Tuesday, February 26, 2008

Why does L hate us?

I was never under the impression that life would be filled with nights full of luxuries, like sleep, but I'm not sure I was prepared for stomping through life with 4 hrs of sleep in the tank. These 4 - 6 hours are filled with interruptions - not only from the babe but the dog too! I can't complain too much because it seems the more exhausted I get the less I actually wake up to the distractions. Last night apparently the baby slept okay but the dog was up half the night. She isn't feel well. As the story goes, she was up crying and whimpering whenever the baby was not. Poor C, because if I am not witnessing this mess- it means it is being told to me by C. He was up binking the baby and letting the dog out to get the poison out.

I still have to wake up at 5 am to feed her every morning. The J of yore wouldn't see 5 am unless on those rare occasions where I was still up from the night before. And even then 5 am wasn't pretty and it was probably something that should have been avoided. I don't like 5 am: never have and never will. Why does she hate us? Haven't we been good to her?

Wednesday, February 20, 2008

Dissatsified Customer



Dear God,

I'm writing to you in regards to my recent experience with one of your representatives. I'm sure you know this, seeing as you are all knowing, however I felt it important to document my dissatisfaction with my experience.

I have been a customer of yours for 28 years. While not always a consistent patron, I am in the business to be a repeat customer for the foreseeable future or until my youngest completes his or her confirmation. From there, you'll be sure to hear from me upon the announcement of engagement by one of my children. At that time, I will act like a faithful client as if I never left. I keep in touch though, so it's not like you never hear from me. I call, I visit- more than most! I would think, based on recent news coverage that does not bode favorable for your business, the least I could receive is an experience that feels somewhat cooperative. Instead I have gone through nothing short of constant hoop jumping.

I won't rehash all the drama we had to go through to find a church to marry us- the letters, the phone calls, the classes. We found a good church, even though the only reason we got in was due to nepotism. Maybe I would understand if we weren't returning to the very same establishment or if years had passed and new priests had come to town. I don't understand, because for Your sake, it's been a year!!!! We want to have L christened at the same church we were married in. The same Priest is there- how is it we have to once again produce letters that state we are Catholic and can have our daughter baptised in a church. It's a year later. What kind of horrible Catholic could we have become in one short year???

Now here is where my current compliant comes in. After all the hoopla to get the stamp of approval to have L baptised in NY, to avoid the pilgrimage to Boston from our family, we have fulfilled all that we were told we needed to. Several calls where made to check and double check dates, times and permission slips needed. Everything that was necessary was sent with a letter asking for a confirmation call to let me know that I was given clearance for the blessed event. I received no such call. When I called to make sure that everything was good to go, I received contradictory information, from the same person that I have spoken to several times previously- that married us, for Your sake. After a confusing and high levels of frustration- we got the final confirmation that L can come on the originally agreed upon date. Before he hangs up, he informs me that the God Parents need letters too. What's with all the letters? Honestly. Even after all the calls and all the questions- what else will we need? Now he decides they need letters too, and when I tried to explain they were God Parents already- they've been cleared for G'Parenting. Nope, no good, no dice- letters are still needed "just to confirm they are still good Catholics."

I sat there and listened to this ridiculousness and the continued run around and I smiled. I wanted to be sarcastic and give him a piece of my mind, I did less paperwork to get into college! It's all I could do was to ask him to speak with his manager. Instead I decided to contact his Superior, which is what brings this letter to you. It's over, letters are being put together and the christening will likely take place with out a hitch. Change your policies, big man. We want to be part of your club, but do you have to make it so hard and convoluted? Help a girl out.

Many Thanks,
You know who.

Paranoia: Another UNKNOWN Side Effect of Motherhood

I have always had a hint of paranoia in me. In April when we moved to our humble abode, I think it hit all time highs. I blamed the pregnancy, but it might just be me now.

As the story goes...

We were moving to our current apartment and as I had done so many times before I hired people off of craigslist. It turns out they bailed and I had to go last minute backups and we had some scary mutherf'ers assisting with the move. When I went to go pick them up this little bitty voice told me it was more than likely possible we were going to be robbed. I got a sinking feeling that they were going to car jack me or steal my rings. What to do?

In middle conversation I went with the ring contingency plan. It's a plan I've always had but never actually did. But the little voice screamed, "Plan b, execute execute!!" so execute I did. I took the rings, off my finger and slid them into the side of my mouth. If push came to shove, I'd swallow the rings. Judge all you want, but at least then I'd know where they are. I wouldn't be able to find this bling at the local pawn shops, but surely the doctors could find what they were looking for.

There are other contingency plans I've come up with- like when walking along a bridge I have been near-mugged on calling a friend and saying "I'm walking over Prison Point Bridge. If I call back but don't talk, I'm being mugged. Call the police." Or when driving in another car (same moving day as the ring bit) having Chris follow me- if he sniffed out any problems just to hit the car and make us pull over, no matter what.

Last night I came home and it turns out Cat has set up an appointment with someone to come over and fix her computer. Despite all the times we've said to check with us before inviting friends over, etc- apparently complete and total strangers don't apply to the rule of people you might want to get the OK about before letting them in the door. I mean, come on. C wasn't going to be home, so my head goes immediately to being pillaged... contingency plan time. I call C and let him know of the impending assault. The plan is, despite the fact he is out with his managers, to keep the phone on the table. If I call back and I am not talking- hang up immediately and call 911. So there I sat, with my hand under a blanket, with C's phone number up and ready to go- with my finger on the button, ready to go.

Luckily the guy that came, I could have taken. I'm hoping that by now knowing that I come up with contingency plans in case of violence or fear of being on the nightly news- maybe now the 'no strangers or randoms' with out talking to us has sunk in. I'm not entirely sure, but something tells me there will more contingency plans to come.

Monday, February 18, 2008

Attack of the Baby

While sitting on the couch trying to take a pic of her fo'hawk I was attacked by the cutest little baby I ever did see. If it isn't nailed down, she's putting it in her mouth. Let the teething begin!

Sunday, February 17, 2008

Bar Hopping: The Next Generation

There was a time, not so long ago, that we would take a weekend afternoon and go out and about. These days out would turn into an impromptu bar crawl. It's been quite awhile since we've done that. I thought those days were long behind us, never to return, until Saturday.

We spent the afternoon visiting. We had some friends visit in the morning, the MacGuires. They got to hang with L, brought the freaking cutest monkey stuffed animal and had some lunch. (Side note: I've become a stuffed animal freak. When did that happen? A grown woman be more excited about cuddly creatures than the kid? It's wrong. I know it is, but I can't help it.) Then the Raymonds came from the far far away land of Nueva York. A sight we didn't know we would see. We quickly learned that our apartment, as fun as it is, is nowhere near close to being ready for a mobile child. With in 4 minutes he was climbing our bookcases like an indoor rock climbing wall.

While we had all the right intentions, errands to run, things to do- instead we decided to go for a walk. A walk turned into stopping into a new place we found to sneak out of the cold, which turned into a drink, which turned into a bar crawl. With a baby.

We needed to take a break from the cold, and when we did, why not warm up with a drink? A little appetizer? A drink, turns into many, and L couldn't have been having more fun. As we made our way home, we rinse and repeated. The girl likes to bar hop, are you surprised? Who said everything has to change once you have a baby? Life just needs to be altered a smidge.

Monday, February 11, 2008

Pop Quiz

What's worse than a hangover?
  • Having a blow out in a restaurant, on the road, without the proper supplies.
  • Continuing to have events in NY when we live in MA.
  • Not having direct access to heat control, thus burning up from the inside out with no hope of relief.
  • Eating in a sheik fancy pants restaurant with unce unce music blaring and see through bathrooms. You could see out and believe that no one could see in. Terrifying.
  • A hang over. With a 4 month old, pulling your hair, hitting you and unable to take anything to stop the pain.

Tuesday, February 5, 2008

The Panic Room

There is a panic room on the 8th floor of my building. Some call it the pump room, me I just panic in it. I sit there and freak from the moment I walk up to the door. The newest complication is the wall directly across from the entrance to hell. It has been cut open so that you can see for as long as the eye can see, people. This means they can see you- walking in to do your business. Beyond that, at the right angle, I'm fairly certain they'll catch a glimpse of the goods if the stars align "properly". And what are the bets out there that at some point the stars are going to align? That being said, since a large group of strangers saw my arse not too long ago, I'm hoping to maintain some level of modesty. Is that too much to ask? For strangers not to see me topless? And you know what- if I was just naked that'd be one thing, it would be horrible. But to kick it up a notch, I'm attached to a humiliating machine like a cow on the farm. Seriously, if I haven't said it before- let it be known. The cow is a good animal. We don't thank them enough. It's a tough life. If they aren't being fattened to find themselves on my plate they are being juiced. It isn't pretty.

On Monday there was stranger danger in the panic room. I was in there doing my business- when in strolled (literally strolled- took her sweet ass time) a stranger. Sat down, practically on my lap, and whipped 'em out Monday. Is it too much to ask to:
(a) not take your sweet ass time to come in
(b) If you have to come in, can you not look at me and chat
(c) and if you are... can you introduce yourself? I typically like to know the first names of those getting a visual first base.

Ever since then I put off going to that god forsaken room... and you know who suffers? My poor bambina... so tomorrow for her- I'll suck it up and run the risk of having a demented Mardi Gras moment. Until then I'll just get prepped for that story- cause it's going to be a doozy.

Sunday, February 3, 2008

W. Sesame Street

Our neighbors have a lot of character, to say the least. It's like the dark side of Sesame Street.  City living may not be what it is cracked up to be. Crack being the operative word. In our new neighborhood we have gangsters to the right and yuppies to our left. It's an interesting experience to say the least.

Daily there is some strange occurrences that makes us sing the song in our head...
"Oh, who are the people in your neighborhood? In your neighborhood? In your neighborhood? Say, who are the people in your neighborhood? The people that you meet each day."
In OUR neighborhood we have run into the following characters you better believe you would NOT see on Sesame Street. And over the last two days, we've been able to see them all.  Why so many sightings? We've taken L, Abelle and Winston to the dog park. Winston is Abelle's boyfriend. We dog sit him from time to time, and love to have playmate for the 'belle. They wrestle, chase each other, follow us around- wherever we go, there they are. It's a good time. Since it's been super nice out, we took them out to the fenced in park. I should mention, Winston could qualify as a horse due to size and strength.

At the park, we were on penis patrol- because if Winston has the case of the humps with the wrong bitch, we might have some problemos. Today he had the hots for a young thang, which cut our visit short but over all - they both did great, ran until they couldn't run no more- then it was off to go home. Which is where we saw a cast of characters, one after the other.

Three Legged Lassie. Self explanatory- Lassie with three legs. You can't help but stare.

The Giant. There is a legitimate giant that rides the streets of the South End in a bicycle with a basket with window washing equipment. We aren't sure if he gets paid to do this, or just goes around from store front to store front with this eyeliner and window washing supplies and gets the job done.

Thai Chi. A dyslexic woman of sorts. As she performs her Thai Chi throughout the streets of the South End she does so muttering to herself and walking backwards. Stopping at corner to look both ways, but then continuing on her journey. Backwards.

The Hunchback of the South End. Just as self explanatory as the Three Legged Lassie, but twice as crazy.

Finally as we walked home we saw our favorite- it was a full day and had sightings of all that our neighborhood has to offer but with out her, we have nothing. Change is a toothless, and potentially tongueless, crack head woman who aggressively searches for change. She will jump in front of moving cars, block you while you stop at the corner or charge you down until you give her what she is looking for... change. As she nearly tackles you to the ground she asks over and over again is, you guessed it... "Change? Change?" Due to the absence of teeth and potentially her tongue- what it sounds like is "Shange? Shange?"
"Oh, who are the people in your neighborhood? In your neighborhood? In your neighborhood? Say, who are the people in your neighborhood? The people that you meet each day!"

Friday, February 1, 2008

Parking in Another Town: $160... Headache Relief: $ .22... First Week Back: Priceless

This was my first week back to work. Oh boy was it interesting. In terms of the usual questions and answers you are looking for:
  • I'm doing fine.
  • No, I didn't cry.
  • Yes, that surprised me too.
  • L is doing great.
  • No, she doesn't notice I'm gone.
  • Yes, she does smile when she sees me, when I get home.
  • Unfortunately, she'd smile if I walked in and out of the room. She'd smile if YOU walked in and out of the room. That's what she does. She smiles.
  • Really, I'm fine.
Here are a few highlights:
  • Even though I was told I would have a parking spot by December... I do not. Instead, I leave the house each morning with a pit in my stomach. I have to hunt for a spot each morning and hope for the best. Most of the time I follow random people to their car, like it's the holidays at the mall and hope there isn't someone else lurking and waiting for an illegal spot all their own. This means I am either following random people, and they aren't even going to a car and that's just weird OR I am finding an illegal parking spot outside the building so I could get ticketed or towed. I am told this is rare, if at ever- but if you know me the odds are not on my side. They did work out to give me a spot not in the building but "across the street" at the hotel near work. Truth is, it turns out the spot is ACTUALLY at the freaking mall. If you don't know what that means, let's just say it isn't close and my thoughts are 'Thanks... why not give me a parking spot in the flippin North End.' That being said, the promises were made by staff of yore and my girl who has to endure my complaints, pleas and sarcastic wit is doing all she can. Yadda yadda. I can still complain. It's my jam.
  • I hate being censored.
  • There is someone that charges 22 cents an Advil pill - so bring your own. There are several things I don't understand about this. They include: why 22? Why not 25? And while you want to cover the cost of the pills, why not go for a slight profit- a convenience charge? And finally, there are free pills in the first aid kits on every floor. Free.
  • I am sitting in the larger area team room. I'm getting to know those around me, making new friends, keeping the old, one is silver and the others gold- but the quiet folk around me are not loving it as much as one might think. It used to be the quiet side. This means everything I say, it can be heard.
  • I hate being censored. It's clearly not one of my strengths.
  • The pump room gives me agita. What is pump room etiquette? Someone is in there- do you stay? Do you go? Do you make small talk? Going in there makes me nervous- more nervous than leaving the baby. Being in there makes me nervous. I hate going topless. Always have, always will. I know I should feel lucky that I have a room to go to. Apparently before this the only option was the handicap stall or your car (if you had a parking spot in the building). So it could be worse, I could be trekking over to the mall to get the job done, or sitting with a battery pack and my pump back pack.
The truth is, it's great to be back. I'll figure out where to park, who to get affordable pills from, how to keep the volume down and what to do with the masses of lactating co-workers I have and how to interact with them.


(on move news... I got nothing and I'm not moving this blog unless I'm loving our new home, so I'll keep you posted. Sorry for jumping the gun on that... you all know how much I love to move but the next move is for keeps, much like this address. I'm thinking too much about it and until I can make a decision I'm not budging.)
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