Unplanned Parenthood

Personal Day

I decided to take a personal day today, a mental health day, if you will.  Jack is with his dad this weekend, so I dropped him off at daycare and I have the whole day to myself.  I refuse to boot up my work laptop, refuse to look at my Treo.  I will, however, have another iced coffee, thankyouverymuch.

My grand plan today is to make it to my dr. appointment at noon and then get a pedicure while reading US Weekly and People.  I think I'm going to choose a deep cherry red color for my toes.  And I hope that's the hardest decision I have to make all day.

I'm kind of still processing the dissolution of my marriage (did you know that's currently the "correct" term for divorce?  True story.) and I want to give myself the opportunity to just be for a day.  I feel good about everything, but it doesn't mean I'm not a little sad.  It's the final click of the deadbolt on a really big part of my life.  Sure, we still have our friendship and another door opens and it's really just that our relationship is changing, but our marriage is over.  And, yes, it's been over for a long time, but now it's legally over.  I'm having a hard time saying what I'm trying to say.  Or maybe I don't know what I'm trying to say.

Mental health day.  Pedicure.  Iced coffee.

As you were.

Dissolved

This week I found out that my divorce is final.  The judge signed the "Dissolution of Marriage" decree.

I found out via e-mail because I had e-mailed the county clerk's office to get an update and see if there was anything further they needed from us.  She responded that the judge had signed the dissolution last Friday.  I read that as I browsed through Old Navy, trying to remember what I went there for in the first place, and my friendly little iPhone buzzed good-naturedly, "you've got mail!"

I wasn't expecting that e-mail or really that news.  I mean, obviously I knew it was coming, I just didn't expect to get it while I fondled cheap camisoles.  I had a twinge of...something.  I think my mom described it best as a moment of "wow, that's really too bad."  And I mean that in all sincerity.  I'm sad and sorry that things have ended this way, but I also know that this is the right thing for both of us.

I've said it before, but right now I'm the strongest and happiest I've been in a long, long time, and I would venture to say that he is, too.  What's right at 23 isn't necessarily right at 30.  People grow up and apart and all that.

Things are good.  And there's still a little twinge of something when I think about it and catch myself by surprise, but that just takes time.  A year ago when people told me that "time heals all wounds," I wanted to punch them and roll my eyes at the same time.

But I'm glad I never did that because time does, indeed, heal.  Now I have a better friendship with my ex than I have in years.  Neither of us has to be angry or hurt or resentful anymore.  Our focus is Jack and we can be friends.  And that feels right and good.

I'm hanging on.  I'm ready for the next phase, however wild the ride might be.

Randoms

None of this stuff merits its own entry (and I'm not even convinced that they do when they're all together, but I made a PROMISE to MYSELF that I would WRITE.  Lucky you.)

• I now have a dental nightguard and a dental dayguard.  I am literally grinding my teeth down to nubs and have sprained my jaw muscle.  I didn't even know that was possible, but low and behold.  Nightguard: not a big deal, it's at night and I don't think Jack will judge my sexiness level (though he may try to steal it out of my mouth and flush it down the toilet.  Which, you know, EXPENSIVE.).  The dayguard is...not terribly noticeable except for the fact that I lisp now and can't stop popping it out with my tongue.  I am preparing myself for the day I pop it out and accidentally swallow it, eventually choking to death.  I hope my loved ones can come up with something creative for my headstone.  I've been working on some of the text.
  
  
• Does anyone know how to get the barf smell out of a stuffed animal?  It says to "spot clean", but wondering if I can just throw it in the washer and hope for the best.  Thanks to yesterday's PukeFest2009, Jack's kitty now smells delightfully like sour milk and ravioli.  And that's actually kind of making me gag just thinking about it.
  
  
• I have a big weekend of absolutely nothing coming up this weekend.  I am taking Friday as a personal day which I plan to fill with doctor's appointments and then balance that out with a pedicure and trashy mags.  On Saturday it's supposed to rain and my grand plan for the day is: eventually migrate from the bed to the couch, remain in pj's with snuggly blanket and good book.  Also, maybe some bad television.
  
  
• Jack has been absolutely delightful for the past week.  That's all I will say for fear of jinxing it.  But seriously.  I may just keep him after all.
  
  
• I'm making some goodies this weekend and I'll try to photograph the process because I know you are all dying for a new "watch Katie bake some fattening crap" post.

A substance of some kind

I just went over the posts I've put up here for the last couple of months and they are mostly cop-out picture posts.  Yes, everyone loves pictures and one of the reasons I write here is to chronicle life with Jack, but I haven't put anything of substance up lately (wait, have I ever?  And don't get your hopes up, I doubt this is The Post I've Been Waiting to Write.).  One of my favorite bloggers, Emily, recently wrote a post talking about how hard it is to write when you aren't in the practice of doing it regularly because you feel this pressure to Write Something Important.

The truth is that I have a lot of things to say, but I also don't really know yet where certain lines are drawn in terms of my personal life.  Many people who read here are here to know about Jack and so I've tried to concentrate on that part.  I'm skeptical about writing long, deep posts about Jack because it boils down to this: this is really fucking hard and also the most rewarding, wonderful thing I've ever done.  How many different ways can I say that?  Well, it appears that I have no idea and so I just keep shoving pictures at you.

(I have no idea where this is going.  *thinking of transition subject*)

We are going to tumbling class this morning, and let me just tell you that watching toddlers touch their toes in an effort to "warm up" is just about the cutest thing I've ever seen.  I love that Jack is at this age where he's finally starting to shift from parallel play to trying to play with other kids.  He notices them and suddenly wants to engage them, impress them, and show them what he can do.  It's so fun to watch.

And, as for my personal life, I think we shall just call him R for now. 

Friday Toddler Dancing

He really is starting to get the Michael Jackson thing down pretty well.  Grab that package, baby!

My 32nd year started at 3:15 a.m. - thanks, son!

So!  Today is my 32nd birthday.

Five or six years ago I was sitting with my friend Robert (hi Robert!) at Cambridge Common in Cambridge, MA, drinking a beer and talking about life and taxes (Robert also does my taxes) and I mentioned that things were feeling so up in the air and I felt kind of frustrated because I thought my 20's were supposed to be the "best years of my life."  He replied, "Who told you that?  The 30s are way better.  In your 30s you know yourself better and have settled into yourself."  Never have truer words been spoken.  I went through the Quarter Life Crisis, and several pretty tough years, culminating in Ultimate Suckiness about a year ago.  But, wow.  What a difference a year makes.  I am stronger and more confident than I have ever been.  I have my own place, I am raising a beautiful, smart son, I have a life filled with people who love me, I have a stable job.  My life feels full of potential, happiness, love and growth.  I am incredibly lucky.  Today I am recognizing my luckiness, and I hope I remember it every single day.

So far, my 30s totally fucking rock.

Taking the extra hour

This past weekend was the first break I've had from Jack in 3 weeks.  Due to various travel plans, his dad and I did some swapping of weekends and in theory it didn't seem so bad, but in practice it pretty just sucked balls.  Donkey balls.

I didn't take into account the following: I also have him Monday through Friday, making the last 3 weeks the full-on, non-top toddler show; Jack and I both got sick; he's going through a phase that makes hanging out with akin to hanging out with a psychotic, bi-polar midget.

He's in the full throws of Terrible Twos with the No's and limp-body, on-the-ground temper tantrums.  He's also communicating better and better which is so much fun and he's still, generally, the good-natured Jack we all know and love.  He also has this ability to turn into 666 DAMIEN CHILD OF SCREAMINESS.  Which, you know, simultaneously makes me appreciate the good times and want to trade him in on a non-two-year-old model.  And he's not even two yet.

He loves giving hugs and kisses, but they tend to be short and sweet and usually end like this as he tries to get around me or past me or over me:

His vocabulary is growing every day and I love that he's actually started using the modifiers: What was that?  You're the mama!  It's a frog!

And, FYI, frogs are officially the Most Awesome Animal of Awesomeness:

We took him to the Oakland Zoo a couple weeks ago and after an hour and a half of climbing on frogs, with brief breaks of pointing out the Lemur's eyes and nose and ears, we realized that yes, we just paid $21 to not see any actual animals.

Well, we also went to the amphibian house (obviously), but it turns out that actual real life frogs are much less interesting:

But, if there's anything I've learned in my short stint as a parent, it's that $21 is a small price to pay for 2 hours of this: