The mystery of my health prevails. I was still having some symptoms up until yesterday. But today I seem to be back to my normal self. Just in time for our next big adventure.
The cat.
My dear, sweet, terminally ill cat.
Who always lives inside and yet somehow contracted heartworms. Maybe. Or maybe she just developed the antibodies and the worms never got a chance to reproduce. The story goes that she has antibodies and the vet insists that we have to have the aforementioned feline cardiac ultrasound to confirm or deny that she has heartworms. (But if she has them, there's nothing we can do about it. So, what's the point of the ultrasound?)
Which leads me to my next big mystery. How our cat, who always stays inside and never is in contact with other animals, managed to contract LICE while we were away for a month to Brazil. She's in the house, with no other animals, and has someone coming to check on her each day. When we come home, there are clumps of cat fur and little, tiny, grain-of-salt-looking white balls on every horizontal surface. We noticed yesterday that if you give it a day, you also get some black stuff. And that the black stuff moves.
FUUUUUUCCCCCCCCCCKKKKKKKKKKK.
I've never had to deal with lice, whether the human or cat variety, before. Stella's birthday party is tomorrow afternoon. Children are coming to my house. And we can assume that there are little tiny bugs on every single textile in the house.
Let the de-lousing begin. Every bed, every couch, every sheet, every rug, every carpet, every surface, ugh. At least the house will be spanking clean for the party tomorrow, right?
Can someone out there please tell me whether I have to shampoo the cat? Because everything I've read seems to indicate that I do.
One of you out there will say, why don't you just take the cat to the vet and ask your questions there? Mostly because our vet costs a fortune. We take her there because she freaks out around other animals and this vet only treats cats. So we accept that it will be about $100 to walk in the door. But here's the ironic part: the only place I can think that the cat has been in contact with other animals in the last 2-3 months was at the vet's office! I wanna call them and tell them they need to pay for all my delousing paraphernalia plus give me our next visit free.
I think I'm never taking my cat to the vet again. All they do is tell me she's getting more ill and that I need to have really expensive tests done that we can't afford. And the trip to the office makes her freak out and that makes the heart condition worse. And now, she seems to have contracted lice at the office. What is the point?
Grace has to vacuum her room, sort all the laundry and then fold the clean laundry when it comes out of the dryer. Stella has to steer clear of lousy areas of the house. I have to go to the pet store and get lots of shampoo and powder and anything else I need to deal with this issue. And then keep sweeping, vacuuming, laundering, bleaching, and on and on. As for coping with this, I need to keep my head firmly attached to my shoulders. And I will visit my therapist this afternoon.
Showing posts with label Money Matters. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Money Matters. Show all posts
Thursday, August 5, 2010
Wednesday, October 14, 2009
Update on simple sugars
I just opened my laptop for the morning to check email and facebook. Within five minutes, two glaringly obvious news stories came across the screen and seemed to be screaming at me. Since I'm working away from the simple carbs and sugars, get a load of this:
Found at Yahoo, The Tragedy of Krispy Kreme - all about how the popular doughnut chain rose in financial success and then crashed just as quickly.
Published at NPR's website and broadcast this morning on Morning Edition, Soda Tax Could Shake Up Industry - all about how sugary sodas create havoc for a person's health because of the huge doses of sugar and contributing to obesity.
Now I feel really guilty and lazy just giving in to this weakness. I'm going to have to break this fix. Today, wheat toast with a side of strawberries and bananas instead of cinnamon toast.
I thank you in advance for your support in this trying time.
***UPDATE AS OF 11:15 AM***
And then the first lady gives this address about eating more vegetables and limiting the take out fast food:
What is it, a mass healthy-lifestyle conspiracy against me?
*****UPDATE AS OF 12:45 PM*****
My husband kindly left an article in my path for me to peruse today:
That's right. "20 Things You Didn't Know About Sugar." Found on the last page of this month's Discover magazine.
When I first looked at the article, #7 jumped out at me: "Can you imagine eating 16 sugar cubes at one sitting? You probably have. That's a little less than what is contained in a 20-ounce bottle of cola." The irony of the rhetorical question at the start is that I think it's intended to evoke to immediate answer "no," followed by the revelation that drinking a bottle of cola is the equivalent of doing so; in my case, I probably have literally eaten 16 sugar cubes at one sitting. And it sounded really tempting as I read it.
My husband has no idea about any of my postings on the topic of my diet. So much for my belief that no one else is noticing my lack of propriety in my dining selections.
Found at Yahoo, The Tragedy of Krispy Kreme - all about how the popular doughnut chain rose in financial success and then crashed just as quickly.
Published at NPR's website and broadcast this morning on Morning Edition, Soda Tax Could Shake Up Industry - all about how sugary sodas create havoc for a person's health because of the huge doses of sugar and contributing to obesity.
Now I feel really guilty and lazy just giving in to this weakness. I'm going to have to break this fix. Today, wheat toast with a side of strawberries and bananas instead of cinnamon toast.
I thank you in advance for your support in this trying time.
***UPDATE AS OF 11:15 AM***
And then the first lady gives this address about eating more vegetables and limiting the take out fast food:
What is it, a mass healthy-lifestyle conspiracy against me?
*****UPDATE AS OF 12:45 PM*****
My husband kindly left an article in my path for me to peruse today:
That's right. "20 Things You Didn't Know About Sugar." Found on the last page of this month's Discover magazine.
When I first looked at the article, #7 jumped out at me: "Can you imagine eating 16 sugar cubes at one sitting? You probably have. That's a little less than what is contained in a 20-ounce bottle of cola." The irony of the rhetorical question at the start is that I think it's intended to evoke to immediate answer "no," followed by the revelation that drinking a bottle of cola is the equivalent of doing so; in my case, I probably have literally eaten 16 sugar cubes at one sitting. And it sounded really tempting as I read it.
My husband has no idea about any of my postings on the topic of my diet. So much for my belief that no one else is noticing my lack of propriety in my dining selections.
Friday, October 2, 2009
One more time, because it's a message that matters
This is the third time I've posted this video to my blog. The first two times were in December 2008 and in January of this year. The video is put out by The Girl Effect. Indeed, I put it up now, for a third time, because it really is that good.
Yesterday I got a notice on my Facebook newsfeed that Oprah Winfrey was going to mention The Girl Effect on her show that afternoon. I tuned in and, sure enough, her whole show was dedicated to real ways that each one of us can change a woman's life in a developing country. She even included a page on her site that gives direct links to numerous organizations and specific ways you can help another woman. There's also a newly released book, Half The Sky, that inspired the show Oprah put on yesterday. I'm ordering a copy today for our home and making sure Grace gets to read it.
I haven't been contacted my anyone to endorse this cause in any way. For all I know, none of these organizations even knows I exist. I am so persistent in mentioning this cause because I'm being hit smack on the head by something so important, so obvious, that I have to pay attention to. Our world is plagued by so many ills that could be solved. None of them can be solved until women around the world are no longer marginalized. How can I as a woman ignore that? I am among the most privileged group of women to have ever walked the earth; how can I ignore that most of the women on the planet do not have this measure of privilege?
There is a woman in Brazil who I think of every day. Take that back, she's not a woman, she's a girl. She is fifteen years old, the same age as my older daughter. I've never met her; I don't even know her name. But I hear about her a lot and I worry about her. She has lived in poverty her entire life. Years ago, her two older brothers stopped their education in order to work and try to make money for their family. This girl has also stopped going to school; she gave birth to her first child, a girl, the same week that Stella was born. The baby's father is in his twenties and long since gone. This fifteen year old girl is raising her baby alone. One girl the same age as my oldest daughter giving birth to another daughter the same age as my younger daughter. I wish I could take both of the girls in my arms and hold them. I wish I could make their life as good as the one my two girls have had. Instead, I think of them. Each month their family gets $100 from more fortunate people, generous people; it doesn't go far, but it gives them some of the necessities that they would otherwise do without. In the absence of anything else I can do for them, I hope that the money helps their situation get better.
That's my touchstone, the one I use to remember that every girl matters. A lot. I need to remember that I am rich, I experience the most lavish life that this planet can offer. Here in the industrialized world, the first world, we've spent the last two years navel gazing and believing that the sky is falling because we are experiencing economic downturn. Imagine a different world though, one where all the luxuries we have let go of never existed in the first place. They are impossible dreams. Just the privilege of going to school is not something you as a woman are allowing to do.
Today, today let's make a difference.
Yesterday I got a notice on my Facebook newsfeed that Oprah Winfrey was going to mention The Girl Effect on her show that afternoon. I tuned in and, sure enough, her whole show was dedicated to real ways that each one of us can change a woman's life in a developing country. She even included a page on her site that gives direct links to numerous organizations and specific ways you can help another woman. There's also a newly released book, Half The Sky, that inspired the show Oprah put on yesterday. I'm ordering a copy today for our home and making sure Grace gets to read it.
I haven't been contacted my anyone to endorse this cause in any way. For all I know, none of these organizations even knows I exist. I am so persistent in mentioning this cause because I'm being hit smack on the head by something so important, so obvious, that I have to pay attention to. Our world is plagued by so many ills that could be solved. None of them can be solved until women around the world are no longer marginalized. How can I as a woman ignore that? I am among the most privileged group of women to have ever walked the earth; how can I ignore that most of the women on the planet do not have this measure of privilege?
There is a woman in Brazil who I think of every day. Take that back, she's not a woman, she's a girl. She is fifteen years old, the same age as my older daughter. I've never met her; I don't even know her name. But I hear about her a lot and I worry about her. She has lived in poverty her entire life. Years ago, her two older brothers stopped their education in order to work and try to make money for their family. This girl has also stopped going to school; she gave birth to her first child, a girl, the same week that Stella was born. The baby's father is in his twenties and long since gone. This fifteen year old girl is raising her baby alone. One girl the same age as my oldest daughter giving birth to another daughter the same age as my younger daughter. I wish I could take both of the girls in my arms and hold them. I wish I could make their life as good as the one my two girls have had. Instead, I think of them. Each month their family gets $100 from more fortunate people, generous people; it doesn't go far, but it gives them some of the necessities that they would otherwise do without. In the absence of anything else I can do for them, I hope that the money helps their situation get better.
That's my touchstone, the one I use to remember that every girl matters. A lot. I need to remember that I am rich, I experience the most lavish life that this planet can offer. Here in the industrialized world, the first world, we've spent the last two years navel gazing and believing that the sky is falling because we are experiencing economic downturn. Imagine a different world though, one where all the luxuries we have let go of never existed in the first place. They are impossible dreams. Just the privilege of going to school is not something you as a woman are allowing to do.
Today, today let's make a difference.
Monday, September 14, 2009
Abercrombie goes for the kids
OK, first off, I say up front that by posting this I may indeed be branding myself as too cynical of a middle-aged mom. That being said...
Yesterday, while visiting with a friend and her family, I heard the first mention of Abercrombie Kids. Yes, that's right. Our children's favorite teen and college age clothing vendor, Abercrombie and Fitch, has opened its doors to the younger clientele, grade school age children and tweens.
I'll just wait right here while you take that in for a second or two.
OK, I'm guessing you're ready to go on now.
I thought it was a joke. I mean, wouldn't it make a great SNL skit?
I'm not stupid, I understand the logic. Get a young kid hooked on the brand and then they will be even more loyal as teens and young adults. But this is a little different than Gap Kids. Gap Kids sells clothing kind of like what they sell at the adults store -- t-shirts, jeans, khakis...clothes that don't look like you've just come off the beach or out of bed.
I was in college during grunge and I understand the appeal of the look. You give off the aura that you don't care about your appearance and you have bigger things on your mind. You don't have the time or energy (or money) to put towards fashion. Grunge is the ultimate exemplar of function before fashion...which becomes a fashion statement in and of itself. But now it's acceptable to pay top dollar for this. Every time I see stores that carry this look, I think that I've got to teach all these kids how to shop at Goodwill, wash their clothes in the wrong temperature and then overstuff the dryer and leave all the laundry in there for a day.
It's like Grace wearing big faux diamond stud earrings and a pearl bracelet paired with a wrinkly flannel and jeans with holes in them. No. No, no, no. This is all wrong.
Back to the point. We're now selling this look to children? Grade school age children? I presume because it has become so acceptable to obtain the look of "I didn't pay much for this and I don't care what I look like" via a credit card that we forgot the attitude and message that was what was behind the look. And now we want to put that look on children? Huh?
WHAT IS HAPPENING TO THE WORLD OF FASHION OUT THERE?
I suppose this is how the baby boomers feel when they see a woman wearing a couture item with the words "Power to the People" emblazoned across the front in purple and green sequins. That cost over $1,000. Oh my.
One last dig at abercrombie kids and then I'll drop it, I promise. It's the image on the gift cards available online. A shirtless tween boy flanked by a cute girl wrapped around his arm. All I can think of is the ad campaign by Abercrombie (for adults) with the Adonic guys. Not bad to look at...unless the models are under the age of 13. Then it's just wrong, you know?
Please help our children...
Yesterday, while visiting with a friend and her family, I heard the first mention of Abercrombie Kids. Yes, that's right. Our children's favorite teen and college age clothing vendor, Abercrombie and Fitch, has opened its doors to the younger clientele, grade school age children and tweens.
I'll just wait right here while you take that in for a second or two.
OK, I'm guessing you're ready to go on now.
I thought it was a joke. I mean, wouldn't it make a great SNL skit?
I'm not stupid, I understand the logic. Get a young kid hooked on the brand and then they will be even more loyal as teens and young adults. But this is a little different than Gap Kids. Gap Kids sells clothing kind of like what they sell at the adults store -- t-shirts, jeans, khakis...clothes that don't look like you've just come off the beach or out of bed.
I was in college during grunge and I understand the appeal of the look. You give off the aura that you don't care about your appearance and you have bigger things on your mind. You don't have the time or energy (or money) to put towards fashion. Grunge is the ultimate exemplar of function before fashion...which becomes a fashion statement in and of itself. But now it's acceptable to pay top dollar for this. Every time I see stores that carry this look, I think that I've got to teach all these kids how to shop at Goodwill, wash their clothes in the wrong temperature and then overstuff the dryer and leave all the laundry in there for a day.
It's like Grace wearing big faux diamond stud earrings and a pearl bracelet paired with a wrinkly flannel and jeans with holes in them. No. No, no, no. This is all wrong.
Back to the point. We're now selling this look to children? Grade school age children? I presume because it has become so acceptable to obtain the look of "I didn't pay much for this and I don't care what I look like" via a credit card that we forgot the attitude and message that was what was behind the look. And now we want to put that look on children? Huh?
WHAT IS HAPPENING TO THE WORLD OF FASHION OUT THERE?
I suppose this is how the baby boomers feel when they see a woman wearing a couture item with the words "Power to the People" emblazoned across the front in purple and green sequins. That cost over $1,000. Oh my.
One last dig at abercrombie kids and then I'll drop it, I promise. It's the image on the gift cards available online. A shirtless tween boy flanked by a cute girl wrapped around his arm. All I can think of is the ad campaign by Abercrombie (for adults) with the Adonic guys. Not bad to look at...unless the models are under the age of 13. Then it's just wrong, you know?
Please help our children...
Thursday, September 10, 2009
Marriage, Part 3: About that health care debate...
I can't figure out who these people are who say they are happy with their health care coverage plan. I don't know anyone who is happy with theirs. Mine is fine, my health care needs are met, but my access to it is completely contingent upon my husband's full-time employment. It seems like a very precarious position to be in, that your family's health care coverage would evaporate instantly if one person were unable to report to work full-time. Yes, I know, COBRA. Do you have any idea how much electing to continue health insurance through COBRA costs for an individual or a family? And I would likely not be eligible because my pre-existing conditions are plentiful. Neither would my daughter Grace for the same reasons.
While thinking about this, I started remembering how many people I've talked to who made the decision to marry when they did because they needed the health care benefits their partner could make available to them. I know that when I got married four years ago, the timing of our wedding coincided very closely with the date that my health coverage would cease. In the last month I've heard from two friends who did the same.
Now, I don't want to make it sound like I got married for the health care plan. I didn't. But it was a nice perk. And it was definitely a factor in thinking that planning a wedding 12 weeks would be better than giving myself more time.
So now that I've been hearing from friends around me that we all share this in common, I'm starting to think this is more prevalent of a situation than I originally thought. So I ask of all of you out there this question: how many people, yourself included, do you know that got married at a certain point because they were in need of an affordable health care plan?
While thinking about this, I started remembering how many people I've talked to who made the decision to marry when they did because they needed the health care benefits their partner could make available to them. I know that when I got married four years ago, the timing of our wedding coincided very closely with the date that my health coverage would cease. In the last month I've heard from two friends who did the same.
Now, I don't want to make it sound like I got married for the health care plan. I didn't. But it was a nice perk. And it was definitely a factor in thinking that planning a wedding 12 weeks would be better than giving myself more time.
So now that I've been hearing from friends around me that we all share this in common, I'm starting to think this is more prevalent of a situation than I originally thought. So I ask of all of you out there this question: how many people, yourself included, do you know that got married at a certain point because they were in need of an affordable health care plan?
Saturday, September 5, 2009
Michigan these days
The current economic recession this country is experiencing didn't blind-side me or most Michiganders. We saw it coming long before the nation did, because Michigan has been experiencing a recession (or possibly a depression) for years.
For most of us living here, we don't need the published statistics to see the effects. Everyone knows friends and family members out of work. Everyone knows a family who has left the state for work elsewhere. My county, one of the better off ones in the state, just announced that ALL non-federal mandated spending will be cut in order to make the budget balance. One of the bridges in town in a heavily trafficked area has been reduced to one lane in each direction because it is no longer structurally sound for more weight -- and there's no money to fix it.
Enter my daughter and her driver's education.
Grace is fifteen, which means she wants her learner's permit to drive. When I was a teenager, I went down to the DMV, took a written test, had my mother sign a piece of paper, and I walked out with my learner's permit. Not so these days. Teens are required to receive 24 hours of instruction in the classroom, 6 hours of observation on the road, and 4 hours behind the wheel before getting their permit. Oh, and they have to take and pass a written test. The bottom line is this: you have to pay for driver's education. And you have to find about a month of available time to ferry your teenager back and forth from classes, driving times, and examinations in order for them to meet the requirements for the permit.
So during July and August we did this. We forked out some $350+ for the course and she dutifully attended every single lesson and class. Grace took her last driving lesson the night before Stella was born. Now she holds a "green slip," the evidence that she has passed the course. She can drive with it, provided a licensed adult is in the front seat, but she needs to get her official permit from the Secretary of State office. The longer she waits, the longer it is until she gets her real driver's license, because you have to hold a permit for 180 days before you can get a real license.
All through the summer days of driving, I realized much more acutely that the roads are in terrible condition. Teaching a kid to drive and avoid potholes at the same time is not easy. I kept thinking, I wish there was money to fill these potholes. The road out in front of our house got more and more jagged until we started coaching her to drive on the left side of the street when the road was clear. Ah well, what are you going to do? Some day we'll get out of this recession and the roads will slowly get fixed, one by one.
I promised Grace that I would take her to the Secretary of State as soon as I could after Stella was born. I knew it wouldn't be easy to find a good time since I would be recovering and she would have a packed schedule with preseason swim team training. Stella would have to come along with us too since the lines would be long. And I definitely wanted to get it done before Grace started school because, oh lordy, then it would be impossible to find an available time.
Yesterday, on Friday, Grace and I set out after her morning swim practice to get her driver's learning permit. We had all our documents, we got Stella all ready and in the car, and we drove up to the office. When we got to the office, Grace carried Stella in her car seat to the door because that's still too much weight for me to lift.
We were ready.
We were stoked.
We were feeling like we were getting things done.
We got to the front door of the office, pulled on the door, and found it was locked. The office was closed, no one was home. It was a required furlough day for all Secretary of State offices, the last of six such days this year. The state is saving $22 million by taking such an action.
I thought, "damn." Because our efforts had been thwarted and we were inconvenienced.
And then I thought, "damn." Because all those state workers got the day off. Without pay.
I'm wondering when the day will come that we go through the entire day and not be reminded that people all around us, our neighbors, our friends, everyone, is doing without in this season. Some are fairing alright, but some are really suffering. I'm wondering how many of the state workers are able to enjoy their long four-day holiday weekend given that it came at a fairly high cost, and at a cost they didn't choose.
Grace completely understood the situation. She didn't make a fuss or complain. I promised her that we would come back to the office on Tuesday when they have extended hours until 7p. She said that would work great. Sometimes I wish I had Grace's disposition, the ability to just accept the ups and downs, to roll with the punches. She sees things pretty clearly, but she always seems to see the glass as half full.
For most of us living here, we don't need the published statistics to see the effects. Everyone knows friends and family members out of work. Everyone knows a family who has left the state for work elsewhere. My county, one of the better off ones in the state, just announced that ALL non-federal mandated spending will be cut in order to make the budget balance. One of the bridges in town in a heavily trafficked area has been reduced to one lane in each direction because it is no longer structurally sound for more weight -- and there's no money to fix it.
Enter my daughter and her driver's education.
Grace is fifteen, which means she wants her learner's permit to drive. When I was a teenager, I went down to the DMV, took a written test, had my mother sign a piece of paper, and I walked out with my learner's permit. Not so these days. Teens are required to receive 24 hours of instruction in the classroom, 6 hours of observation on the road, and 4 hours behind the wheel before getting their permit. Oh, and they have to take and pass a written test. The bottom line is this: you have to pay for driver's education. And you have to find about a month of available time to ferry your teenager back and forth from classes, driving times, and examinations in order for them to meet the requirements for the permit.
So during July and August we did this. We forked out some $350+ for the course and she dutifully attended every single lesson and class. Grace took her last driving lesson the night before Stella was born. Now she holds a "green slip," the evidence that she has passed the course. She can drive with it, provided a licensed adult is in the front seat, but she needs to get her official permit from the Secretary of State office. The longer she waits, the longer it is until she gets her real driver's license, because you have to hold a permit for 180 days before you can get a real license.
All through the summer days of driving, I realized much more acutely that the roads are in terrible condition. Teaching a kid to drive and avoid potholes at the same time is not easy. I kept thinking, I wish there was money to fill these potholes. The road out in front of our house got more and more jagged until we started coaching her to drive on the left side of the street when the road was clear. Ah well, what are you going to do? Some day we'll get out of this recession and the roads will slowly get fixed, one by one.
I promised Grace that I would take her to the Secretary of State as soon as I could after Stella was born. I knew it wouldn't be easy to find a good time since I would be recovering and she would have a packed schedule with preseason swim team training. Stella would have to come along with us too since the lines would be long. And I definitely wanted to get it done before Grace started school because, oh lordy, then it would be impossible to find an available time.
Yesterday, on Friday, Grace and I set out after her morning swim practice to get her driver's learning permit. We had all our documents, we got Stella all ready and in the car, and we drove up to the office. When we got to the office, Grace carried Stella in her car seat to the door because that's still too much weight for me to lift.
We were ready.
We were stoked.
We were feeling like we were getting things done.
We got to the front door of the office, pulled on the door, and found it was locked. The office was closed, no one was home. It was a required furlough day for all Secretary of State offices, the last of six such days this year. The state is saving $22 million by taking such an action.
I thought, "damn." Because our efforts had been thwarted and we were inconvenienced.
And then I thought, "damn." Because all those state workers got the day off. Without pay.
I'm wondering when the day will come that we go through the entire day and not be reminded that people all around us, our neighbors, our friends, everyone, is doing without in this season. Some are fairing alright, but some are really suffering. I'm wondering how many of the state workers are able to enjoy their long four-day holiday weekend given that it came at a fairly high cost, and at a cost they didn't choose.
Grace completely understood the situation. She didn't make a fuss or complain. I promised her that we would come back to the office on Tuesday when they have extended hours until 7p. She said that would work great. Sometimes I wish I had Grace's disposition, the ability to just accept the ups and downs, to roll with the punches. She sees things pretty clearly, but she always seems to see the glass as half full.
Friday, September 4, 2009
What Not To Wear
A few weeks ago while my mother was still visiting us, we made good use of her time by asking her to run errands around town and buy things we needed. One of those errands was one she enjoys very much: buying Grace new clothing for the school year.
Grace likes this activity with her grandmother very much more than she likes doing it with me. See, my purse strings are a bit tighter than grandma's and my willingness to allow certain items enter into Grace's wardrobe is far more conservative. But alas, this year there was no contest. I was home in bed with a newborn, and grandma, and with her money bags, was ready and willing and eager to go to the mall.
And so off to the mall they went, the two of them, to spend copious amounts of time, energy, and most importantly, money, at some of Grace's favorite stores. High on the list was H&M. I can't stand going to this store with Grace. Sure, it is filled with tons of clothing for less than what other lines would charge (like Abercrombie & Fitch, Urban Outfitters, American Apparel, American Eagle, Hot Topic, and Forever 21). But there is still one problem with H&M. Grace has the impression that anything that is for sale at that store must be (1) fashionable, (2) useful, and (3) worth the money they are charging for it.
I would like to interject at this point that my mother is not the same woman I grew up with. She did not take me or my sisters out and spend money like this. We wore uniforms to school and thus the only other clothing we needed were church clothing for Sunday and shorts and t-shirts for doing chores. I cannot remember my mother ever taking me to the mall and buying me more than 4 items in one trip. Period.
Back to my mother's and Grace's shopping trip. I am sitting at home with Stella when the phone rings. It is my mother calling on her cell phone from H&M. Grace is in the fitting room. Mom is calling to ask about one item she is trying on. See, even though my mother is generous with Grace, she still strives to not buy anything that is out of line by my clothing rules for Grace. So she was calling to make sure that the miniskirt Grace was trying on wouldn't cause any problems.
After talking to my mother a few minutes, I asked to talk to Grace on the phone. She happily got on the phone and told me that the miniskirt was three inches below her fingertips and thus wouldn't cause any problems at school. I asked her to describe the skirt. It was a form-fitting knit miniskirt with a black and purple leopard skin print.
[pause. I breathed deeply here so as not to tick the teenager off.]
I said to her, 'I would prefer that you not spend money on that because it wouldn't really be appropriate for school.' She accepted that and we ended the phone call.
Come to think of it, I'm not sure what a piece of apparel like that would be useful for. A job interview? A night out on the town? What do you pair with this skirt, a black tank top and high heels?
But I didn't tell her all that. I just told her it wouldn't be worth buying because she wouldn't be able to get much wear out of it.
I would like to interject at this point as well, that this is also a piece of evidence that my mother is not the woman I grew up with. My mother would have never dreamed of allowing me to even consider clothing that was risque or questionable. If I tried on clothing that she didn't approve of, I got a very unhappy mother in the fitting room. And there was a lot that she didn't approve of. Like form-fitting knit miniskirts with black and purple leopard skin print.
Grace and my mother came home two hours and $350 later with an enormous amount of new clothing. She put on a fashion show for me and the final verdict was that she had done good. One dress would need to be exchanged for a different style and she was required to let me borrow the uber-cool, hip length, black trench coat she got, the one that she picked out to wear with the black riding hat. Yes, a black riding hat. Like the ones Princess Anne wears when she rides her horses.
My sister is coming in town today for Labor Day weekend. She told me a few days ago that she would like to treat Grace to an afternoon out at Starbucks and then clothing shopping at Plato's Closet. I told my sister the story of Grace's recent trip to the mall with our mother. My sister suggested that before she goes shopping with Grace, the two of them should "shop Grace's closet." In other words, make heads or tails of what she's got already, since it is likely she needs nothing new. Really. Because even though I know nothing of fashion trends and what's hot this summer, Bossy keeps up with this stuff and posted a very informative primer for this year's fall must-haves. And Grace has got all that stuff. Tons of long necklaces? Check. leggings? Check, check and check in three neutral colors. Knee high boots with flat soles? Check. Boyfriend jacket? Check (and mother is educated to know that the aforementioned black trench coat is actually a boyfriend jacket). Sequined skirt, jeans with baroque backsides, tailored plaid tops, and items with ruffles? Check, check, check and, check. Oh yeah, she's stocked.
Grace has a unique sense of style. She does her own thing. For a 15-year-old girl, she does pretty well. But when I see some of the outfits she puts together, I am reminded about how much teenagers don't see the whole picture. There are some outfits you never put together unless you're sending a not-too-nice message.
Like last Sunday she was going to an outdoor cookout/sleepover up the street with a bunch of her girlfriends. She wore a pair of short running shorts along with two tank tops and her Adidas deck sandals. Easy enough. But then she puts on a pearl bracelet, faux diamond stud earrings, makeup designed for the Oscars and a headband covered with white satin with a big white satin bow on the side. It was bizarre. I tried to explain to her that when she puts so much effort into looking good that it's unclear what message she's trying to send by wearing so little clothing. I mean, if she hadn't put so much work on the accessorizing, she would have just looked laid back and casual. But instead she looked like she was trying to show off something. There was a side issue as well that the temperatures were dropping into the 40s that night and I couldn't figure out why she was wearing so little clothing. But by objecting to her choices in fashion, it was like I had committed the unpardonable sin. She was completely upset and argued the whole time.
I've been at this thing of trying to teach my daughter what is and what is not ok to put together in an outfit for years now. I feel like I'm making very little headway. I keep asking myself, how does a mother teach her daughter to refrain from wearing outfits that are never in fashion? How does a mother, in a caring way, tell her daughter that the way she has put herself together makes her worth less than she really is? I really wish I could get to the bottom of this issue and figure out the best way to communicate this message to her.
Grace likes this activity with her grandmother very much more than she likes doing it with me. See, my purse strings are a bit tighter than grandma's and my willingness to allow certain items enter into Grace's wardrobe is far more conservative. But alas, this year there was no contest. I was home in bed with a newborn, and grandma, and with her money bags, was ready and willing and eager to go to the mall.
And so off to the mall they went, the two of them, to spend copious amounts of time, energy, and most importantly, money, at some of Grace's favorite stores. High on the list was H&M. I can't stand going to this store with Grace. Sure, it is filled with tons of clothing for less than what other lines would charge (like Abercrombie & Fitch, Urban Outfitters, American Apparel, American Eagle, Hot Topic, and Forever 21). But there is still one problem with H&M. Grace has the impression that anything that is for sale at that store must be (1) fashionable, (2) useful, and (3) worth the money they are charging for it.
I would like to interject at this point that my mother is not the same woman I grew up with. She did not take me or my sisters out and spend money like this. We wore uniforms to school and thus the only other clothing we needed were church clothing for Sunday and shorts and t-shirts for doing chores. I cannot remember my mother ever taking me to the mall and buying me more than 4 items in one trip. Period.
Back to my mother's and Grace's shopping trip. I am sitting at home with Stella when the phone rings. It is my mother calling on her cell phone from H&M. Grace is in the fitting room. Mom is calling to ask about one item she is trying on. See, even though my mother is generous with Grace, she still strives to not buy anything that is out of line by my clothing rules for Grace. So she was calling to make sure that the miniskirt Grace was trying on wouldn't cause any problems.
After talking to my mother a few minutes, I asked to talk to Grace on the phone. She happily got on the phone and told me that the miniskirt was three inches below her fingertips and thus wouldn't cause any problems at school. I asked her to describe the skirt. It was a form-fitting knit miniskirt with a black and purple leopard skin print.
[pause. I breathed deeply here so as not to tick the teenager off.]
I said to her, 'I would prefer that you not spend money on that because it wouldn't really be appropriate for school.' She accepted that and we ended the phone call.
Come to think of it, I'm not sure what a piece of apparel like that would be useful for. A job interview? A night out on the town? What do you pair with this skirt, a black tank top and high heels?
But I didn't tell her all that. I just told her it wouldn't be worth buying because she wouldn't be able to get much wear out of it.
I would like to interject at this point as well, that this is also a piece of evidence that my mother is not the woman I grew up with. My mother would have never dreamed of allowing me to even consider clothing that was risque or questionable. If I tried on clothing that she didn't approve of, I got a very unhappy mother in the fitting room. And there was a lot that she didn't approve of. Like form-fitting knit miniskirts with black and purple leopard skin print.
Grace and my mother came home two hours and $350 later with an enormous amount of new clothing. She put on a fashion show for me and the final verdict was that she had done good. One dress would need to be exchanged for a different style and she was required to let me borrow the uber-cool, hip length, black trench coat she got, the one that she picked out to wear with the black riding hat. Yes, a black riding hat. Like the ones Princess Anne wears when she rides her horses.
My sister is coming in town today for Labor Day weekend. She told me a few days ago that she would like to treat Grace to an afternoon out at Starbucks and then clothing shopping at Plato's Closet. I told my sister the story of Grace's recent trip to the mall with our mother. My sister suggested that before she goes shopping with Grace, the two of them should "shop Grace's closet." In other words, make heads or tails of what she's got already, since it is likely she needs nothing new. Really. Because even though I know nothing of fashion trends and what's hot this summer, Bossy keeps up with this stuff and posted a very informative primer for this year's fall must-haves. And Grace has got all that stuff. Tons of long necklaces? Check. leggings? Check, check and check in three neutral colors. Knee high boots with flat soles? Check. Boyfriend jacket? Check (and mother is educated to know that the aforementioned black trench coat is actually a boyfriend jacket). Sequined skirt, jeans with baroque backsides, tailored plaid tops, and items with ruffles? Check, check, check and, check. Oh yeah, she's stocked.
Grace has a unique sense of style. She does her own thing. For a 15-year-old girl, she does pretty well. But when I see some of the outfits she puts together, I am reminded about how much teenagers don't see the whole picture. There are some outfits you never put together unless you're sending a not-too-nice message.
Like last Sunday she was going to an outdoor cookout/sleepover up the street with a bunch of her girlfriends. She wore a pair of short running shorts along with two tank tops and her Adidas deck sandals. Easy enough. But then she puts on a pearl bracelet, faux diamond stud earrings, makeup designed for the Oscars and a headband covered with white satin with a big white satin bow on the side. It was bizarre. I tried to explain to her that when she puts so much effort into looking good that it's unclear what message she's trying to send by wearing so little clothing. I mean, if she hadn't put so much work on the accessorizing, she would have just looked laid back and casual. But instead she looked like she was trying to show off something. There was a side issue as well that the temperatures were dropping into the 40s that night and I couldn't figure out why she was wearing so little clothing. But by objecting to her choices in fashion, it was like I had committed the unpardonable sin. She was completely upset and argued the whole time.
I've been at this thing of trying to teach my daughter what is and what is not ok to put together in an outfit for years now. I feel like I'm making very little headway. I keep asking myself, how does a mother teach her daughter to refrain from wearing outfits that are never in fashion? How does a mother, in a caring way, tell her daughter that the way she has put herself together makes her worth less than she really is? I really wish I could get to the bottom of this issue and figure out the best way to communicate this message to her.
Wednesday, August 26, 2009
That's a bit too personal
So over there on the left sidebar have been sitting the results of a brief poll I took during July. The question asked was simple: "Here at my blog, do you think I should delve into discussing issues that might hurt people I care about, even if such ruminations on my part might help me be a healthier person?"
It's something every blogger has to decide for themselves. Of course, the slant of a blog tends to dictate some of this; if you're writing a foodie blog, you're less likely to find yourself at a fork in the road where you must ponder the question. But if you're like me and write a blog about yourself, your past, your parenting skills, the way you were parented, your children...these things tend to smack you in the face more often.
I've decided not to write stuff that here that I wouldn't want someone to find because the bottom line is, sooner or later someone will find it. However, I could share some things without pointing fingers. And a bit of my thoughts without giving away all the secrets. And reveal things without risking hurting others.
I write a lot about political commentary and religion. Not that those two are necessarily intertwined, but they can be. And they have been intertwined in my life. And their intertwining oftentimes causes me to react.
I realized over the past couple months that I am not reacting to politics or religion primarily. If I meet someone who is devoutly religious, I don't damn them in my mind. If I talk to someone with differing political views than mind, I don't instantly judge them and write them off. Rather, most times when I sound off on an issue here at my blog, I am reacting to the source of these opinions. And many times the opinions are coming from...my mother.
I know, I know, I can imagine what you're thinking. This is everyone's plight, I'm just another middle-aged mom with a mother who is critical and disagrees with everything I value. I can't tell you how many times I've read bloggers who have banged out tomes on the same train of thought. But for me the friction I experience with my mother has a deeper root than her being a little cranky and irritable and disagreeable. Recently I realized, I don't have the strength to tolerate the banter. Why? It's because of the mixed past I have the source of the banter. When I get these emails from my mom, I don't hear "I disagree with your politics;" I hear, "I disapprove of you and who you are." And so I blog about the issue, believing it's the politics or the religious overtones that are at stake. But that's not really what's bothering me.
CoffeeYogurt has a great blog. Go visit it. I mention it here because she's a psychologist and there is one small tidbit there that will make you laugh. In her comments, she set the text to read, "Tell me about your mother..." Perfect, eh? I've never told her about my mother (I don't think), but man, if I did, I could say a lot. So thanks for the continual source of amusement for me, CoffeeYogurt!
OK, so to the point. What has this got to do with my blog and my decision not to discuss issues that could be hurtful? Well, I realized that some of my ranting here is a little out of place. Do I believe God exists? I don't know; I'm a trained scientist, so I don't know how to even answer a question that can't be answered through research. So I'm not an atheist. Would I ever consider going to church again? I would, especially if I found a church that was "right" (and I don't mean that in the US political sense). It's just been hard to find that. Would I ever lean to less liberal politics? Hell, yes. I value equal rights and a strict separation of church and state (even if the state church is my own), however, I'm a bit concerned about liberal use of money these days. For the record, I was concerned about it when it was a Republican administration that was spending so much too...
So I think I'm going to stop using this blog as the outlet of my frustrating relationship I have with my mother. I don't know why she sends me the messages she does or why she says the things she does. I've decided not to engage the conversation with her anymore. And I've decided to stop letting these messages affect me too. Including composing whole posts for my blog in order to vent my frustration.
Anyone out there who thinks I may get my emotions bottled up and burst one day due to the lack of venting, don't worry; I have a therapist ;-)
It's something every blogger has to decide for themselves. Of course, the slant of a blog tends to dictate some of this; if you're writing a foodie blog, you're less likely to find yourself at a fork in the road where you must ponder the question. But if you're like me and write a blog about yourself, your past, your parenting skills, the way you were parented, your children...these things tend to smack you in the face more often.
I've decided not to write stuff that here that I wouldn't want someone to find because the bottom line is, sooner or later someone will find it. However, I could share some things without pointing fingers. And a bit of my thoughts without giving away all the secrets. And reveal things without risking hurting others.
I write a lot about political commentary and religion. Not that those two are necessarily intertwined, but they can be. And they have been intertwined in my life. And their intertwining oftentimes causes me to react.
I realized over the past couple months that I am not reacting to politics or religion primarily. If I meet someone who is devoutly religious, I don't damn them in my mind. If I talk to someone with differing political views than mind, I don't instantly judge them and write them off. Rather, most times when I sound off on an issue here at my blog, I am reacting to the source of these opinions. And many times the opinions are coming from...my mother.
I know, I know, I can imagine what you're thinking. This is everyone's plight, I'm just another middle-aged mom with a mother who is critical and disagrees with everything I value. I can't tell you how many times I've read bloggers who have banged out tomes on the same train of thought. But for me the friction I experience with my mother has a deeper root than her being a little cranky and irritable and disagreeable. Recently I realized, I don't have the strength to tolerate the banter. Why? It's because of the mixed past I have the source of the banter. When I get these emails from my mom, I don't hear "I disagree with your politics;" I hear, "I disapprove of you and who you are." And so I blog about the issue, believing it's the politics or the religious overtones that are at stake. But that's not really what's bothering me.
CoffeeYogurt has a great blog. Go visit it. I mention it here because she's a psychologist and there is one small tidbit there that will make you laugh. In her comments, she set the text to read, "Tell me about your mother..." Perfect, eh? I've never told her about my mother (I don't think), but man, if I did, I could say a lot. So thanks for the continual source of amusement for me, CoffeeYogurt!
OK, so to the point. What has this got to do with my blog and my decision not to discuss issues that could be hurtful? Well, I realized that some of my ranting here is a little out of place. Do I believe God exists? I don't know; I'm a trained scientist, so I don't know how to even answer a question that can't be answered through research. So I'm not an atheist. Would I ever consider going to church again? I would, especially if I found a church that was "right" (and I don't mean that in the US political sense). It's just been hard to find that. Would I ever lean to less liberal politics? Hell, yes. I value equal rights and a strict separation of church and state (even if the state church is my own), however, I'm a bit concerned about liberal use of money these days. For the record, I was concerned about it when it was a Republican administration that was spending so much too...
So I think I'm going to stop using this blog as the outlet of my frustrating relationship I have with my mother. I don't know why she sends me the messages she does or why she says the things she does. I've decided not to engage the conversation with her anymore. And I've decided to stop letting these messages affect me too. Including composing whole posts for my blog in order to vent my frustration.
Anyone out there who thinks I may get my emotions bottled up and burst one day due to the lack of venting, don't worry; I have a therapist ;-)
Wednesday, July 8, 2009
A bit melancholy
I'll tell you friends, it's been a long week. A lot of things that have gone on are things that would normally have sent me spinning and carping, but right now these are causing me just to have a short temper with people and write them off, tell them to grow up and get a real problem.
My father-in-law is dying.
We've spent the last 2-3 days trying to get a reasonably priced fare between Michigan and Brazil for my husband, while both of us deal with the oscillating emotions of whether he should go while I'm this close to delivery. But the truth is, if he doesn't go, he'll miss it all, whatever "it" is, that is. Holding his father's hand while he's doped up on morphine and comatose, holding a sister while she cries, getting to attend a funeral, who knows.
And so it is that I find myself before 6a in the morning, unable to sleep any longer despite the first persistent migraine in two months accompanied by severe pelvic pain and one reluctant dose of vicodin, watching the sun creep slowly into the horizon.
I'm realizing that dealing with all this is another way in which I have discovered how much I love my husband.
I want my daughter, the one that's not born yet, to at least be heard by her grandfather, even if that's only over the phone. But I'm afraid it's far too late for that.
The fender bender that happened to our car a couple weeks ago and the ensuing repairs that are taking over a week, that seems unimportant. That I repeated that fender bender almost perfectly with the other car two days ago also seemed like a dream, like it was life passing before me. Everything seems trite and banal. My sister's jealousy over my pregnancy, my ex-mother-in-law dissing me to Grace day by day, the cat suddenly staging a protest over using her litter box and using the carpet in the den instead...all this was really important a week ago. Today? Not so much so.
I'm wondering if being in the midst of clinical depression is making me more melancholy about the whole circumstance. But maybe it's also allowing me to be more in touch with my feelings and be more sensitive. Maybe it's making it possible for me to feel my emotions more accurately than if I was busily distracting myself with the normal overstimulation and hyperactivity I regularly feel.
We saw Grace at a swim meet yesterday afternoon. It was the first time she'd seen my husband since she learned of his father being ill. When she was done with her first event, she came to us and gave him a hug. It's the first time she's ever done this spontaneously, without someone telling her she should (like on Christmas after receiving a gift or sometime like that). The gesture was not unnoticed.
I suppose life is like this. You live, you experience, you feel, you learn. Somewhere along the way you realize, this is what living is. I guess right now I'm wishing that living didn't include the dying part, the dying of people around you and of yourself as well.
My father-in-law is dying.
We've spent the last 2-3 days trying to get a reasonably priced fare between Michigan and Brazil for my husband, while both of us deal with the oscillating emotions of whether he should go while I'm this close to delivery. But the truth is, if he doesn't go, he'll miss it all, whatever "it" is, that is. Holding his father's hand while he's doped up on morphine and comatose, holding a sister while she cries, getting to attend a funeral, who knows.
And so it is that I find myself before 6a in the morning, unable to sleep any longer despite the first persistent migraine in two months accompanied by severe pelvic pain and one reluctant dose of vicodin, watching the sun creep slowly into the horizon.
I'm realizing that dealing with all this is another way in which I have discovered how much I love my husband.
I want my daughter, the one that's not born yet, to at least be heard by her grandfather, even if that's only over the phone. But I'm afraid it's far too late for that.
The fender bender that happened to our car a couple weeks ago and the ensuing repairs that are taking over a week, that seems unimportant. That I repeated that fender bender almost perfectly with the other car two days ago also seemed like a dream, like it was life passing before me. Everything seems trite and banal. My sister's jealousy over my pregnancy, my ex-mother-in-law dissing me to Grace day by day, the cat suddenly staging a protest over using her litter box and using the carpet in the den instead...all this was really important a week ago. Today? Not so much so.
I'm wondering if being in the midst of clinical depression is making me more melancholy about the whole circumstance. But maybe it's also allowing me to be more in touch with my feelings and be more sensitive. Maybe it's making it possible for me to feel my emotions more accurately than if I was busily distracting myself with the normal overstimulation and hyperactivity I regularly feel.
We saw Grace at a swim meet yesterday afternoon. It was the first time she'd seen my husband since she learned of his father being ill. When she was done with her first event, she came to us and gave him a hug. It's the first time she's ever done this spontaneously, without someone telling her she should (like on Christmas after receiving a gift or sometime like that). The gesture was not unnoticed.
I suppose life is like this. You live, you experience, you feel, you learn. Somewhere along the way you realize, this is what living is. I guess right now I'm wishing that living didn't include the dying part, the dying of people around you and of yourself as well.
Friday, June 26, 2009
What's best for a child?
Grace is sick. Again. Well, not really, she's not really sick. My best guess is that she's temporarily anemic due to poor diet and starting summer swim team training. She had dizzy spells for three days until she told me about it over email. I told her to eat more meat. By day four, she skipped swim practice. She said she woke up late, decided she was too sick to go, and slept in until 10a. Now she says she's fine. She was convinced this was a side effect of starting birth control pills, which she started the day before the dizzy spells started. That's possible, I suppose. I told her to try eating meat or some other iron-rich protein for breakfast, I would call the doctor, and asked her to keep me informed. As I said before, she's been eating protein in the morning (eggs, ham) for two days and she's fine now. I'll take that as a sign that my best guess was right and that the birth control pills aren't having any negative side effects worth noting.
Ooooooooo kaaaaayyyyyyyyy. I'm going to try and make this a productive post, one that doesn't just turn into an ex-husband-bashing-fest.
Last week Dragonflymama and I co-hosted a discussion between biomoms and stepmoms. Her question to me going into this discussion was, how much do I worry about Grace when she visits with her father and stepmother. The honest answer is, quite a bit. I worry not because I think her father is intentionally harmful or awful, but rather because I think he is ignorant. He's ignorant about things that are important for basic quality of life. His younger kids are chronically ill, so I hear. And Grace is frequently ill when she returns from his house for weekend stays and for longer visits. For more about this, you can read here, here, and here. I don't even waste my energy talking about her stepmother on this issue; clearly her father is somewhat inept, and her stepmother either isn't able to help or isn't willing to help.
The most serious thing that's happened regarding this matter occurred just before I started blogging. In the fall of 8th grade, Grace was at her father's for the weekend and he called Sunday afternoon to say she was sick and could I come get her because he didn't want his other kids catching whatever she had. She had starting vomiting that morning. When he called, she was resting and drinking liquids. Bad, bad, bad. See, she has a chronic condition that is serious but manageable through lifestyle choices. The just-letting-her-drink-liquids-and-rest remedy is bad news for Grace. I drove to his house immediately to pick her up, only to find myself at the ER with her for the next nine hours. All night long, I watched her slumber in fatigue. She was woken up after every 1000 ccs of fluid to have her vitals taken. Three times she stood up, they attempted to take her blood pressure, and she subsequently passed out as I was holding her. Needless to say, she needed a few days to recover. (No, he didn't call that night or in the next few days to find out any news of how she was feeling. She didn't call him either.)
I could seek to stop the risk (that is, the risk as I see it) to Grace through legal means. I could just ask the court to cease all overnight stays with her father and let visitation be limited to day visits. I hesitate to do this. Though it would solve her health risks, her father wouldn't stand for it. When I was divorcing the guy and asking for no overnights, citing potential health risks, her father came at me like a bat out of hell. So did his attorney. I realized, I'm losing this one. No matter how much I think this guy is potentially harming his daughter, the court doesn't agree. They think this guy needs time and opportunity to parent his child, including doing so overnight. So that's it. His right to try and parent in a less-than-optimal way is more important than the potential risk to the child.
He was court-ordered not to smoke in confined spaces with her, nor put her in the situation where anyone else would. Like that piece of paper made any difference...
Next, if I did this, I'd get painted as the evil, evil, evil biomom. Really, I would. Can you imagine what this would come off sounding like? I just don't want to deal with the aftermath. And it's likely that the aftermath would come without any improvement to the situation.
Worst of all, Grace would be furious with me if I tried this. Though of late she's shown somewhat of a cooling off in her affection for her father and her eagerness to be with him, she definitely doesn't want to stop seeing him. Or rather I should say, she doesn't want to stop seeing his family. Over Memorial Day weekend, he and his wife hosted a big bonfire party with his friends. Grace and her two toddler siblings were the only children in attendance. (Bonfire? Children? Am I the only one who finds this odd?) Anyways, she willingly attended and, when it was quite late (11p) and the younger children could stay awake no longer, she took them home, put them to bed, and that was that. When she related the story to me she said it had been a great weekend. She said she thought her father and stepmother came home about 3a, though she wasn't sure. She just knew she woke up at 2a and they weren't home. But she was clear to tell me that they weren't drunk. Yeah, of course they had been drinking but they weren't drunk, she was sure of it...
I feel like I'm allowing Grace to continue staying at a friend's house for sleepover while the friend's parents aren't providing a safe environment for anyone in their home. Yes, the friend may be very sweet, and I don't doubt that Grace is having a good time while visiting, but it just isn't safe. The obvious difference, of course, is that I have (as of now) no right to limit the sleepovers, uh, I mean, overnight visitation with her father so he can have an opportunity to parent.
And really, what am I going to tell the courts that's going to justify my concerns? That my daughter eats too much junk food at her father's house? That she's taking care of younger siblings when her father and stepmother want a night off? That she's not getting enough sleep? When I think about how the affidavit would read, it's a weak case at best. And then there's the expense, both financial and emotional.
I know I sound like a broken record. I keep saying, this co-parenting thing is complete shit and I'm tired of compromising just because the courts say I have to. I am tired of sending my daughter off to this household and hoping she's ok. I want better than that for her. I want her to be healthy and calm. I want her to avoid unnecessary stress. Sure, she can have a relationship with her father and his family, but can't she do it without all the excess trouble?
Ooooooooo kaaaaayyyyyyyyy. I'm going to try and make this a productive post, one that doesn't just turn into an ex-husband-bashing-fest.
Last week Dragonflymama and I co-hosted a discussion between biomoms and stepmoms. Her question to me going into this discussion was, how much do I worry about Grace when she visits with her father and stepmother. The honest answer is, quite a bit. I worry not because I think her father is intentionally harmful or awful, but rather because I think he is ignorant. He's ignorant about things that are important for basic quality of life. His younger kids are chronically ill, so I hear. And Grace is frequently ill when she returns from his house for weekend stays and for longer visits. For more about this, you can read here, here, and here. I don't even waste my energy talking about her stepmother on this issue; clearly her father is somewhat inept, and her stepmother either isn't able to help or isn't willing to help.
The most serious thing that's happened regarding this matter occurred just before I started blogging. In the fall of 8th grade, Grace was at her father's for the weekend and he called Sunday afternoon to say she was sick and could I come get her because he didn't want his other kids catching whatever she had. She had starting vomiting that morning. When he called, she was resting and drinking liquids. Bad, bad, bad. See, she has a chronic condition that is serious but manageable through lifestyle choices. The just-letting-her-drink-liquids-and-rest remedy is bad news for Grace. I drove to his house immediately to pick her up, only to find myself at the ER with her for the next nine hours. All night long, I watched her slumber in fatigue. She was woken up after every 1000 ccs of fluid to have her vitals taken. Three times she stood up, they attempted to take her blood pressure, and she subsequently passed out as I was holding her. Needless to say, she needed a few days to recover. (No, he didn't call that night or in the next few days to find out any news of how she was feeling. She didn't call him either.)
I could seek to stop the risk (that is, the risk as I see it) to Grace through legal means. I could just ask the court to cease all overnight stays with her father and let visitation be limited to day visits. I hesitate to do this. Though it would solve her health risks, her father wouldn't stand for it. When I was divorcing the guy and asking for no overnights, citing potential health risks, her father came at me like a bat out of hell. So did his attorney. I realized, I'm losing this one. No matter how much I think this guy is potentially harming his daughter, the court doesn't agree. They think this guy needs time and opportunity to parent his child, including doing so overnight. So that's it. His right to try and parent in a less-than-optimal way is more important than the potential risk to the child.
He was court-ordered not to smoke in confined spaces with her, nor put her in the situation where anyone else would. Like that piece of paper made any difference...
Next, if I did this, I'd get painted as the evil, evil, evil biomom. Really, I would. Can you imagine what this would come off sounding like? I just don't want to deal with the aftermath. And it's likely that the aftermath would come without any improvement to the situation.
Worst of all, Grace would be furious with me if I tried this. Though of late she's shown somewhat of a cooling off in her affection for her father and her eagerness to be with him, she definitely doesn't want to stop seeing him. Or rather I should say, she doesn't want to stop seeing his family. Over Memorial Day weekend, he and his wife hosted a big bonfire party with his friends. Grace and her two toddler siblings were the only children in attendance. (Bonfire? Children? Am I the only one who finds this odd?) Anyways, she willingly attended and, when it was quite late (11p) and the younger children could stay awake no longer, she took them home, put them to bed, and that was that. When she related the story to me she said it had been a great weekend. She said she thought her father and stepmother came home about 3a, though she wasn't sure. She just knew she woke up at 2a and they weren't home. But she was clear to tell me that they weren't drunk. Yeah, of course they had been drinking but they weren't drunk, she was sure of it...
I feel like I'm allowing Grace to continue staying at a friend's house for sleepover while the friend's parents aren't providing a safe environment for anyone in their home. Yes, the friend may be very sweet, and I don't doubt that Grace is having a good time while visiting, but it just isn't safe. The obvious difference, of course, is that I have (as of now) no right to limit the sleepovers, uh, I mean, overnight visitation with her father so he can have an opportunity to parent.
And really, what am I going to tell the courts that's going to justify my concerns? That my daughter eats too much junk food at her father's house? That she's taking care of younger siblings when her father and stepmother want a night off? That she's not getting enough sleep? When I think about how the affidavit would read, it's a weak case at best. And then there's the expense, both financial and emotional.
I know I sound like a broken record. I keep saying, this co-parenting thing is complete shit and I'm tired of compromising just because the courts say I have to. I am tired of sending my daughter off to this household and hoping she's ok. I want better than that for her. I want her to be healthy and calm. I want her to avoid unnecessary stress. Sure, she can have a relationship with her father and his family, but can't she do it without all the excess trouble?
Wednesday, May 27, 2009
Trolling about
I have a troll. Not here. The trolls have not cruised my blog. No, I have a friend on facebook who is a troll.
The funny thing is, I don't think he knows what it means for me to say he is a troll.
He's the husband of an old friend of mine, a friend I'd rather do without. The last time I had any communication with her, this is what I wrote. Since then I've had a surgery, sold one house and bought another, moved, and gotten pregnant. None of this seemed like something I wanted to share with her. I hope that all of you out there reading are coming to the same conclusion I am: there is no friendship left there.
So back to the trolling husband. He's not a loser, quite the opposite. He's someone who's had life delivered on a silver platter to him, and he likes to think of himself as better than others. He's well educated, comes from a wealthy family, and has settled into quite a comfortable life for himself and his wife and children. Everything is great. Except his personality. He's one of those people who is arrogant to a fault. He sees no reason to be compassionate.
On facebook, I am somewhat cautious with my public comments. The people I want to keep up with are disparate, to say the least. They range from my daughter and a few of her friends to my mother and sisters to friends of my husband that I know only through work to radical bible thumping conservative Christians to radical leftist ACLU-supporting liberals. There's a certain balance I want to maintain in an image that all of these people see publicly. What I say in more homogenous circles to them may be more expressive and opinionated, but I am somewhat cautious in the larger light that is my public facebook image.
Yesterday, when I heard about the decision of the California Supreme Court to uphold the decision of the voters on Proposition 8, I posted the following status message on Facebook:
I couldn't let the comment stand unanswered. I added the comment,
The only thing left to do, I resolved, is to add the application "Send Trolls" and send this guy an orange baby troll. Then I'll modify my facebook settings so he and his wife, my not-really-a-friend, will have a unique group of their own, "trolls," in which they can see very little about me and have no permissions to comment.
The funny thing is, I don't think he knows what it means for me to say he is a troll.
He's the husband of an old friend of mine, a friend I'd rather do without. The last time I had any communication with her, this is what I wrote. Since then I've had a surgery, sold one house and bought another, moved, and gotten pregnant. None of this seemed like something I wanted to share with her. I hope that all of you out there reading are coming to the same conclusion I am: there is no friendship left there.
So back to the trolling husband. He's not a loser, quite the opposite. He's someone who's had life delivered on a silver platter to him, and he likes to think of himself as better than others. He's well educated, comes from a wealthy family, and has settled into quite a comfortable life for himself and his wife and children. Everything is great. Except his personality. He's one of those people who is arrogant to a fault. He sees no reason to be compassionate.
On facebook, I am somewhat cautious with my public comments. The people I want to keep up with are disparate, to say the least. They range from my daughter and a few of her friends to my mother and sisters to friends of my husband that I know only through work to radical bible thumping conservative Christians to radical leftist ACLU-supporting liberals. There's a certain balance I want to maintain in an image that all of these people see publicly. What I say in more homogenous circles to them may be more expressive and opinionated, but I am somewhat cautious in the larger light that is my public facebook image.
Yesterday, when I heard about the decision of the California Supreme Court to uphold the decision of the voters on Proposition 8, I posted the following status message on Facebook:
"Will the state of California recognize same-sex marriages that were performed in other states like Massachusetts or Connecticut?"It was actually a genuine question. I wasn't fishing for comments or trying to stir up controversy. The only comment came from the husband of my not-really-a-friend:
"Is this an issue for you and your husband?"*sigh* Like I said, trolling. More unfortunate, it reveals a sad truth about his values system. Don't stand up for the rights of someone unless you personally stand to lose something.
I couldn't let the comment stand unanswered. I added the comment,
"On many counts, no, but it is a relevant question for other people I know."It's also a relevant question for people I don't know. It is a relevant question period.
The only thing left to do, I resolved, is to add the application "Send Trolls" and send this guy an orange baby troll. Then I'll modify my facebook settings so he and his wife, my not-really-a-friend, will have a unique group of their own, "trolls," in which they can see very little about me and have no permissions to comment.
Monday, May 11, 2009
How to develop pure hatred for stargazer lilies
Since Mother's Day yesterday, I've been noticing stargazer lilies popping up. At Dooce.com, and at Cake Wrecks. There may be more lurking out there. I don't go to church, so I didn't see whether mothers still wear corsages on Mother's Day. But if you went, were some of the mothers wearing stargazer lilies? I have one poignant memory from my past involving stargazer lilies, and it's amazing how from the minute I knew the name of these flowers I had negative associations with them. The event? My first wedding.I was young, 21. I was pregnant, 13 weeks on the wedding day itself. And I had planned a wedding from start to finish in three weeks. I think I would have been happy to just have had a small wedding, family and a few friends, very low key. But the two mothers in the situation, mine and my ex-husband's, both had their reasons for wanting it big. They wanted the full scale thing, no matter how shotgun the situation. So I went down to the David's Bridal outlet warehouse in Hollywood, Florida and picked out a gown that fit reasonably well and could be altered in less than a week. We had 500 invitations printed in lickety split time and sent them out. My family, our family friends, and my and my ex-husband's friends were 100. The other 400 went to my outlaws' pared down list of must-invites (the first list that they faxed contained well over 600 names and addresses). The church and the minister weren't a problem; my ex-father-in-law insisted on performing the ceremony. Bridesmaids' dresses were bought off the rack at Talbots and sent to the relevant sisters and sister-in-law-to-be. My mother arranged for a caterer to put together the details for a reception. I drove from Florida to Texas with my dad and arrived about a week before the wedding. During that week, I found a photographer, a bakery who could whip up a cake and deliver it that day, and a florist. And it was the florist who suggested stargazer lilies.
A classic, he said. They will complement anything, and remain fresh all day long, no matter how high the temperatures reach (over 100F that day, as it turned out). Since the only color being used in the wedding up to that point was green (from the bridesmaids' dresses and the roses on the cake to the decorative ribbons on the rice pouches and the personalized napkins on the tables), the brilliant deep pink of the lilies would add a touch of warmth to the setting. OK, then, stargazer lilies it is. Everywhere. Bridesmaids' bouquets, floral arrangements for the church, centerpieces for the hors d'oeuvres only reception, and the cake topper. I didn't even knew what they looked like before I committed.
My consistent thought during the whole planning process was, just get it over with. How bad can it be? I was task-oriented, dealing with checking items off a list, not worrying about whether the best choices were being made.
Well, the day of the wedding came. The green roses on the cake matched the green of the bridesmaids' dresses. The green was actually teal. Teal roses on the wedding cake. I wish I had pictures left to send to Cake Wrecks. What the hell is a teal rose? My dress had been altered three inches too short and I had to run out at the last minute to a discount shoe store and buy flats. The program for the ceremony was embarrassing; my mother-in-law-to-be who had typed the whole thing up on her laptop and delivered it to Kinko's had included titles for all the family members on her side, but neglected to ask if anyone on my side had titles other than "Mr and Mrs." In addition, she assumed that all married women went by their husband's last name only, of course. My oldest sister was not amused. And then there were the stargazer lilies.
The first of the lilies I saw was the bunch on top of the cake. From a distance they looked nice enough. But as I got closer, I realized, there's some strange smell in the air; what is that? Then came the bridesmaids' bouquets. Stargazer lilies. Dozens of them. They were beautiful, make no mistake. But they were smelly. Really, really smelly. And then I realized, I have chosen to surround myself and everyone I know with flowers that stink. What a lovely aura to create. It got worse, though.
I started sneezing. Yes, that's right, me, the girl who's had allergies and asthma her whole life ordered several hundred, maybe even over a thousand, dollars in flowers, without ever considering whether I might be bothered by their aroma. Or whether they might bother my very allergic mother as well.
Those lilies started looking like big pink spiders to me, crawling out from every crevice, waiting to suck the life out of anything foolish enough to come close. They were deceptively cutesy, what with their pink glow and yellow speckling. But don't you be fooled; these were creatures spawned by the devil himself.
I spent the day red-nosed with a handkerchief in my hand, sneezing every few minutes and trying to ignore the pervasive, stinky, stargazer lily aroma in between nose snorts. When we were outside, the aroma got even stronger, making me almost nauseous. Was it not enough that it was over 100 degrees F, I was in a synthetic floor-length gown, and I was PREGNANT? No, I had to add some horrible scent that I was also allergic to.
Needless to say, I was relieved when, 8 years later, I had a reason to purge my possessions of any sign that the day had ever even taken place. Every picture, every memoir, every gift list, every keepsake, every bit of it went in the trash.
I'm sorry if you are a person who loves stargazer lilies and finds them the most wonderful flower in the entire world. Because I will never, ever, ever enjoy even a photograph of a stargazer lily, much less approach a live one in real life.
As for the rest of the story, for my second wedding, I visited five florists before I chose one. We only needed a bouquet for myself and Grace and four small women's corsages, still, I wanted to make sure it was right. When I finally found the man who designed my bouquet, I knew I had hit the jackpot. Here's what he designed:
Orange tulips surrounded by yellow calla lilies with a hint of a burnt orange/brown edging, all tied up with an orange organza ribbon. Perfect, simple, brilliant.
GORGEOUS.
Friday, May 8, 2009
Hair cut, and get ready for a bulge of posts
I've been in a bit of a dry spell as far as writing goes. Time has been short and the ideas are not really coming. I think that means everything is peachy in my life and that I have nothing of controversy to report. But nonetheless, it's nowhere near as much fun for me seeing as how I don't get to write and I don't get any fun comments from you out there who read this thing.
This is your warning, I think I'm just going to bang out a bunch of these today and post them now. I mean, why keep you guys waiting, huh?
In the meantime, Grace and I both went to get our haircut at the mall yesterday. She, the girl who protested haircuts of any kind until she was at least 6-years-old, the girl who previously had never had a haircut that cost over $12, the girl who conceded only to have her hair cut once in any 12-month span, she has quickly become quite addicted to the whole salon thing. Now she wants me to buy a styling product at $15 a pop once a month, insisting that she needs that much and that particular product. I told her she better start saving her babysitting money, then.
Me? I'm back to my old self. I told the stylist I wanted something short, very short, kind of a pixie cut that doesn't require me to do too much fuss with the front of my hair. When I think of what I don't want, think: Kate Gosselin. How does she manage to do that much to her hair every day anyway? Isn't the whole point of going short so that you have less to mess with?
The end result I like very much:
Simple, practical, fuss-free. And I require way less styling product than Grace. Kudos for the budget. I beat her hands down. And just in case you guys think it, I am not going to replace my pedestrian specs and go for big, chunky, funky eyeglasses. Yes, such eyeglasses would make a statement, but they would also get in the way of my seeing insomuch as I would constantly be seeing the rims in my peripheral vision, not the world. So this is much makeover as I'm subjecting myself to for this season.
This is your warning, I think I'm just going to bang out a bunch of these today and post them now. I mean, why keep you guys waiting, huh?
In the meantime, Grace and I both went to get our haircut at the mall yesterday. She, the girl who protested haircuts of any kind until she was at least 6-years-old, the girl who previously had never had a haircut that cost over $12, the girl who conceded only to have her hair cut once in any 12-month span, she has quickly become quite addicted to the whole salon thing. Now she wants me to buy a styling product at $15 a pop once a month, insisting that she needs that much and that particular product. I told her she better start saving her babysitting money, then.
Me? I'm back to my old self. I told the stylist I wanted something short, very short, kind of a pixie cut that doesn't require me to do too much fuss with the front of my hair. When I think of what I don't want, think: Kate Gosselin. How does she manage to do that much to her hair every day anyway? Isn't the whole point of going short so that you have less to mess with?
The end result I like very much:
Simple, practical, fuss-free. And I require way less styling product than Grace. Kudos for the budget. I beat her hands down. And just in case you guys think it, I am not going to replace my pedestrian specs and go for big, chunky, funky eyeglasses. Yes, such eyeglasses would make a statement, but they would also get in the way of my seeing insomuch as I would constantly be seeing the rims in my peripheral vision, not the world. So this is much makeover as I'm subjecting myself to for this season.
Tuesday, April 28, 2009
Texas
I lived in Texas for 9 years. I'm not a native Texan. I came to "God's Chosen Land" as an 18-year-old freshman to Baylor University in Waco. I had no idea what Texas was really all about before that. Nine years later I left and moved to Michigan, a state I had never been to before.
I know I would have never fit in Texas. I came, I saw, I left. The native Texans have got something they love. Some people go there and love it and stay forever. And then there's people like me -- people who go there and realize it's not quite right for them and leave quietly so as not to offend all those who are around them. Amidst all the slogans that go around about Texas (like "Don't Mess With Texas"), it seems like I recall one that was something like "Love it or leave it." Or is that United States? I can't remember. But that's kind of how I took Texas in -- people really, really love that place. But I didn't. So I left.
Given all this background, and given that I know some of my bloggy friends and readers are in Texas, I approach the next topic with light, careful steps and slight trepidation.
What's up with all the secession talk? I thought it was a weird blip on the radar on tax day when Governor Perry mentioned it at the Tea Party in Austin. I thought it was just a misunderstanding, what with him saying that Texas should secede and all. But then I read this piece today at NPR's website. Talk about vehement. It sounds like this was written by a poor soul who once upon a time was forced to live in Texas, ridiculed during the entire stay, and ultimately fled over the border to safety with only the clothes on his back and his life.
The friends I have from Texas are sort of on the down low about this. One friend, who lives in Germany now, started a comment thread on his facebook page that got over 30 comments in the first day. I couldn't tell whether Texans were happy about this or not.
Like I said, I never fit in. So if I was living in Texas right now and I really thought the state would secede from the Union, I would start packing up my things quietly and shipping them northward in a clandestine manner and then when the time was right, slip out like the von Trapp family over the border to Oklahoma, towards Missouri. It's not that I don't love the Texans; it's just that I always found this secession talk a little, well, irrational. It was usually littered with hoots and hollers and "YEAH!!!"s by men holding cans of beers.
But there's another side of Texas, I'm sure. So...what's up? Is the governor serious? Is his constituency? What is going on? (I know Texas is the only state in the Union that is currently experiencing economic growth, so I could see where it might be difficult for some to understand the perspective of the rest of the country.)
Friday, April 24, 2009
Well, hello again.
So, sorry, that was a bit of a break, wasn't it? It was the result of a conspiracy of too many thoughts running through my head, too many logistical details making it difficult to post, and a difficulty putting words together that expressed myself adequately.
Where to start? I guess I should start with, nothing's wrong. The pregnancy is going well. We picked a name *I think.* The first name came quickly, but a second name was a pain. See, we have to pick names that not only go together, but that create a somewhat normal flow from surname to surname. My last name is about as English as you can get and my husband's is about as Latin as you can get. So our kid's name has to go first-name, middle-name, English-name, Latin-name. And it all has to be pronouncable (yes, I say that that's a word) in English and in Portuguese and is has to sound nice in both languages and it has to flow in both languages. Anyways, we seem to have met all those criteria and I think it's all good. More details on that little girl on Sunday for The Weekly Slug.
As for what's been going on otherwise, I'll just pick up with Grace and her father, my ex-husband. Easter sucked, as it always does. Grace always spends it with her father. As far as I ever knew, her father could care less about the holiday. But Grace's stepmother loves it. So for the most part, it's out of the question for Grace not to spend Easter with her father and stepmother. That led me to a couple realizations. First, I'm really sick of sharing my daughter's time. She's my daughter and I think it's normal for a parent to want to spend the holidays with their kid. Divorce screws all that up. I'm just supposed to accept that and get over it and just be happy. So is Grace and so is her father (who, remember, I don't think really cares that much about seeing his kid anyways; more on that a bit later). I guess this is why some couples figure it's better to stay together than split up. Whatever. It sucks. It really, really sucks. And I'm just tired of it. It won't ever get better with Grace, I'll just be sharing her with other people for the rest of my life. It's just part of the sucking suckiness that is the world I lived in long ago with my ex-husband. Sucks.
Then there's the other half of this. I've written before about how sick I am of Grace's father not calling and communicating about wanting to see Grace, and then expecting everyone to just drop everything when he does get around to placing a call. And I've had more than one person tell me it's my responsibility to make sure Grace sees her father no matter how much of a slacker he is. So instead of me waiting for him to confirm a visit and assuming it's off and waiting until Grace desperately calls him and asks if he's going to spend time with her and he calls acting like that was his intention all along, I should be taking care of everything and walking him through the process, and play like I'm still his helpful mate. Hm. I've finally put two and two together as to why this bothers me so much.
Grace's father is not so bad. He's kept the same job for the last ten years. He's never been arrested. He doesn't gripe about paying child support. He isn't mean or abusive to Grace, nor is anyone else he's exposing Grace to, to the best of my knowledge. This doesn't mean I think everything he does is terrific, it just means he could be way worse. However, there's one very useful skill he's developed over his lifetime that is very clever, and one I'm not so keen on. He knows how to not lift more fingers than he has to and make other people do his work for him. And for some reason, many people, myself included, feel like it's no big deal to pick up the slack where he leaves off. I'll give an example to illustrate the point.
Last week while Grace was staying with him at his house, he called me at 10p. Everyone was up -- him, his wife, two toddlers, Grace, two dogs, the tv, you name it. I was surprised. Except for Grace, they all had to go to daycare and work the next day. The next night when Grace returned home, Grace told me that her plan for the day had been to sleep in and when she woke up after everyone else had left the house, she was supposed to call her grandmother to come pick her up and spend the day at her grandmother's house. But that's not what happened. Instead what happened was that the parents woke up late without time to get the toddlers up and ready, or time to drive them to school and make it in to work themselves. So Grace's father called his mother and asked her to come over, get the kids ready, and take them to daycare so he and his wife could leave for work right away. The inconvenience to Grace was that her grandmother said she wouldn't make two trips to the house, so Grace would need to get up and be ready to go for the day when she got there.
It might have been a one time occurrence, I agree. Maybe. But I've known the guy for almost 20 years. This is pretty much how he operates. He screws up, and then he calls on other people to help him out. Once in awhile would be ok, but all the time gets tiring. In my experience, he doesn't really reciprocate the favors.
So I was married to this guy for over 8 years. Did I put up with this? Hell, yes. Way too much. I learned to figure out how to get him to do what I needed him to do. And I never assumed he would do more. The week we separated, I had an a-ha moment of just how much I carried him due to his own negligence to keep track of stuff. The deadline for his financial aid form was due for his grad school tuition that week. I knew it, because I kept track of all that stuff. I always showed it to him, but he didn't keep track of it himself at all. I thought about calling him and reminding him, walking him through the process, coddling him as I had done for so many years. And then suddenly I realized, no, I don't need to do this anymore. He's a grown-up, over 30 years old. He can take care of his own grad school tuition. After all, I'm definitely not going to be here forever. I don't know what the result was, but I felt foolish at that moment realizing how much I had taken care of and looked out for. The guy didn't know much of what was going on at school with his daughter, didn't know about the maintenance on the only car we owned, didn't know anything about our finances. The only thing he did know was how to get cash out of an ATM so that his spending wouldn't leave a paper trail.
Back to Grace. Recently Grace's father has been less than able to keep up with his visitation schedule. In the last couple months, for the first time, Grace decided just not to worry about calling him and arranging visitation. Sure enough, we heard not a word from him until the evening of the first night he was supposed to spend with her. I don't know what he told her, but he assured her that he would be there to pick her up that Friday for the weekend. And that he did -- 3 hours late. The next weeknight that he was scheduled to spend with her, again, we didn't hear from him until late the night before. He talked to her first and gave her some explanation as to why he wouldn't see her. She said fine and handed the phone to me. I talked about Easter weekend and Grace's spring break with him and that was that. By the time spring break was over and the event of the "calling grandma over to pick up the slack" occurred, I realized what has been bothering me for so long. It's everyone around this guy, including his daughter, accommodating his behavior and acting as if it's acceptable. The everyone else is their own choice. But my daughter? No.
That's the core of it. I want my daughter to not accept that she has to give and give and give in a relationship, doing what the other person can't (or won't) do. Part of the reason she still sees him at all is because other adults in his life have carried him - his mother, his wife. But I think it has to stop when it comes to your kids. The bottom line is, I don't want my daughter to learn that a relationship is supposed to be one person giving and striving and yearning and desiring while the other person just treats the whole thing like easy come, easy go. It's dysfunctional, at best.
Imagine if this scenario was your kid in a relationship with a boyfriend or girlfriend. Your kid places all the calls, waits around for hours until the significant other bothers to show up, accepts every explanation imaginable for being late or standing her up, always expects that plans can be made at the spur of the moment...
Would you be happy? I wouldn't. I'd tell my kid to get out of the relationship because this person was completely walking all over them, taking advantage of their affections, and giving nothing in return.
But yet Grace's father is teaching her that it's ok for her to be treated this way. Yeah, I put up with it, and I learned my lesson the hard way. But you know what? I think that my gained experience should count for something in how I parent my daughter.
So I finally answered (a big part of) the question of why I dislike Grace's stepmother and why I wish she would go away. Because she's an enabler. She makes it possible for Grace's father to be in Grace's life, and for him to implicitly teach Grace that she should put up with his negligence and pick up the slack. And there's a good chance that if Grace puts up with his behavior, he won't be the last person she does it for.
Sorry to come back on such a sour note, but it had to be gotten off my chest.
**************
AN ADDENDUM
One more thought I had after rereading this. I ended this post sounding like I blame this whole thing on Grace's stepmother. Oh, no. No, that would get Grace's father off the hook far too easily. He's the one who's the big screw up, the one who's being a jerk in his relationship with his daughter. I'm just sick of other people around him (his mother, his wife) putting up with it and continuing the cycle of women who learn to tolerate this kind of behavior from a man. For my daughter's sake, I'd just as soon these women would wise up or move to a place away from influence over my daughter.
Where to start? I guess I should start with, nothing's wrong. The pregnancy is going well. We picked a name *I think.* The first name came quickly, but a second name was a pain. See, we have to pick names that not only go together, but that create a somewhat normal flow from surname to surname. My last name is about as English as you can get and my husband's is about as Latin as you can get. So our kid's name has to go first-name, middle-name, English-name, Latin-name. And it all has to be pronouncable (yes, I say that that's a word) in English and in Portuguese and is has to sound nice in both languages and it has to flow in both languages. Anyways, we seem to have met all those criteria and I think it's all good. More details on that little girl on Sunday for The Weekly Slug.
As for what's been going on otherwise, I'll just pick up with Grace and her father, my ex-husband. Easter sucked, as it always does. Grace always spends it with her father. As far as I ever knew, her father could care less about the holiday. But Grace's stepmother loves it. So for the most part, it's out of the question for Grace not to spend Easter with her father and stepmother. That led me to a couple realizations. First, I'm really sick of sharing my daughter's time. She's my daughter and I think it's normal for a parent to want to spend the holidays with their kid. Divorce screws all that up. I'm just supposed to accept that and get over it and just be happy. So is Grace and so is her father (who, remember, I don't think really cares that much about seeing his kid anyways; more on that a bit later). I guess this is why some couples figure it's better to stay together than split up. Whatever. It sucks. It really, really sucks. And I'm just tired of it. It won't ever get better with Grace, I'll just be sharing her with other people for the rest of my life. It's just part of the sucking suckiness that is the world I lived in long ago with my ex-husband. Sucks.
Then there's the other half of this. I've written before about how sick I am of Grace's father not calling and communicating about wanting to see Grace, and then expecting everyone to just drop everything when he does get around to placing a call. And I've had more than one person tell me it's my responsibility to make sure Grace sees her father no matter how much of a slacker he is. So instead of me waiting for him to confirm a visit and assuming it's off and waiting until Grace desperately calls him and asks if he's going to spend time with her and he calls acting like that was his intention all along, I should be taking care of everything and walking him through the process, and play like I'm still his helpful mate. Hm. I've finally put two and two together as to why this bothers me so much.
Grace's father is not so bad. He's kept the same job for the last ten years. He's never been arrested. He doesn't gripe about paying child support. He isn't mean or abusive to Grace, nor is anyone else he's exposing Grace to, to the best of my knowledge. This doesn't mean I think everything he does is terrific, it just means he could be way worse. However, there's one very useful skill he's developed over his lifetime that is very clever, and one I'm not so keen on. He knows how to not lift more fingers than he has to and make other people do his work for him. And for some reason, many people, myself included, feel like it's no big deal to pick up the slack where he leaves off. I'll give an example to illustrate the point.
Last week while Grace was staying with him at his house, he called me at 10p. Everyone was up -- him, his wife, two toddlers, Grace, two dogs, the tv, you name it. I was surprised. Except for Grace, they all had to go to daycare and work the next day. The next night when Grace returned home, Grace told me that her plan for the day had been to sleep in and when she woke up after everyone else had left the house, she was supposed to call her grandmother to come pick her up and spend the day at her grandmother's house. But that's not what happened. Instead what happened was that the parents woke up late without time to get the toddlers up and ready, or time to drive them to school and make it in to work themselves. So Grace's father called his mother and asked her to come over, get the kids ready, and take them to daycare so he and his wife could leave for work right away. The inconvenience to Grace was that her grandmother said she wouldn't make two trips to the house, so Grace would need to get up and be ready to go for the day when she got there.
It might have been a one time occurrence, I agree. Maybe. But I've known the guy for almost 20 years. This is pretty much how he operates. He screws up, and then he calls on other people to help him out. Once in awhile would be ok, but all the time gets tiring. In my experience, he doesn't really reciprocate the favors.
So I was married to this guy for over 8 years. Did I put up with this? Hell, yes. Way too much. I learned to figure out how to get him to do what I needed him to do. And I never assumed he would do more. The week we separated, I had an a-ha moment of just how much I carried him due to his own negligence to keep track of stuff. The deadline for his financial aid form was due for his grad school tuition that week. I knew it, because I kept track of all that stuff. I always showed it to him, but he didn't keep track of it himself at all. I thought about calling him and reminding him, walking him through the process, coddling him as I had done for so many years. And then suddenly I realized, no, I don't need to do this anymore. He's a grown-up, over 30 years old. He can take care of his own grad school tuition. After all, I'm definitely not going to be here forever. I don't know what the result was, but I felt foolish at that moment realizing how much I had taken care of and looked out for. The guy didn't know much of what was going on at school with his daughter, didn't know about the maintenance on the only car we owned, didn't know anything about our finances. The only thing he did know was how to get cash out of an ATM so that his spending wouldn't leave a paper trail.
Back to Grace. Recently Grace's father has been less than able to keep up with his visitation schedule. In the last couple months, for the first time, Grace decided just not to worry about calling him and arranging visitation. Sure enough, we heard not a word from him until the evening of the first night he was supposed to spend with her. I don't know what he told her, but he assured her that he would be there to pick her up that Friday for the weekend. And that he did -- 3 hours late. The next weeknight that he was scheduled to spend with her, again, we didn't hear from him until late the night before. He talked to her first and gave her some explanation as to why he wouldn't see her. She said fine and handed the phone to me. I talked about Easter weekend and Grace's spring break with him and that was that. By the time spring break was over and the event of the "calling grandma over to pick up the slack" occurred, I realized what has been bothering me for so long. It's everyone around this guy, including his daughter, accommodating his behavior and acting as if it's acceptable. The everyone else is their own choice. But my daughter? No.
That's the core of it. I want my daughter to not accept that she has to give and give and give in a relationship, doing what the other person can't (or won't) do. Part of the reason she still sees him at all is because other adults in his life have carried him - his mother, his wife. But I think it has to stop when it comes to your kids. The bottom line is, I don't want my daughter to learn that a relationship is supposed to be one person giving and striving and yearning and desiring while the other person just treats the whole thing like easy come, easy go. It's dysfunctional, at best.
Imagine if this scenario was your kid in a relationship with a boyfriend or girlfriend. Your kid places all the calls, waits around for hours until the significant other bothers to show up, accepts every explanation imaginable for being late or standing her up, always expects that plans can be made at the spur of the moment...
Would you be happy? I wouldn't. I'd tell my kid to get out of the relationship because this person was completely walking all over them, taking advantage of their affections, and giving nothing in return.
But yet Grace's father is teaching her that it's ok for her to be treated this way. Yeah, I put up with it, and I learned my lesson the hard way. But you know what? I think that my gained experience should count for something in how I parent my daughter.
So I finally answered (a big part of) the question of why I dislike Grace's stepmother and why I wish she would go away. Because she's an enabler. She makes it possible for Grace's father to be in Grace's life, and for him to implicitly teach Grace that she should put up with his negligence and pick up the slack. And there's a good chance that if Grace puts up with his behavior, he won't be the last person she does it for.
Sorry to come back on such a sour note, but it had to be gotten off my chest.
**************
AN ADDENDUM
One more thought I had after rereading this. I ended this post sounding like I blame this whole thing on Grace's stepmother. Oh, no. No, that would get Grace's father off the hook far too easily. He's the one who's the big screw up, the one who's being a jerk in his relationship with his daughter. I'm just sick of other people around him (his mother, his wife) putting up with it and continuing the cycle of women who learn to tolerate this kind of behavior from a man. For my daughter's sake, I'd just as soon these women would wise up or move to a place away from influence over my daughter.
Tuesday, April 14, 2009
One more try at bringing awareness to discrimination
How much do you spend at amazon.com every year? A lot? I know I do. I spend a whole heck of a lot of money there. It's things I would buy elsewhere, but because I can find it at amazon for less money, a lot of times they get my money. This goes for everything from my daughter's books for gifts (4 so far this year) to mp3 downloads (over 100 so far this year). And I'm an academic. I've got a truckload of local bookstores I could buy from, and I buy a lot of books every year. I most recently bought a copy of the Twilight DVD for Grace from Amazon.
Check this out: Amazon is making books and media with any positive reference to gay or lesbian content, or those written by known gay or lesbian authors, invisible to searches and sales rank status. You can read a nice short synopsis of the issue here, and read Mark Probst's post about the issue on his blog here. In short, if you do a search at Amazon.com for anything about gays or lesbians, you won't find anything positive, only anti-gay propaganda.
Who cares, really? I mean, what difference does it make? It makes a huge difference. From everything to depriving authors of sales to limiting information available to the public, it makes a big difference.
Amazon.com has the right to do it. They have to right to limit their inventory, bar consumers from seeing certain things, and to classify gay and lesbian literature as "adult material." This includes things like a book by Ellen Degeneres, regardless of what the central topic of the book is.
But you have a right to know. And you have the right to choose whether you will continue to shop there. At least let your voice be heard if you find this unacceptable. Do something. If you sit back and do nothing, you are saying that this kind of discrimination is ok.
Check this out: Amazon is making books and media with any positive reference to gay or lesbian content, or those written by known gay or lesbian authors, invisible to searches and sales rank status. You can read a nice short synopsis of the issue here, and read Mark Probst's post about the issue on his blog here. In short, if you do a search at Amazon.com for anything about gays or lesbians, you won't find anything positive, only anti-gay propaganda.
Who cares, really? I mean, what difference does it make? It makes a huge difference. From everything to depriving authors of sales to limiting information available to the public, it makes a big difference.
Amazon.com has the right to do it. They have to right to limit their inventory, bar consumers from seeing certain things, and to classify gay and lesbian literature as "adult material." This includes things like a book by Ellen Degeneres, regardless of what the central topic of the book is.
But you have a right to know. And you have the right to choose whether you will continue to shop there. At least let your voice be heard if you find this unacceptable. Do something. If you sit back and do nothing, you are saying that this kind of discrimination is ok.
Monday, April 6, 2009
Parents' rights
This is going to be along the lines of setting a few basic things straight. Things brought up by the Palin family drama.
In case you haven't caught the recent news, Bristol Palin, teenage mother of 3-month-old Tripp, has broken up with Tripp's dad, Levi. Bristol, young and not yet in possession of a high school diploma or equivalency, is living at home and asking for help raising Tripp from her family. Lately Levi has been saying he's not allowed to see his child as much as he likes. And to add more drama to the situation, Bristol's mom Sarah not only backs up her daughter's decision not to let Levi see the baby more often, she says he's a liar about stating that the family knew the two teens were having sex and that he was allowed to stay at the Palin household in the days leading up to the birth of his child.
When I put it like that, it sounds like a great weekly drama series, huh? And think, I didn't even have to mention the part about how these people are getting their more than 15 minutes of fame out of the whole thing!
As I understand it, here are a few problems with the scenario from a legal standpoint.
Are we to believe that fathers are unimportant? That they should be kept out of sight? That they should only be permitted to see their children when a mother says it's ok? No, no more so than mothers should be treated this way.
Where are the pro bono family attorneys in Alaska? And why isn't one of them representing this father? A father who is being deprived of the right to see his child? A father who is being forced to allow all decisions regarding his child's welfare up to the other parent? Um...am I the only one here who thinks that most of the media is focused too much on who the players are and not enough of basic rights of parents, no matter how young they are? Why are the rights of this father, who is a legal adult, less important the rights of this mother?
Regardless of whether you think this family are a bunch of rednecks or the most moral family on the face of the planet, clearly they are in need of some intervention from the state family courts. Children's parenting should not be left up to their most wealthy and most powerful family members.
***A brief disclaimer - yeah, I'm a blogger, and yeah, I'm writing about Sarah Palin. That puts me at risk for being called a liar. But she's already called me and my kind a bunch of liars, so what have I got to lose? Nothing, but I think this young baby has a lot to lose if no one says anything. Since clearly no one in Tripp's family seems to understand the legality of custody, I figured someone had to say something. Hopefully even while Sarah's going around calling everyone a liar, she'll realize that her grandson would do best to have a father who's allowed to be involved.***
In case you haven't caught the recent news, Bristol Palin, teenage mother of 3-month-old Tripp, has broken up with Tripp's dad, Levi. Bristol, young and not yet in possession of a high school diploma or equivalency, is living at home and asking for help raising Tripp from her family. Lately Levi has been saying he's not allowed to see his child as much as he likes. And to add more drama to the situation, Bristol's mom Sarah not only backs up her daughter's decision not to let Levi see the baby more often, she says he's a liar about stating that the family knew the two teens were having sex and that he was allowed to stay at the Palin household in the days leading up to the birth of his child.
When I put it like that, it sounds like a great weekly drama series, huh? And think, I didn't even have to mention the part about how these people are getting their more than 15 minutes of fame out of the whole thing!
As I understand it, here are a few problems with the scenario from a legal standpoint.
- The father of this infant son, Levi Johnston, has a legal right to see his son. He has that right whether or not he is in a relationship with the child's mother and whether or not he is deemed responsible or honest by the mother's family.
- In fact, as many have pointed out incorrectly, he has a right to see his son whether or not he can afford child support. Family courts in the United States are quick to point out to those who don't understand this idea, the right of a parent to see their child is in no way affected by a non-custodial parent's ability to pay child support. The two are not contingent upon one another. Quite the opposite, a custodial parent (Bristol, apparently by default, in this case) can be held in contempt of court if they refuse visitation to the other parent on the basis of non-payment of child support. Don't get me wrong, parents should provide financial support to children. But this is not part of the picture when discussing whether parents should be able to see their children.
- The grandparent of a child has no pre-eminent right to decisions about that child's welfare over either of the child's parents. So in this case, Sarah appears to be overstepping her boundaries. It appears that she takes her own decisions and the decisions of her daughter, the child's mother, to outweigh the decisions of the child's father.
Are we to believe that fathers are unimportant? That they should be kept out of sight? That they should only be permitted to see their children when a mother says it's ok? No, no more so than mothers should be treated this way.
Where are the pro bono family attorneys in Alaska? And why isn't one of them representing this father? A father who is being deprived of the right to see his child? A father who is being forced to allow all decisions regarding his child's welfare up to the other parent? Um...am I the only one here who thinks that most of the media is focused too much on who the players are and not enough of basic rights of parents, no matter how young they are? Why are the rights of this father, who is a legal adult, less important the rights of this mother?
Regardless of whether you think this family are a bunch of rednecks or the most moral family on the face of the planet, clearly they are in need of some intervention from the state family courts. Children's parenting should not be left up to their most wealthy and most powerful family members.
***A brief disclaimer - yeah, I'm a blogger, and yeah, I'm writing about Sarah Palin. That puts me at risk for being called a liar. But she's already called me and my kind a bunch of liars, so what have I got to lose? Nothing, but I think this young baby has a lot to lose if no one says anything. Since clearly no one in Tripp's family seems to understand the legality of custody, I figured someone had to say something. Hopefully even while Sarah's going around calling everyone a liar, she'll realize that her grandson would do best to have a father who's allowed to be involved.***
Thursday, April 2, 2009
While I'm at it, on a less important note...
I have been reading the news today. The questions are looming:
I agree. Hands off my reproductive system. Could the critics of the Democratic Party at least be consistent in their message and include this very obvious omission in their platform? The government should have no right to tell anyone whether they can use a contraceptive or whether they can end a pregnancy. Oh, and I got news for you if you're a Republican because you think they are the most moral party -- WAKE UP. The party officials succeeded in duping you into believing they really care about life more than the other party just so they could get your vote while smearing dirt all over most of the issues that actually protect the sanctity and dignity of life.
Sorry, I'm just very sensitive about it right now. I keep getting the pro-lifers in my life throwing my pregnancy in my face and telling me, see? It's a baby, isn't it? Don't you think it would be immoral for anyone to think of killing it? Well, no, I don't. Not when women aren't being given the information they need to prevent unwanted pregnancies, nor the needed availability of desired contraceptives that are FDA approved. And tell me this, if you knew your child had a genetic disorder that they would die from at birth, who is that child's next of kin who decides whether life support should be continued? Is it ethical to mandate that a woman give birth to a child only to watch that child die within minutes? I dare you to see if you can work in a clause that allows a woman to make this difficult decision while also banning abortion.
Just because I have a personal view about myself and my pregnancies and my children does not mean that view extends to all women in all circumstances. How is that so hard to understand?
- As the G20 summit in London wraps up, are we averting a global recession?
- Chrysler and GM are in trouble. Big trouble. What's the solution?
- The unemployment numbers are coming out tomorrow. Will they be as bad as all are fearing?
- (I think I'm getting this right) The federal tax on a single pack of cigarettes just went up 62 cents to a total of $1 for each pack. So for roughly every cigarette smoked in the United States now, Uncle Sam gets 5 cents. Is this just a clever way to make sure smokers will stay in the hole financially while the federal government raises much needed capital for its spending endeavors?
I agree. Hands off my reproductive system. Could the critics of the Democratic Party at least be consistent in their message and include this very obvious omission in their platform? The government should have no right to tell anyone whether they can use a contraceptive or whether they can end a pregnancy. Oh, and I got news for you if you're a Republican because you think they are the most moral party -- WAKE UP. The party officials succeeded in duping you into believing they really care about life more than the other party just so they could get your vote while smearing dirt all over most of the issues that actually protect the sanctity and dignity of life.
Sorry, I'm just very sensitive about it right now. I keep getting the pro-lifers in my life throwing my pregnancy in my face and telling me, see? It's a baby, isn't it? Don't you think it would be immoral for anyone to think of killing it? Well, no, I don't. Not when women aren't being given the information they need to prevent unwanted pregnancies, nor the needed availability of desired contraceptives that are FDA approved. And tell me this, if you knew your child had a genetic disorder that they would die from at birth, who is that child's next of kin who decides whether life support should be continued? Is it ethical to mandate that a woman give birth to a child only to watch that child die within minutes? I dare you to see if you can work in a clause that allows a woman to make this difficult decision while also banning abortion.
Just because I have a personal view about myself and my pregnancies and my children does not mean that view extends to all women in all circumstances. How is that so hard to understand?
For a reminder of what it takes to be a good citizen
Since President Obama was elected, I'm sorry to say I haven't posted anything about anything political here. All for the best, I suppose, since the blog is supposed to be focused on my role as a mother, my self-reflection, my growth as a human being, blah, blah, blah. But part of who I am is about what it takes to do what's right. It's not easy. I don't do it. No one finds it natural. You have to look yourself in the mirror and make the tough choices to do what's right. Which leads me back to the political climate in the United States.
While we've all been navel-gazing and thinking about the economy, we forgot about some important issues. Things like human rights and worldwide suffering and war. Oh, and torture. I know I haven't thought about it in awhile. So here to catch us up is our favorite female political pundit...RAY-chel-MAAAAAAD-doooooooowwwwwwwwwww-uh!
Love her. Oh, but don't get distracted and miss what she has to say. Torture, wrong. US officials still in the justice department guilty. We should be outraged. If you are outraged, do something about it. Now.
While we've all been navel-gazing and thinking about the economy, we forgot about some important issues. Things like human rights and worldwide suffering and war. Oh, and torture. I know I haven't thought about it in awhile. So here to catch us up is our favorite female political pundit...RAY-chel-MAAAAAAD-doooooooowwwwwwwwwww-uh!
Visit msnbc.com for Breaking News, World News, and News about the Economy
Love her. Oh, but don't get distracted and miss what she has to say. Torture, wrong. US officials still in the justice department guilty. We should be outraged. If you are outraged, do something about it. Now.
Sunday, March 29, 2009
The Weekly Slug: 17 weeks
And...this week I got a few little pitters in the inside. That was nice. But given what else has transpired this week, I can completely believe that I can't tell up from down when it comes to what I feel physically. When I realized the little pitters were indeed the tiny movements of a tiny person inside of my belly, it had already been going on for two hours. Yes, two hours. How's that for oblivious? Not just that, I can't even tell a muscle strain from gas anymore.
Early Monday morning I had a pain in my lower abdomen. Not a bad pain, not like something you go to the ER for, but a constant pain. It kept me from moving around. Given that constipation has been a regular issue during this pregnancy, I went to work. Extra doses of magnesium (can't hurt anything), milkshakes with flaxseed and prunes, raisin bran with bananas, and lots and lots of water. Still, nothing. The pain stubbornly remained in the same place. I started thinking crazy things, like maybe this slug has got its foot pushed up against my colon and that gas bubble can't out get for anything. Right. Like the tiny, tiny foot attached to a tiny, tiny leg of someone who doesn't even weigh 5 ounces could possibly put enough pressure on my colon to overpower my involuntary muscles and trap something.
I was quite regular throughout Monday and Tuesday. Still, nagging pain in my lower right abdomen below my pregnant belly. Then I started getting curious. Where is a baby located relative to my internal organs? Do I even know? Well, here we are at 17 weeks and, except for a few centimeters of growth, this is roughly what a baby looks like inside:
See how the stomach, small intestines, and colon are all above said baby? Seems highly unlikely that the pain on my right side below my baby belly was gas then, eh?
And then I started noticing that it was difficult to stand up using my legs because it triggered the pain in this spot (so much for using your legs instead of your back for lifting). Sitting up without using my arms also caused pain in the same spot. Leaning over and then standing back up. The final straw was when, while shaving in the tub, I realized I had pain when I lifted my leg. Um, yeah. I had strained a muscle or something. I felt really goofy. I could have just taken some tylenol and relaxed.
It could have been worse. I could have called the doctor about this pain. I could have gotten all worried and panicked over nothing. At least I stayed cool.
In unrelated news, I am wondering how much it will cost to give birth to this baby. I mean in terms of dollars and cents as they are spelled out in hospital bills. Any ideas? I'm fortunate enough to have good insurance, and lucky enough to have had two surgeries under that insurance. So I know that despite the outrageous prices that hospitals charge, much of it will likely be covered. Still, there's stuff I don't know about like cesarean surgery and staying at the hospital and me and a baby and not just me. And usually things like childbirth aren't covered as broadly as non-elective surgeries, right? So I'm just wondering what this is going to look like when the final bill comes home.
Tomorrow at 7a we have an appointment to have an ultrasound. Provided the slug is cooperative, we'll get to find out whether this is a boy or a girl. So in response to this week's edition of The Slug, you need to voice your opinion. Shall I wait an entire week to post any pictures and news of gender in the next edition, or shall I post a special edition as soon as I am able?
Early Monday morning I had a pain in my lower abdomen. Not a bad pain, not like something you go to the ER for, but a constant pain. It kept me from moving around. Given that constipation has been a regular issue during this pregnancy, I went to work. Extra doses of magnesium (can't hurt anything), milkshakes with flaxseed and prunes, raisin bran with bananas, and lots and lots of water. Still, nothing. The pain stubbornly remained in the same place. I started thinking crazy things, like maybe this slug has got its foot pushed up against my colon and that gas bubble can't out get for anything. Right. Like the tiny, tiny foot attached to a tiny, tiny leg of someone who doesn't even weigh 5 ounces could possibly put enough pressure on my colon to overpower my involuntary muscles and trap something.
I was quite regular throughout Monday and Tuesday. Still, nagging pain in my lower right abdomen below my pregnant belly. Then I started getting curious. Where is a baby located relative to my internal organs? Do I even know? Well, here we are at 17 weeks and, except for a few centimeters of growth, this is roughly what a baby looks like inside:
See how the stomach, small intestines, and colon are all above said baby? Seems highly unlikely that the pain on my right side below my baby belly was gas then, eh?
And then I started noticing that it was difficult to stand up using my legs because it triggered the pain in this spot (so much for using your legs instead of your back for lifting). Sitting up without using my arms also caused pain in the same spot. Leaning over and then standing back up. The final straw was when, while shaving in the tub, I realized I had pain when I lifted my leg. Um, yeah. I had strained a muscle or something. I felt really goofy. I could have just taken some tylenol and relaxed.
It could have been worse. I could have called the doctor about this pain. I could have gotten all worried and panicked over nothing. At least I stayed cool.
In unrelated news, I am wondering how much it will cost to give birth to this baby. I mean in terms of dollars and cents as they are spelled out in hospital bills. Any ideas? I'm fortunate enough to have good insurance, and lucky enough to have had two surgeries under that insurance. So I know that despite the outrageous prices that hospitals charge, much of it will likely be covered. Still, there's stuff I don't know about like cesarean surgery and staying at the hospital and me and a baby and not just me. And usually things like childbirth aren't covered as broadly as non-elective surgeries, right? So I'm just wondering what this is going to look like when the final bill comes home.
Tomorrow at 7a we have an appointment to have an ultrasound. Provided the slug is cooperative, we'll get to find out whether this is a boy or a girl. So in response to this week's edition of The Slug, you need to voice your opinion. Shall I wait an entire week to post any pictures and news of gender in the next edition, or shall I post a special edition as soon as I am able?
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