Unplanned Parenthood

Garage Sale

OMG, it has been so hot here recently.  We haven't had much of a summer and, frankly, it's been lovely.  I'm not one for heat and blinding sun, the Pacific Northwest genes just run too deep, and I feel like we've been spoiled with an August in the 70s.  Of course now we're paying for it with a September-almost-October in the 90s.  The heat this late in the season feels wrong somehow.  We should be wearing jackets outside and turning the fireplace on in the evenings.  Instead it's tank tops and air conditioning.  I was hoping I'd escaped the summer without having to show my exquisitely flappy mom arms in a tank top, but alas.  Here I am, avoiding mirrors.

Since Jack was with his dad this last weekend, we decided to hold a garage sale.  I mean, we've been planning it for awhile, but we chose this weekend because he'd be with his dad and we figured it would be a little cooler.  It was 95 on Saturday.

The alarm went off at 5:30am, which is actually 15 minutes later than my usual daily wake-up call, but which feels a million minutes earlier on a Saturday.  We were at Randall's dad's house by 6:30 and got to work in the early morning light putting up signs in the neighborhood, pricing items, carefully arranging our junk treasures on tables and blankets.  Our sale was scheduled to start at 7:30am, which means that the "early birds" arrived at 7am and I have to say that they were just plain unpleasant.  All business, scrappy, and you just knew that they were buying stuff to resell it.  Which, you know, fine, but at least be kind to your fellow humans.

By 9:30 we were drenched in sweat and it was over 80 degrees.  And, oh-so-wisely, our wares were laid out on the front driveway which is in the sun's path for most of the day.  We held up pretty well with some bagels from Levy's (best. ever.) and lots of cold bottles of water.  Mostly everyone was nice.  There were a few assholes, as there always are in life, who would look through the free bin and ask too many questions.  Like, dude, it's free.  Just take it.

By 2:30 we were done, done, done.  We packed up our leftovers into the back of the truck (we borrowed) and headed over to the Mormon Church to drop off donations.  It was a short, quiet drive as we knew the end was near.  We pulled into the parking lot and drove.  And drove.  And there was no donation bin.  Uuuuugh.

Okay, Plan B.  Drive to Dublin (15 minutes away) and drop it off at Goodwill.  Of course, with all the loose items in the back we couldn't get on the freeway, so we had to take the backroads.  So, 30 minutes later we pull into Goodwill, but little did we know that Goodwill has the World's Smallest Parking Lot.

As we're pulling in a Goodwill truck is pulling in towards us.  He stops.  We indicate we just want to get past him to the other side to unload.  He indicates that he will be moving at the approximate time hell freezes over.  We back up.  And keep backing up.  Finally, he gets to where he needs to go, another car (containing a woman on her cell phone) pulls forward and we're able to get back to the donation station.  We begin to unload our unwanteds and bring them into the station.

No furniture!  No toys! we're told explicitly.  Randall kindly asks the woman if we are able to drop off the crib mattress.

NO MATTRESSES!! she yells.

Honestly, these people were kind of jerks.  No, not kind of.  They were total jerks.  And it was 95 degrees and we were exhausted which made it that much more annoying.

As we're loading the last of our boxes (the ones NOT containing TOYS because TOYS are NOT ALLOWED, you IMBECILES.), the Jerky Mattress Woman yells at us to, "Get out of the way and let Josh do his job!"  Which, you know, if we weren't there unloading donations, Josh wouldn't have a job.  Unfortunately, we were too stunned to point that out.

We briefly considered dropping the toys off anyway since they were in boxes and it would feel vaguely nice to stick to these people with their asinine rules.  Ultimately, we were good citizens and didn't, but still.  It would have felt good to imagine them opening the boxes and there are all these quality children's items that people would love to buy and they are SO MAD we dropped them off.  Stick it to The Man!  At Goodwill!  What?

A couple blocks away we stopped at the gas station so I could get a bottle of water.  I walked in, got my water, and the cashier was on the phone talking to a friend the. entire. time.  By that point it took every ounce of strength I had not to reach over, rip the phone out of his hand, smash it to the counter and scream, "This is your JOB.  This is what you're being PAID FOR.  Get off the PHONE."

ANYWAY.

We finally made it home - tired and dirty and sweaty - and I decided to lay down and "rest" for a minute.  I woke up at 9am on Sunday.

The End.

I don't even want to know how long it's been.

Uhhhhh.  Bullets?  That seems appropriate.

• I accepted a new position within the Very Large Corporation (VLC) and have spent the last couple weeks settling in, transitioning out of my old role and into the new.  It's kind of like shedding a skin.  I almost feel like I get a do-over, a clean slate.  Not that it was bad before, I'm just pretty excited about what I'm going to be involved in now.  VLC sponsors some very large events globally and I'm going to be helping with the planning and compliance within those large events.  Could I be more vague?  Aren't you excited for me?  Yet, don't really understand what the hell I'm talking about?  Me, too.  Either.  Whatever.

• The bummer of my new position is that it requires me to commute to a different location, a location that is not supported by the Bay Area ferry system, which means I have to driiiiive.  Arrrrrggg.  It's not terrible, per se, but I can see if getting old.  Quickly.  My lease is up at the end of July (has it really been almost a year?  REALLY?), so I'm considering living options.

• As you may have read on my little twitter blurbs over there --> Jack is going through Major Separation Anxiety (which I'm assured is totally normal for a 2 year old) (TWO?!) and has decided he is only going to be sleeping with me thankyouverymuch.  The alternative is that he cries until he throws up, will not calmed down.  I've tried so many things, and I'm starting to think that it might be time to move him into a big boy bed.  At least in that instance, I can lay down with him until he goes to sleep.  Mommy needs her space and the co-cleeping with a thrashing wildman just isn't very restful.  Just because his feet don't smell yet doesn't mean I particularly want them shoved up under my chin.

• Things with R are wonderful.  We are building such a good, solid, loving relationship and Jack just ADORES him.  When he's around, I am chopped liver.  Which means I am also able to do things like pee with the door closed.  WIN.

• R and I are going on an 18 mile backpacking trip this long weekend.  So far, I haven't let on that I'm terrified that I'm not strong enough to do it.  18 miles!  With a pack on!  I will probably die, so please know that I love you all.  If I do, by some miracle, make it back, I will throw some pictures your way.  I'll be the one on collapsed on the ground.

• Life, overall, is good.  There are tough things and hard days, but overall we're doing really well.

Fitness. Because that's what's on my mind. Aren't you lucky?

Since going back to work full time in August, my exercise regime has become, well, essentially non-existent.  I hike and run sporadically, do the 30-Day Shred sporadically, and go for walks more often but at a rate that still qualifies as, you guessed it, SPORADIC.

I'm desperate to start working out regularly again for physical reasons, of course, but also and more importantly, for emotional health.  I feel better when I get good, demanding physical exercise.  I'm a better mother, friend, all that.

Given my schedule, I have two options: work out at lunch or work through my lunch and work out before jumping on the ferry.  Tomorrow will be my trial run for doing yoga at lunch.  I won't get too sweaty and gross, but still a good work out.  Next week, I think on Monday, I will attempt the escape work at 4:30, run to gym, jump on elliptical and then hurl my disgusting, sweat-drenched body onto the ferry before it departs.  Pick up Jack, drive home, dinner, quick shower, etc.  But that's a long time between "sweat drenched" and "shower" and I don't know.  Ew.

Something has got to give.  I'm making a commitment to figuring out how to do this.  Even if I smell.

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.

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.

Awake

I can't sleep.  I slept horribly last night.  It's 10:30 and I'm not even remotely tired tonight.  It's a vicious cycle: can't sleep, get frustrated about not sleeping, frustration causes anxiety, anxiety replaces sleep...and repeat.

I think I've inherited Vanessa's insomnia.  Thanks, Cuz.

I have no idea why I'm awake. And don't get me started on the crib.

I've been awake since 4:35 a.m.  I feel good!  Rested!  It's still dark outside!

Maybe it's because I went to bed at 8:30 p.m. last night.  Do you think I can qualify for the senior citizen's early bird discount at the diner?  Because seriously.  Pretty soon I'm going to start eating dinner at 4:00 in the afternoon and shaking my fist at "those damn kids upstairs, making all the racket."

Yesterday morning we went to the Berkeley Farmer's Market and stocked up on lots of good fruits and veggies (and one organic apricot thumbprint cookie which was delicious) and some local bread and honey.  We came home, put stuff away, cleaned up a little (me) and dragged out more Duplo blocks (Jack) and then it was nap time.  Scream, scream, scream, refuse to sleep, scream some more.

Finally, at about 12:30 p.m., I put him in his crib, told him I loved him and to have a good nap, resolutely shutting his door behind me.  There was some yelling and shaking of the crib rails, but I felt confident that a) it was SO naptime and he would give up quickly and b) I could really use a break and some lunch.  I was standing at my refrigerator, debating whether to take the time to cook up some veggies or be really lazy and make myself a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, when there was a sudden thump, a pause and then a wail.

You know the sound of that thump when you just know, with every ounce of your being that something different and quite possibly bad just happened?  I'm used to the shaking of the crib rails, the slapping of the walls, and the whine of frustration - it usually lasts for anywhere from 10-30 seconds before Jack passes out.  What can I say?  Play hard, fight hard, sleep hard.

ANYWAY, with my heart in my mouth, I sprinted the 15 feet from my kitchen to Jack's door, knowing deep down what I would find:  my child on the OUTSIDE of his crib.  Standing in his room with the beginnings of a bruised eye and cheek.  I quickly picked him up, held him while he cried (he was scared more than anything), and when I was sure it was nothing more than a little bruise, I felt like crying myself.  No, no, not because my child hurt himself.  Not because he did something where he had the potential to really hurt himself.

Because MY CHILD CAN GET OUT OF HIS CAGE CRIB AND MY LIFE IS OVER.  My only saving grace is that he can't reach his doorknob and therefore can't escape his room.

Jack is a climber, an escape artist and a stubborn, strong-willed child who goes to bed very easily and well if he's in a crib that he knows he can't escape from.  When I put him in bed at night, 90% of the time he doesn't make a peep, just lays down and goes to sleep or talks to himself for awhile and then nods off.  The other 10% of the time there is a whine, maybe a cry of indignation, and then silence.  A toddler bed is basically just a big funhouse trampoline.  I honestly don't know what I'm going to do.

Yesterday he had a 20 minute nap in the car and didn't go to bed until 8:20 when he was staggering around in a stupor and I figured he was too weak to throw his leg over the crib rails.

Does anyone out there have any suggestions?  I'm assuming a barbed wire fence at the top of his crib rails is "overkill" and possibly "illegal," but I'm open to any and all advice on this one.

I'm all hopped up on coffee, it's 6:13 a.m. and I think I'll mop the floor and keep an ear out for the thump of my son heaving himself onto the floor.

Randomness without the bullets because I'm too lazy

I have strep throat which totally pisses me off because this is a weekend when I am kid-free and had grand plans for yoga classes and cookie baking and dinner with friends and now it's all CANCELED because of STUPID BACTERIA.  I am on antibiotics, slept most of the day yesterday and I feel mildly better (i.e. can sometimes swallow without crying) and now I'm just getting angry about being sick.  Which, I suppose, is evidence that I'm feeling better than yesterday when I just felt pathetic.

ANYWAYS, I originally thought I would start my reading project with American Pastoral but have since changed my mind because I've always wanted to read Housekeeping and I had it on my shelf, whereas I ordered American Pastoral from half.com and accidentally left it at work but finished the other (non-list) book that I was reading and having a book at the ready is just unacceptable.  Wow.  That was a serious run-on sentence that I am too lazy to fix.  All that mess is just to say that you can see I changed the book over there and that's why.  Not that you cared.  I don't even care.

I'm wondering: if I bake cookies while I'm sick, will the strep virus get into the cookies, making them inedible?  Will the 350 degree oven kill the bacteria?  But if I touch the cooled ones?  I'm looking or something constructive to do.  Laundry just doesn't fit the bill because hi!  BORING.

OMG, I just took a drink of my coffee and I thought it was mostly empty but it clearly wasn't because I just spilled half a cup of coffee down the front of myself and on the couch.  I am awesome.

Okay, this is whole post is just going downhill fast and I don't even remember why I thought I had something to say because clearly I don't.

Look!  Baby pictures!

And, most importantly, post haircut:

Hi LITTLE BOY.  I actually cut his hair myself because he was a Cranky Crab all weekend and I just did it on a whim while he was distracted by playing in the kitchen sink.  I didn't do a fantastic job and it's much, much shorter than I wanted it, but holy shit are these toddlers wiggly little dudes.

Routines

I'm working from home today, and I have to say there's nothing more satisfying than firing off an email containing big words when you're half-dressed with greasy hair.  Ha!  Take that, Corporate America!

I feel like crap today.  None of this is going to make any sense, but I'm trying to get back in the habit of writing here regularly, so here I am, ready to unapologetically use baby pictures as filler for a post.

It's been an interesting exercise to get into a full-time work day routine with Jack.  I've definitely had to make some concessions in the mornings.  Oh, you want to tear apart the bathroom cupboard?  But in exchange you will allow me to dry my hair?  CONSIDER IT DONE.

Yes, I am fully aware that my child is in terrible need of a haircut.  He has an appointment tomorrow afternoon.  I will try to hold it together as a stranger lops off all his delicious baby curls.  I'm already verklempt.

Since we don't get home until 6:30 and Jack goes to bed at 8:00, I've consciously made the decision to focus solely on him for that hour and half - dinner, bath, play time, read books, etc. - instead of trying to do the dishes right after dinner or pick up toys or what have you.  It all gets done after his bedtime now.  I really enjoy the time we're spending together in the evenings and he seems to really appreciate the full attention.

I think the teeth are finally cutting us a break.  I can't really tell, but I'm pretty sure he has 3 molars and an eye tooth poking through.  Or maybe 4 molars.  I actually have no idea which teeth are where and which ones come through when, all I know is that 4 major teeth came in and it sucked.

We were in the store the other day and I found these little interlocking foam blocks and I thought they would be good because he's so into putting things together and inside each other now.

In retrospect, I should have perhaps waited until he wasn't trying to bite through everything single thing, including granite countertops, before handing over the soft foam pieces.  Also, it's suddenly clear why the ride home from the store was eerily quiet.

Finally, note that it takes him a full minute to actually say, "hi," but in the meantime you get to hear his delightful baby chatter.

Hiiiiyeeee from Katie on Vimeo.

Bullets of Randomness (brought to you by generic cold medicine I found in the First Aid kit at work)

• Jack and I both have a cold.  Thanks, daycare!  Can't wait for a long weekend of being stuck in a house with a sick toddler and a box of Kleenex!  I think I'd rather go to work.

• It's hot here right now.  It's supposed get up near 90 degrees today which, you know, okay it's summer, but I don't have A/C in my house or my car.  HOT.  (See above: Toddler)  (Yes, Vanessa, I know you're laughing derisively and flipping me the bird right now.  I'm sorry for complaining about a random day in CA when you're actually living on the surface of the sun.)

• I haven't cooked a damn thing since I moved into my new place a month ago.  Not a friggin' thing.  I think I'll rectify that this weekend and bake something yummy.

• Hey!  That's a great idea!  In the middle of the heat of the day, take some cold medicine and then wave a sharp knife around while the oven is pre-heating the kitchen to eleventy billion degrees.

• I've been clenching my jaw and grinding my teeth for about, oh, a year now and I can barely open my mouth most mornings.  Think I should see a dentist?

• TV saga:  I didn't own a television for 5 years, but then I lived up in Washington where there was one already there (with cable) and kind of started watching it again.  Upon moving to CA, I thought, hey I think I want TV again because I love Food Network, crime shows and movies I haven't seen in forever.  Problem #1: I don't get cable service at my place.  Comcast just doesn't have cables there?  Or something?  It never really occurred to me that that would even be an option in the CITY of OAKLAND, a MAJOR CITY, but apparently, it is.  So, I called Dish Network since everyone else in my apartment building has that.  Problem #2:  install guy comes out, says he can't install the dish unless they drill a hole in the wall.  Apartment manager says "no way, Jose."  I call Dish and they say, well, if you go to a retailer, they are more lax about what they can/can't do and they can probably work around it.  Problem #3:  I think that is ridiculous purely on principal.  I am not taking my kid to a Circuit City to spend 2 hours and $200 to have something jury-rig a satellite dish on an apartment that I will likely only live in for a year.  Whatever.  I will just watch movies.  Problem #4:  All the sudden my random TV that I got at a garage sale a few weeks ago suddenly doesn't work anymore.  I don't actually really care that much anymore, I've really just been reading in the evenings anyways, which really just brings us to Problem #5:  HOW THE HELL AM I GOING TO GET A 100 LB TV OUT OF MY APARTMENT BY MYSELF AND WHAT DO I DO WITH IT?  Pls send help.

• The cold medicine is kicking in, but I haven't actually eaten anything I'm starting to feel utterly retarded.

• I have all these toddler-friendly plans this weekend which I am bound and determined to keep.  We will not drive each other crazy in a 700 square foot apartment.  Refuse.

• Pictures of said weekend to come...