food and beer for my husband. I busted my butt at work so in theory, I won't hear a word from them the entire week. I NEED THE BREAK. I need to not have a schedule, or look at a clock or calendar and wonder where the hell the day went. In fact, my vacation does not have a calendar. Or a watch. As long as I make it to the airport on time on the following Saturday to catch my return flight, we are golden.

Deep breath....do the question is posed: Do I remember how to relax?

The Price Tag

Over the weekend, I watched the movie "Up In the Air." I had heard good things about this film, and I was anxious to see it. The movie itself was not what I expected, but I enjoyed it. One line stuck out to me and had me thinking the rest of the day.

"How much did they first pay you to give up on your dream?"

This line resonated with me as much as the character that George Clooney said it to. And just like that character, I immediately knew the answer.

They paid me $37,000 a year. Plus benefits. And a sweet discount.

And I didn't think I was giving anything up at the time. I thought I was getting a sweet deal. I had just gotten back from my wedding and honeymoon, and the summer was turning to fall. The thought of beginning a job search to find a job in my field seemed daunting and somewhat pointless. We didn't know where my husband's job was going to lead, and it seemed like the right thing at the time.

Maybe it was, maybe it wasn't. In retrospect, I gave 5 years of my life to a company that didn't give a tiny rat's ass about me as person, as an individual. I made beautiful, wonderful friends there. I got great experience there. But it was clear, from the beginning that I was not following my dream. I was not happy, not truly happy. I gave up a job in a lower paying position in my field that might have been just what I needed. I passed up the opportunity because someone was offering me a flashy price tag.

A few years, I fortunate enough to get an out. The company I worked for started showing their true colors in my mind, and I realized that my dream was not to move forward with this position. I wasn't going to be a store manager, I didn't want to be a corporate person. I didn't want to spend my life or frankly, one more minute that I didn't have to. So began the search for something that would let me follow what I really wanted to do, what I knew in my heart would make me happy.

And you know what? It was HARD. That 5 years made it HARD to get back on the track I wanted to be on. And it was because of that price tag. It was because we were used to that paycheck, and frankly needed that paycheck. Any less would make life harder. And I am not saying that I don't need to pay my dues, because I do. People who think that just because they went to college, they deserve their dream job right away, make me stabby. People that don't think they need to work to acheive what they want. I believe in lucky breaks, sure. But I also believe in hardwork. I am starting a few years later than I should have.

Again, I was fortunate to fins a new job that paid me better and would allow me to get back on track. 3 years later, and I feel like I am finally get a sense of what I truly want, and where I want to be, what I want to do with my life. And it's a struggle. It's not coming easy, especially in today's economy. The competition is fierce and my decisions are not only limited by finances (still) but also by how it will affect my son. I am not willing to compromise his stability or his schedule at this time. That is a personal decision that we made as a family. And it isn't one I am going to retract on.

At this point in my life, I know I live with the choices I made. Of course there are things I would have done differently, money I would have saved, decisions I would have made differently. But ultimately, I know I made the best choice, seemingly at the time. I finally feel like I can getting back to the point that I dreamed of being at, the job I envisioned, the life I wanted.

But that was how much I got paid to give up following my dream. Was it worth that? Nope. You can't put a price on that.

Anxious

On Friday, Isaac will start at his new daycare center. This is the bigger daycare center right down the street from our house. He is going to be going there on Fridays until November, when he will start full time. (The other two days he is playing at Miss C's house, who has him 3 days right now).

Anyway, I am feeling all kinds of anxiety about taking him there. Not really bad, but...anxious. I don't know how to accurately describe it. I filled out the thick packet of paperwork, signing forms, filling out phone numbers, copying vaccination papers. And as I was signing the form that waived liabilty of the center to pay any medical expenses that Isaac may incur while in their care...I got all...anxious. Not that I think that Isaac will incur mass medical expenses and I need to have my proof of medical insurance, etc. But that here I am for the third time in his little life, entrusting my precious baby boy in someone else's care and leaving him there.

This is the third stranger he has to meet. The third new house he has to learn and adapt to. The third new group of kids he has to learn to play with, share with, get along with.

It just seems really unfair, that I am putting him through this again, just when he is getting so happy at Miss C's. I know he is young, and he adapts so easily (so far). He is social and friendly. And I am sure he will be absolutely fine.

I feel like I am being selfish. Like I should have planned better before and while I was pregnant. I should have saved more and payed more bills, so we would be in a better position for me to stay home with Isaac. I should have done something, ANYTHING differently, because I just feel so...anxious about it. Like, maybe I should have agreed to leave him at Miss C's until November and make another clean break for him. Maybe I should have agreed to take him to a different place that was available for full time right now, instead of waiting for this center.

Maybe I should not feel like I need my job in my life, like I need that part of my old life in my new life as mom. The truth is, 9 days out of 10, I relish the 8 hours I am at work and doing what I am good at. I like having this bit of my life that doesn't really revolve around me being a mommy. That makes me feel guilty. I don't like feeling that way.

Despite how I feel today or tomorrow, inevitably, on Friday morning, I will pack up his diapers, wipes, extra clothes, extra medicines, blankie and cup, and drop my son off at his third daycare. His third daycare in 19 months.

Facebook Lost and Found

I think everyone goes through a Love/Hate relationship with the ever popular Facebook. Many moons ago, I, myself was reluctant to join. I mean, I had MySpace. What more could I want? Sure, everyone has there annoyances with the long game feeds that you find completely irrelevant and a waste of time (Filters, people!) and minute by minute updates streaming with twitter feeds.

Personally, I probably spend way to much time farming (mmmhmmm, that's right! I FARM and I AM NOT ASHAMED), and looking through photos posted by friends or acquaintances of their children that I will most likely never meet, or places they've been, houses they are remodeling. There are people in my friend list that I have spoken with since graduation from high school in a small midwestern town where nothing changes and people are content with the quieter side of life. There are people on there whose pages I haven't visited in months, but will occassionally stop by to see what's been happening.

Anyway, the one aspect of this social media wave that I LOVE is it's ability to give the opportunity to reconnect with people you have lost touch with by however means. Let me tell you a story.

In college I had a fair amount of friends, but there were those that I was really close to. One girl, L, was one of the best friends I could have imagined having. I went through a really rough time in college, starting in my sophomore year. She had my back and she watched out for me. She did things for me without me asking, anticipating what I would need. We laughed together, cried together. We told each other everything, even stuff we knew the other wouldn't like. One of my favorite times of the day was eating dinner together and talking about nothing and everything.

And then, the last semester before I graduated, everything changed. It wasn't even really the whole semester, maybe the last month. It was petty and immature. So much in part, that I can't even remember WHY things went sour. But they did. I left my undergrad experience in Ohio and moved to California. And I walked away from a friendship I held so dear.

It was hard. I mean, I was hurt and mad (again, for petty reasons). But there was definately a hole where that friendship had been. I was planning a wedding, and I was doing it without included her, and it SUCKED. After a few years, what could I do? Phone numbers changed, as did addresses. I thought about her many times throughout the years, and wondered where life had taken her.

And then, about 7 years later, I saw her on a friend's page. I mulled it over for many weeks, and finally realized...Apologies don't have expiration dates. I couldn't even remebered why I was mad, or had been mad. I wasn't mad anymore, nor had I been for a long time. If anything, I was ashamed of my childish behavior and for holding such an insignificant grudge for so long. I was sorry for my behavior and most of all, for treating another person so badly. I couldn't have made 100000's of excuses, but I didn't want to. The bottom line was, no matter what had happened in my life, was not an excuse for hurting someone else. My hurt didn't give me justification to hurt people in return. I typed long messages, short messages, deleting one after another because nothing sounded right. And finally, I hit send and waited. I got a message back, and soon emails were exchanged.

The other day, I got to talk to her on the phone. And it was like nothing had changed. We were the same girls sitting on ugly furniture in the college lounge, but instead of talking about classes, weekend plans, clothes and celebrity gossip, we were talking about jobs, husbands, and families. I don't think I fully realized how much I had missed her in my life, until she was back in it.

And I have Facebook to thank! True story. So this social media outlet...it's not all bad. :)

Catching Up

Life has been so busy lately. My mom was just here, so I had time off work. Isaac is a different person every single day, changing so much. I am just running to keep up with him. I have mountains of mail and bills to go through, an almost full memory card to empty and thousands (literally) of photos to go thru (this is what happens when you start using a fancy smancy camera).

I am playing catch up for the next few days. But I am still here. :) Still reading. :)

Right Now

I heard that old Va.n Hal.en song the other day. You know, the one from the Pepsi commercial way back when? Right now! And it kinda got me thinking.

Anyway, I am a planner. I like to plan. I plan out the future over and over again. As much as it irritates me when wrenches get thrown in my plans, I secretly like it. I think it's a disease, like washing your hands too much (which I also think I do). Sometimes I do so much planning, I don't enjoy the right now. I catch myself doing it, getting all worked up about something that might happen, hasn't happened, or such.

I used to thrive on drama. Seriously. I think I would look for it. I didn't know how to live without drama because for a while, well yeah...things were dramatic. I didn't know how to be me, a me without the drama. And finally, my head hurt too much. It hurt from all the drama that I fully believe I was attracting into my life. Law of attraction, you know. I decided that drama was preventing me from living in the right now. I decided that that wasn't what anyone needed anymore.

Anyway, I am a firm believer that you allow your life happens as you let it. At least, you choose how you react to things. I think planning helped me try to avoid more drama. Like, I could plan so much that nothing could go wrong. Then it would, and I could plan some more. It was a vicious cycle that I have felt stuck in for while.

I don't want to miss out on what is happening right now. Drama prevents me from doing that. Being unhappy prevents me from doing that. Planning too much for things that don't ever end up happening prevent me from doing that. I am a firm believer in that only you can change your life. Only you can make it what you want it to be.

I want to live more in the right now.

Especially because my son's life is racing past me and he is getting bigger and bigger. He changes so much everyday. If I don't slow down, if I don't live more in this moment, I am going to miss too much.

Paranoia

I am a paranoid person. Not about everything, but there are somethings that I am really really REALLY freaked out about happening to me or my family. Just thinking about them makes me sweaty and I can feel my blood pressure and anxiety levels rise.

Awhile ago I had a dream that someone was trying to take my baby. I spent the whole dream running away from them. I haven't been able to shake it. Do I think someone is going to take Isaac? God, I hope not. Do I feel like he is unsafe at daycare? No. Do I stand a little bit closer to him in the park and such? Yep. When I see a car like the one in my dream, does my pulse pick up a bit? Yep.

But that really isn't what this post is about, the dream I had. It's about my paranoia. I know exactly where it comes from. But I don't know how to make it go away.

When I was 15 years old, my birth father committed suicide. I won't hash the details here because I have talked about it before. But yeah, it sucked. After that, I really wasn't too paranoid. Then when I was 20, one of my best friends who I kinda not really dated for like a month told me that he couldn't live without me and killed himself. And that REALLY sucked.

And that....yeah, I think the paranoia comes from that.

Actually, I know it does. That was the kicker.

I am not paranoid that everyone I know is going to commit suicide.

But I am terrified of losing people. I hate that feeling when someone you care about is gone from your life. I know, no one likes it. But that's my paranoia. When my husband doesn't answer his phone, sometimes my mind goes to dark places. I would say 7 times out of 10 I realize that he is busy. If he is out of town, I realize that he is most likely drunk (Sorry, but true story) or asleep. The other 3 times, I am convinced he is dead and or missing and I call again and again and again. He knows that when that happens, I am freaking out and he picks up and says "I'm fine, I'm busy." (When I was preggers, he answered almost everytime I called just because I made him. Seriously, I could have been in labor. Or needed chili cheese fries or a sundae).

And because of that, this kidnapping dream has me freaked about losing Isaac. I go in his room a few more times a night to check on him. When I hear a loud bump in his room, I go in there, still realizing that it was him rolling over and hitting the wall, but still to check. My baby means everything to me.

I know it is normal for parents to worry about their children. And I can't think of one parent who wouldn't be absolutely devastated if soemthign happened to their kids. Worry is normal. It's healthy. Apprecriation for what you have, also healthy.

What I have....not so healthy. I have more than the normal level of worry.

How do I fix it? I don't want it to get worse. I don't want to be that crazy mom who won't let her son do anything because she is terrified of losing him somehow.

Mama

"...I traded eyeliner for dark circles, salon haircuts for ponytails, designer jeans for sweatpants, long showers for hairy legs, late nights at the clubs for early mornings, designer purses for diaper bags...and I wouldn't trade a thing back. "

No one will ever tell you that being a mother is easy, because it isn't. Sure parts of the job are easier than others...I mean how can a big bear hug possibly be difficult? Nothing really prepares you for the changes to come and oh how quickly they do.

The other day I was thinking of how my weekends have changed. No longer are they filled with shopping trips to the City, movies, sleeping in until 11, long bubble baths, and overall laziness. Not as many parties and having dinner and drinks with friends. Now, our weekends consist of baby showers, fundraisers, shopping trips for diapers and errands, DVRed shows from 3 weeks ago, short showers (if I am lucky and time it right it turns into a longer one!) and sleeping in is now considered 730. I can't tell you the last movie I saw in a theater that didn't involve weeks of planning.

My clothes are all stained and smell like baby-something..food, vomit, milk, spit, and I am lucky if they fit as every single body part is different now. I don't remember the last time I had a pedicure. I rarely get hair cuts, and when I do it has to remain long enough to put in a ponytail.

But I love it. I truly do. It's hard. And I get frustrated. Somedays I look at my life and think "I can't believe this is my life" wanting to tear my hair out. But most days, I look at my life and think "I can't believe this is my life" with a smile.

Especially days like this:

I had a wonderful 2nd Mother's Day, just me and Isaac. It rained and kept us from going to the park as planned. But we played. We sang "Isaac Lahman has a farm" and he say "E I E I." And the best parts of the day were when he laid his head on my shoulder and said "awwww Mama."

I am alot of things to alot of people. I have alot of titles, alot of names. But Mama, and all it comes with, is definately the best one. :)