Wednesday, March 31, 2010


Today was a fabulous day. I love the time of year when winter turns into spring. (Not that we really have "winter" in Phoenix, but I can still appreciate it!) The time of year when the short days slowly begin to strech out, leaving us warm, dusky evenings that are perfect for sitting on porches with glasses of wine and a good book, or for barbequeing with friends. The time when instead of rolling out of bed at 6 A.M. and stumbing to the shower in the darkness, it's already starting to get light and the birds are chirping. In phoenix at this time of year it is the perfect tempature at about 7:00 A.M., when I drive to work: mildly warm but with just enough chill in the air leftover from the night to make everything feel fresh and clean.

This morning, after leaving L with my father-in-law for the day, I drove to work with the windows down and my music blasting, just feeling good about life. And the feeling stayed with me all day. I felt productive at work, I had a great meeting with one of my bosses, and I started preparing for my schedule change next week. Also, our current daycare called me and told me that they would match our new daycares tution, so we don't have to move L to a new daycare! Like I said, it was just one of days where everything seems right in the world, and I truly attribute the start of this great day to spring. Seriously, sometimes I think that I suffer from seasonal affective disorder. As the weather starts to turn from fall to winter I have those first few weeks of excitement over the prospect of cute sweater and boots and scarfs, long dark night curlded up next to fireplaces with hot chocolate, comfy, soft flannel pajamas that just beg you to spend all day in them, and the holidays. But that truly only lasts a few weeks. Then I start to feel suffocated, and dark and trapped. (And at times can also be prone to dramatics) I hate, hate, hate waking up in the morning when it is still dark outside. And I hate it even more when I have to climb out of bed and it's freezing in the room. I don't like it when it's dark long before we even think about sitting down for dinner. I despise being cold in general. And soon the reality sits in that I like my summer clothes more then my winter clothes, and I can't afford cute new sweaters, boots and scarves anyway. and we don't have a fireplace to curl up next too, and while I do love the holidays they also tend to bring family drama and debt. Flannel pajama pants is pretty much the only thing that stays on my "what I like about winter" list.

Now, this hasn't been nearly as bad for me since we have lived in Phoenix. Like I said, it's not as though we really have winter. It's more like a chilly fall with really short days and Christmas thrown in the middle. But sometimes that's almost worse, because at least if there were a foot of snow on the ground and freezing tempatures and dark cloudy skies I could justify my feelings. Instead we get sunny days with cool to cold temps, winter on prozac.

But it doesn't matter. The days are finally getting longer, and our front porch is calling to me and L to go sit and enjoy the weather while we wait for S to go home. Thank you spring, for returning so faithfully each year. I miss you when you are gone, but your return is always a joyous occasion for me.

Monday, March 29, 2010


Monday, Monday. It's always such a sad day when the weekend is over. That alarm goes off at 5:20 (Ack, sooooo early!) and all I can think is "No! No! No! I don't want to get up!" (This though often sounds like a petulant four year old in my head, my inner, and spoiled, child I suppose). I think all places of business should allow there employees to start Monday morning an hour or two earlier, you know, ease into the work week instead of jumping in feet first.

So that is my rant about Monday. Done and done, I will move on. I have some rather exciting news this Monday, actually. After much debate and discussion and stress about our financial situation, and exploring every possible avenue (second jobs, me going back to full time, selling our beagle on the black market) we found one potential solution. We found a great daycare, very close to our house and right on my way to work, that offered a four day a week, part time program for $100 a week. For those of you with children in daycare, you know that is pretty cheap. At our current daycare we pay $155 a week. So right there we would save $200 a month, and at least for the time being, solve our problems. Great, right? The only problem was approaching my work about moving to a four day work week. In fact, I pretty much thought there would be no way. I am the office manager so me being there everyday is pretty crucial. But I took a deep breath and explained our situation and let them know that I knew it was asking a lot but if I could move to four five hour days as opposed to five four hour days it would really help us. And, oh my gosh, they said "YES!!!" Well, not a permanent yes, but they are willing to move my schedule for a trial period of about a month and see if it works. If it does, we can make it permanent. I am so, so, so excited. Not only will it save us a money, it will give me an extra day a week of having my little man all to myself. (The three day weekend every week doesn't hurt either).

So, for all my complaining, my Monday turned out pretty great. I know that I am already so lucky to have a job that allows me to work part time so I can be home with L as much as possible, but the fact that they care enough about our situation to take a chance on this new schedule is pretty amazing. I am kind of dissapointed about having to move L out of his current daycare. I have had a great experience with them and I love L's teacher. But, I also really like this new one we found. One really cool thing about the new one is there is also an adult day center in the same complex (for seniors) and when the kiddos get a little older they do a lot of "inter-generational" stuff. The have the kids perform play for the seniors, and the seniors teach them how to garden and read to them. I think it's great for kids to learn from their elders and to learn respect for their elders at a very young age.

So, bottom line, I really hope this all works out, I think it will be good for all of us. Keep your fingers crossed!!!

Oh, and Happy Monday!!!

Friday, March 19, 2010

Alone in the house

It is 9:30 at night and I am alone in the house. (Well, L is asleep upstairs, but I am the only adult in the house.) This is such an incredibly rare occurance that it deserved to be blogged about. S has an old high school friend in town so the two of them went to a spring training game. L and I stopped by a friends bbq earlier and then came home and he went straight to bed after a delicious bottle, some snuggling in the rocker and a quick lullabye.

There was a time in my life where I really enjoyed night alone. As much as I was always one to prefer going out then staying in, I liked those rare occassion where (back in high school) my parents were gone for the night and later in college all my roommates were out. I use to seize these oppurtunities to order in pizza, paint my nails, watch girly movies, and drink copius amounts of wine while reveling in "me time".

Not so much anymore.

Due to a very unfortuante incident when S and I lived in Flagstaff. (Late night break in, intruder in house while we slept, stolen car keys) I am now a nervous wreck anytime I am alone in the house after sundown. So much so that I can probably count on one hand the number of times S and I have been apart overnight since the incident. Now, when I am alone in the house, every noise is a potential prowler, or, more likely, a serial killer who is intent on kidnapping and torturing me and my baby. Despite the deliciously warm night air, every window in our house is locked up tight, every door bolted, while the tv is one it is muted (to better hear scary noises) and I writing this blog while curled on the couch with a sharp knife (only weapon availabe in house) on the table in front of me. Hey, you can never be too careful.

I miss the days of blissfull ignorance to the fact that there are people out there who actually will come uninvited into your home. Instead of enjoying a marathon movie session of "Mean Girls", "13 going on 30" and "Under the Tuscan Sun" I am mapping out all potention escape routes/hiding places and imagining who would play me in the lifetime movie about my harrowing ordeal. (I'm thinking Reese Witherspoon. She's older then me, but I feel we share similar bubbly traits and a cute hairstyle). And I won't stop this obviously unreasonable and obsessive train of thought untill my strong and handsome protector (A.K.A  S) comes through the door.

I know, I know. I am completely paranoid. I am perfectly aware of this fact, no need to point it out to me. Doesn't change how I feel though.

So that's all for tonight. I have about 2 hours before S is home so I'm off to check the door and windows and see if I can track down our baseball bat. Just in case. Like I said, you can never be too careful.

Monday, March 15, 2010

6 months

L is 6 months old today. 6 months ago, on September 15th, 2009, my little man came in to my life and in doing so made it better in ways I didn't even know were possible. In the last 6 months he has truly made me a better person. With him here I am more likely to slow down and admire the wonder in things that I would not have even given a second glance to before. Thing that when he sees them are so full of mystery and unexplainable to him, like the way the light dances of the ceiling in patterns when the fan is going, or the birds that hop around in our way too tall grass in the backyard. I love seeing the world through his eyes. I also find I am less likely to snap at people, both stranges and loved ones. I don't get as stressed at work, because I know at noon I get to go home and take a cuddley nap with him. He is my rose-colored glasses and everything is just a little brighter and happier  with him here.

I was not a happy, glowy, pregnant woman. Those nine months were hard on me, both mentally and physically. I didn't love it, I endured it for the reward at the end. And, since I found out I was pregnant at about 3 weeks, those 9 months seemed soooooo long. I couldn't wait for him to just be here. And so it seems crazy that these past 6 months have flown by so quickly that I feel I can barely remeber that tiny 8 pound baby that came home from the hospital with us. Now he rolls and babbles and laughs and talks and gets mad, and everyday it is something new and exciting, but sometimes I just want to shout "stop!" I want it all to slow down. I want him to stay my little baby boy.

But, time does not stop, and so today we celebrate 6 months of  love and learning and the joys and trials of parenthood. And to L, I have to say thank you. Thank you, little monkey, for making me complete. I love you more then anything in this world and I promise to always try to see this big world through your innocent eyes. I remeber that day, 6 months ago, at 2:45 P.M., when you made your entrance after 17 long hours of labor. The memory of the exact moment is a blur, doctors and nurses swarming around, people yelling and cheering and calling out encouragment, your daddy holding my hand and holding back tears (although he won't admit that). But one memory is sharp and clear: they place you, all slimy and cone-headed and screaming on my tummy and in that moment I know that I love you more than anything (even after you promtly peed and pooped on me!). So happy 6 month birthday, L. Thanks for just making me better. 

I love you!

Saturday, March 13, 2010


I love weekends. I realize that this is a slightly moronic statement, seeing as how everyone loves weekends, but I feel as though I love them in whole new way since L has been born. Weekends are now this magical time, 48 hours of happiness and togetherness, where S, L and I do absolutely nothing and everything, and we do it all together. I live for this time, look forward to it and countdown the hours Monday through Thursday until that time that S and I can collapse on the couch together, with our little bundle wedge between us and just soak in each other.

I only work part time, 8-12 Monday through Friday, so I am very lucky to have an extraordinary amount of "mommy and me" time with L. And I am also incredibly lucky because I have a husband who works so hard, and so many long hours, to make this possible for me. The flip side is that S doesn't get nearly as much time with L as we would like, and we also don't get as much time as a family. So that is why weekends are so important to me now. We don't spend nearly as much time meeting up with friends, or going to the movies or running errands on the weekend as we use to, instead we really just tend to hunker down and be with each other. I love that S and I get some more alone time on the weekends, after L has gone to bed and we stay up late and watch movies and drink wine and talk. We don't have to worry about getting to bed because of work in the morning, and we are both more relaxed. And I love, love, love, when L wakes up for his 6 A.M. feeding on the weekends I bring him into bed with us and nurse him there, his warm little body curled into mine, both of us drifting in and out of sleep. And then, when he is done eating, he always drifts into a deep, satisfied sleep, nestled in between the two people who love him most in the world. And we wake up slowly, usually to L grabbing our hair or nose and giggling, as if to say "hey guys, let's get this day started!” Those mornings’ moments are so beautiful, and on some level it makes me sad because I know it won't last forever. Eventually L will go into his own room, and he'll get older and want to get up and watch cartoons not cuddle with his mommy in the morning. And there will be activities on the weekends; little league, pop Warner, swimming lessons. All those fun things you get to do with little kids. And eventually S and I will probably jump start our social life again, and emerge from our isolated cocoon of family to hang out with friends and run errands and see movies. But for now, I want to relish this time. I want to stay as long as we can, cuddling in bed, the three of us. I love these two men in my life so much, and for now, all I want is to soak in every single lovely moment I can with them.

So, I'll end this post with once again stating the obvious; "I love weekends!"

Thursday, March 4, 2010

In a funk

Sometimes, when life knocks you down and your stressed out and just in one of those down and out funky moods it's the smallest things that can suddenly catapult you out of the fog and shoot you straight towards the stars on a stream of pure happiness. Here is what did that for me this week:

It amazes me how this little boy can absolutely change my entire day. He is a 17 pound bundle of happiness and innocence and love and when he smiles at me nothing seems bad anymore. And I realize in these special and magical moments I share with him that everything is going to be ok, because I have him and I have S and we are healthy and in love and that is all that really matters.

I've been stressed out lately, mostly because of money, but I've also been letting the little things get to me. I beat myself up when I miss a day going to the gym. I feel like a failure as a wife because S is more likely to come home to take-out or sandwiches then a home-cooked warm meal. I feel like a bad mom because I forgot to take L's bottle to daycare. I don't want to let the not-so-good little things get to me, I want to enjoy all the wonderful little things that happen to us each day, but usually we are just too busy to see. That is what L does for me, he helps me see those little things that otherwise would have been missed. He does is a million times a day; when he crinkles up his cute little nose and smiles, when he sticks out his tongue and blows bubbles, and especially at night when his eyes get heavy and he is so warm and heavy and secure in my arms. It is in these moments that I realize that this is what life is about. It doesn't matter if I miss a day of running, and I'm probably never going to be suzy-homemaker with a pot roast on the table every night (and hey, S likes sandwiches), and L didn't even realize I forgot his bottle, he was perfectly happy eating pureed green beans.

So I'm going to actively start looking for the little wonderful moments in life, and I'm going to focus on my  family who I love so much it sometimes hurts. I'm going to stop feeling bad about little things and instead just focus on being happy. And when I feel myself starting to take a nosedive into one of those funky moods, I'm going to look to L and S and stop myself before I even get there. There will still be bad days and stress, but I'm going to try to ignore those moments and focus on the good days.

And if anyone else is having one of those "blah" days, here's something to pull you out of it. Because nobody can feel down when they look at pictures of cute, happy babies.

Monday, March 1, 2010

The trials of adulthood

At the ripe old age of 26 I have discovered a hard truth about being an "adult". Mainly, I have discovered one of the few things that kind of sucks about being an adult. Let me enlighten you.

-Money. Mainly not having any. Under the umbrella of money falls things such as mortgage payments, medical bills, utilities, grocery bills, vet bills... you see where I am going with this. Basically, while it sucks not having money, it sucks even more that the money you do have has to go towards things that are decidedly un-fun.

As I've mentioned before, right now I am only working part-time. This was a choice we made, thinking it would be the best comprimise so that I was still bringing in some income, but was also able to spend a majority of my time at home with the baby. But it's getting hard. I don't know how much longer we are going to be able to do it. Every month is a struggle and we are seriously having to make some changes and cut stuff out. That means we make a pot of soup on Monday and eat it all week. We don't eat out anymore, or go out for drinks. S cancelled his gym membership. I'm not able to join stroller strides. We only buy the essentails at the grocery store, no wine, no snack food, no yummy odowalla drinks. And, like I said, it sucks. I hate it. I miss our old lifestyle, where we could go to the movies or go to happy hour and not think anything of it. I miss eating out on the weekends. I really miss shopping.

And I hate that we can't do more fun stuff for L. I really wanted to enroll him in a busy bodies or gymboree class, but we can't afford it. I want to be able to buy him cute outfits or fun toys when I see them. And I know that he doesn't need this stuff. He is happy and healthy and loved. But it doesn't change that I want to be able to give him these things.

But, while I desperately would like the stability and comfort of actually having money again, the thought of having to go back to work full time makes me short of breath and my heart pound. I do not want to, in fact I don't know if I even can, be away from L all day. I love our daycare, I love our daycare teacher, but I don't want daycare raising my son. I live for the moment that I get off work at noon and I rush over to pick him up. I love that when he sees me he smiles and reaches for me and I know that we have an entire afternoon of cuddles and giggles and playtime ahead of us.

So this is our "trial month". We are cutting everything out, living bare bones, and seeing if we can make this work. I've put in an application at our daycare for a teachers aid in the afternoons, it wouldn't pay much but it would give us a discount (and truthfully, it's childcare that is killing us) and I would still sort of be with L. We are also looking at a different daycare that is cheaper, but I really don't want to move L after he just got settled at the current daycare. I am also going to put in an application for a teachers aid at that facility. Our only other option is for me to get a serving job. That way I could go to work once S got home. I served all through college, and I enjoyed it, but it would be difficult. I would have to work dinner shift which means at the earliest I would be getting off at 10 or 11 and not geting home till 11 or 12 and would still have to be up at 5:30 to get ready and out of the house on time. Most of my experience is working in bars, and that is great money, but then I wouldn't be getting off till between 12 and 2. Getting a serving job would also mean giving up my weekends, which are the only true time the three of us have as a family right now.

So we will see. Hopefully we can cut some things out and make a few changes and we can stay with the way things are now. Or maybe we will win the lottery (hey, a girl can dream!). But in the end, we will do whatever needs to be done for the good of the family. And if that means giving up my cuddle time in the afternoons or giving up my sleep to serve at night, then that's what I will do. But, that doesn't mean I will be happy about it and it doesn't mean I won't cry and vent and maybe punch a pillow or two at the unfairness of life and adulthood. And after I get that out I will look at my baby boy and know that all of this is for him. And he will smile that cute little crinkly nose smile at me and make me feel better in a way that no one else can. And we will get through this, because that is the only option.

Wish us luck.