I Can't Complain

It's all a matter of perspective.

Larry and I were at Baby Crap Mecca (as one of my friends calls it...) over the weekend buying diapers.  The diapers happen to be located at the end of the aisle that also contains formula.  As we were walking down the aisle, we walked by a couple buying a million giant containers of various types of formula. The woman had a handful of coupons and as we walked past, she was saying to her husband "we need to figure out to distribute these coupons to maximize our savings."

Afterwords, I told Larry that I had to bite my tongue not to yell "You should be breastfeeding!!! Don't you know breastfeeding is best for your baby?!?!?"  He said he'd noticed them, too, and he'd also had a visceral urge to say something to them.  His comment would have been very different than mine - he said he wanted tell them "You should be breastfeeding!!!!  That shit's expensive! Don't you know breastfeeding is FREE?!?!?!?!"

At the risk of sounding like Martha Stewart

I've been collecting a small list of good things.  Some of them I've been meaning to mention for quite some time, but with so many fun things to gripe about, saying something nice often falls by the wayside.   So here they are, some of the good things going on in my life lately:

Colonial Life Insurance - It isn't often that you get to something nice about an insurance company, but I had my supplemental short term disability and hospitalization coverage through them, and they were WONDERFUL when I made my claims. I faxed my two claim forms in, got a message the next day that they'd received and were processing them, and then a week later I got another message saying the checks were on the way.  Two days after that I got a check for the full seven weeks of my short term disability and another for the hospitalization.  No problems, no questions, no stalling.

Publix Baby Club - I joined a bunch of "baby clubs", since I figured coupons for diapers, wipes and the like are always useful.  The Pampers club sent me some good coupons.  So far I've received nothing from the Babies R' Us club, or the Target club (maybe their stuff is also coming via legless midget).  The Publix club, on the other hand, was amazing.  Not only did they send me a bunch of coupons for really useful free stuff and a cute little newsletter, they also sent me a copy of the AAP book "Caring for Your Baby and Young Child" - FREE.  This is not some little pamphlet - it's an 800 page reference manual full of useful information, which I use all the time.  I also have a copy of the Dr. Sears "Baby Book", but I found the tone condescending and the advice incredibly slanted toward Sears's choice of parenting style.  To be fair, the Sears book has come in handy in one really important way - it's currently propping up one end of the changing pad, so H can breathe easier when we're changing him. So thank you, Publix for saving me from the sanctimonious Dr. Sears.

My dear friend Leslie - she schlepped all the way down from DC to spend a couple of days with me during my maternity leave. She was, as always, a perfect house guest, and we had a great time just hanging around.  I don't think I properly expressed to her how much it meant to me that she made such an effort to visit.  So here it is - Leslie, you're a wonderful friend and I'm lucky to have you.

Oh, and Harrison totally dug her:
   

My ex-boss from NY -  The guy I used to refer to as "Evil Boss" is really a nice guy (which my husband maintained all along - he's just difficult to work for).  Not only was he genuinely excited about Harrison's arrival, he sent *the* cutest little sweater and teddy bear, which was a lovely surprise, especially from a crusty old trial lawyer.

Our next door neighbors - They're just generally cool, fun to hang out with people, and they are so sweet and thoughtful.  C brought us a basket of useful stuff right before Harrison was born, and they decorated our yard for when H and I came home from the hospital.  Last Halloween we had such a good time running back and forth between each other's porches sharing our wine and food, that this year we've just decided to set ourselves up together, between the two houses.

So there you have it - plenty of good stuff going on.  Now back to your regularly scheduled bitching and moaning.

The Lawyer from Ipanema

This earworm thing is getting completely out of hand.  I just found myself in the break room whistling The Girl from Ipanema under my breath and doing a little samba while I waited for my tea to steep. It was not pretty.

And speaking of not pretty... there is no neat or graceful way to eat a bread bowl after you have emptied it of soup.  Ask me how I know this.

Dammit!

Every time I look at this blog (for example, to see how my previous entry looked), I see my Earworm entry and The Girl From Ipanema re-lodges itself in my head.  I feel like I'm stuck on an elevator that won't stop on my floor.

Why I Love Bubba's Daycare

Yeah, they have a low caregiver-child ratio, take great care of him, give him all the snuggles and games of peek-a-boo he wants, and treat him like a celebrity. But that's not why*...

The best thing about about the daycare is that someone has complimented me on my figure or my outfit or both, every day for the last five days.  And having complete strangers tell me I look good is a nice little pick-me-up, especially when I'm doing drop off, which always makes me sad.

*Actually that is why; this is more of that humorous device stuff. 

On the Backs of Legless Midgets*

Exactly a week ago, October 16, I placed an order on Target.com.  The items were marked "usually ships in 1 to 2 days".  On Saturday,  October 21, I received an email cheerfully telling me that my items had just shipped.  Clearly, one of us is using a different definition of the word "days" and I'm pretty sure it's not me.

And as if that's not annoying enough, the shipping status on the Target.com website estimated that my package would be arriving sometime between October 20 and October 31.  (You'll note, please, the date it actually shipped.)  Apparently, either they're going to put my package in their Wayback Machine, or they're going to strap it to the back of a legless midget, who is going to drag himself here by his hands.

Since I didn't remember getting the package the day before it shipped, I assumed I didn't get the time machine shipping upgrade, so I checked out their actual shipment method.  Apparently, Target is going to deliver the package to the nice men in the brown shorts. Sadly, I don't get to see the gorgeous legs belonging to my brown-shorted guy.  For some unknown reason, rather than delivering the package directly to my house, he's going to give my package to the United States Postal Service, who, based on their usual delivery methods, will be delivering it to some stranger down the street, some time next month. 

I suspect that even the legless midgets would have gotten it here faster.

*For any legless midgets or friends of legless midgets reading this blog, no offense was intended; this was merely a humorous device. I apologize in advance for any offense that may have inadvertently been given.

Earworm

Help! I have The Girl From Ipanema stuck in my head!

Lunch at the Fair

The South Carolina State Fair is going on at the moment, and one of my research attorneys had the bright idea to rally a group to go to Lunch at the Fair.  Lunch at the Fair is a special deal where you pay $5 to get in and you receive a big red plastic token.  If you leave before 2 PM, you can turn in the token and get your five bucks back.  The purpose of this is to lure unsuspecting business people who would normally never consider going to the fair, much less in their business attire in the middle of the work day, to the fair to consume giant corn dogs, pork chops on a stick, elephant ears, and deep fried foods that were never meant to be fried. 

Among the three of us in the research department, we put away three large orders of French fries, two hot dogs, one giant corn dog, one chicken pita, two Pepsis, one bottle of water, a root beer float and a fried Snickers bar.  And, in the interest of departmental bonding, we all spilled something on ourselves.

In case anyone else is considering venturing out for an all fried meal at their local state fair, I should mention that pointy-toed Kenneth Cole pumps with three inch heels are not the ideal footwear to wear to a fairground if you'd like to be able to walk afterwords.

Feeling Spoiled and Bratty

I feel small and bratty for even being upset about this, but it's been bothering me all weekend, so maybe writing it down will help me stop stewing about it.

My coworkers wanted to throw me a baby shower.  Unfortunately, while they were full of big ideas, they didn't motivate to do anything about it until a month before my due date, which resulted in the shower being planned for 10 days before my scheduled c-section (which, to be fair, was still better than Larry's coworkers, who ended up planning a shower for four days before my scheduled c-section.)  Which, as it turned out, was two days AFTER H's actual birth date. 

This really bummed me out, since I wasn't able to travel to NJ to attend the shower my mother and sisters threw.  It wasn't the gifts - Larry and I are well able to buy anything we need for the kiddo - it was the chance to spend an afternoon with my friends celebrating an important event in my life.  And to be honest, it was the first party anyone had ever offered to throw for me that I didn't end up having to help plan or execute (see, e.g. my wedding shower, which I ended up having to help both set up for and clean up from).  Even though I was sad about not being able to have a shower, I'd pretty much put it behind me.

Then last week when we had a shower for one of the many pregnant women here. It's her second child, so it was pretty low key, but still - they managed to plan it well in advance of her due date.  And a shower for another of the pregnant women here is also in the works.  And even though she's not due until the end of January, I've been told we need to have it in early December, since we don't want to take the chance that she'll go early and miss it. Yeah.  Good idea.

What really got me stewing about this, though, and I really do realize how childish and spoiled this sounds, was the realization that my boss, with whom I've always thought I was pretty close, never got me anything for the baby.  He came and saw me in the hospital and brought me a nice card, which I guess should be enough, but somehow it hurts that he's given baby gifts in one form or another to all of the people who have had babies here in the past, including contributing to the group gift for the above mentioned second baby shower, except me.  Rationally, I realize it's because it's in his nature to do things at the last minute, and he'd have gone out and gotten something the day before the shower, but because there never was a day before the shower, no gift buying was done.  Emotionally, though, it still hurts.

And seeing this all in writing makes it seem even more childish and bratty, but hey, it's my blog.  I guess I can be bratty once in a while if I want to.

On a completely unrelated, but much happier note - the pants I bought two months before I got pregnant, which were a size larger than I'd been wearing, are now HUGE. Yay breastfeeding!

Alone Again

I am completely alone in my house for the first time since July 27, 2006, and I don't like it. 

Today was Harrison's first day at daycare - I left my baby with two complete strangers in a room full of other babies; just handed him over and walked away. And then I burst into tears and cried all the way home. 

Intellectually, I know that this needs to be done.  I have to return to work, and even if we could rearrange our finances to allow me to stay home, I *want* to return to work.  I've finally found a job I love with co-workers and supervisors I like and respect and who like and respect me, and I'm not ready to give that up.  But knowing that intellectually doesn't do me a whole lot of good when my heart is breaking and I can't seem to stop crying.

If I'd known how very painful this was going to be, I might have thought twice about having a baby at all. Right at this moment, it seems like it would have been easier to go on the way were before, without anyone to worry about but ourselves.  I think the feminist movement has done women a huge disservice in making us think we can have it all - be a wife and a mother and have a successful career, too.  We can't have it all - there just aren't enough hours in the day.  What we can have is parts of each.  And we have to work hard and sacrifice a lot to get even that much.  Eventually (hopefully soon), this may be enough for me, but right now my stomach is in knots, my cheeks are stained with tears, and I'm counting the minutes until I can hold my baby in my arms again.