I’m Awesome. Just Ask Me.

*Note: Names and details have been changed to protect the mean innocent.

I learned something yesterday. Not everyone likes me. I know! I was filled with shock and awe myself. Me! How is there anyone out there that doesn’t like ME!?! I’m awesome – just ask me.

Well, in reality I’m shocked there is anyone that does actually like me.  I have people that I’ve known for most of my life that by now are required to like me (ahem, Michelle). There are people who are required to put up with me – sorry in-laws. But, in all reality I am shy and insecure and surprised that anyone truly likes me. Especially at times like last weekend, when my house was bursting with people that came for the singular purpose of wishing us luck on our move and having a chance to say a personal good-bye. I’m always astounded that there are people that are not required to put up with me and continue to choose to spend time with me. Not that I think I’m all that horrible. I like me. Doug likes me. I like other people, so I shouldn’t be surprised when I fall into the “other people” category of someone else, right? Not so much.

I was still taken aback when talking to Megan* on the phone and she says  “So, why doesn’t Hailey like you?”. Um, I didn’t know she didn’t. Not like we’re best buds or anything.  We’re not planning vacations together but we do have some inter-connecting circles and are often at the same gatherings where we chat and (I thought) got on well enough.  In a conversation with Leslie, Megan was told something along the lines of “Hailey doesn’t really like Brandy and I don’t know why”. Hmmm. Well, Brandy doesn’t know why either.  I do know how Sweet-Valley-Vomit this sounds.

Doug said I shouldn’t worry about it and that since he likes me no one else should matter. And in a way I suppose he’s right. Then again, it sucks. While I will be the first to admit that Hailey is not someone that would be on the top of my list of new shopping buddies, I don’t dislike her. I don’t think she’s a bad human out drowning kittens in her off  hours. We just don’t have a strong connection. We’re different types of women, different types of parents, and there is a bit of an age gap.  But I still like her! We have some significant commonalities that I thought would at least make us allies. Doug said “so just ask her”. Oh yeah right. Hasn’t the fact that I’m even having this conversation clued you in that I’ve been punted squarely into being a 11 year old that got left out of the birthday party?

I’m not sure how I’m going to handle the whole thing. I do know how silly it must seem to even care, but I do. It hurts my feelings and bruises my pride. My hard candy outside and evil gooey center hide a tender heart that bleeds easily.  So if I’m extra bitchy awesome for the next few days you can add this to the list of why.

I guess it’s time to update my press release.

I'm Awesome. Just Ask Me.

Note: Names and details have been changed to protect the mean innocent.

I learned something yesterday. Not everyone likes me. I know! I was filled with shock and awe myself. Me! How is there anyone out there that doesn’t like ME!?! I’m awesome – just ask me.

Well, in reality I’m shocked there is anyone that does actually like me.  I have people that I’ve known for most of my life that by now are required to like me (ahem, Michelle). There are people who are required to put up with me – sorry in-laws. But, in all reality I am shy and insecure and surprised that anyone truly likes me. Especially at times like last weekend, when my house was bursting with people that came for the singular purpose of wishing us luck on our move and having a chance to say a personal good-bye. I’m always astounded that there are people that are not required to put up with me and continue to choose to spend time with me. Not that I think I’m all that horrible. I like me. Doug likes me. I like other people, so I shouldn’t be surprised when I fall into the “other people” category of someone else, right? Not so much.

I was still taken aback when talking to Megan* on the phone and she says  “So, why doesn’t Hailey like you?”. Um, I didn’t know she didn’t. Not like we’re best buds or anything.  We’re not planning vacations together but we do have some inter-connecting circles and are often at the same gatherings where we chat and (I thought) got on well enough.  In a conversation with Leslie, Megan was told something along the lines of “Hailey doesn’t really like Brandy and I don’t know why”. Hmmm. Well, Brandy doesn’t know why either.  I do know how Sweet-Valley-Vomit this sounds.

Doug said I shouldn’t worry about it and that since he likes me no one else should matter. And in a way I suppose he’s right. Then again, it sucks. While I will be the first to admit that Hailey is not someone that would be on the top of my list of new shopping buddies, I don’t dislike her. I don’t think she’s a bad human out drowning kittens in her off  hours. We just don’t have a strong connection. We’re different types of women, different types of parents, and there is a bit of an age gap.  But I still like her! We have some significant commonalities that I thought would at least make us allies. Doug said “so just ask her”. Oh yeah right. Hasn’t the fact that I’m even having this conversation clued you in that I’ve been punted squarely into being a 11 year old that got left out of the birthday party?

I’m not sure how I’m going to handle the whole thing. I do know how silly it must seem to even care, but I do. It hurts my feelings and bruises my pride. My hard candy outside and evil gooey center hide a tender heart that bleeds easily.  So if I’m extra bitchy awesome for the next few days you can add this to the list of why.

I guess it’s time to update my press release.

Something New

For a while now I’ve been thinking about getting a website. There’s been no real reason behind it. Mainly…I just wanna. And in our uber-digital, drag-and-drop time, why the hell not? So I did it. I bought the domain and a year of web-hosting and set up www.brandystrange.com. Right now it’s a jumble of, well, nothing.  I’m still trying to figure it out and still playing with the settings.  I don’t know that I’ll ever really do anything with it.  I’ve thought about moving the blog there.  For now the decision is to keep the blog right where it is.  The Strange Times Facebook page will be updated with whatever is the most current site. 

In grand, Brandy-like fashion, it’ll probably fizzle out after a couple of months. But, who knows - this has some how managed to hang on for about 3 years – there could be greatness in store!

Stay tuned!

Make It SHINE!

Disclaimer: This here post is what’s known as “over-sharing”. If the knowledge that you’re going to be reading about something that happened to my va-jay-jay is a little more than you can handle I totally understand.  For the rest of you… you’ve been warned.

I bought a deal on Living Social for a Brazilian and eyebrow wax. Or, what I like to call the “Eye-brow and Thigh-brow” combo pack. This is something I’ve really wanted to do for a long time but never been able to scrape up the courage to actually do it! Toss it at me at 50% off and add in an eyebrow wax on top of it? Amen! I’m in there. Well, more accurately, the salon lady was “in there”, but we’re not that far in the story yet. Anyway. I was telling a girlfriend that I had actually bought the package and I was going to go do it.  She asked if I was nervous.

Um…d’uh! Lady with hot wax gonna pull the hair off my lady-parts! Yeah, nervous seems to cover it. Apparently what scared her the most was having to walk in the salon and saying “Hi, here’s my junk! Now wax it and make it SHINE!”. See, these are the people I hang out with.

I get to my appointment this morning and I’m nervous.  Jessica, the gal at Fleur de Lis Spa and Boutique, was super nice. She asked if I had done this before and if I was nervous (see above). Now understand that the salon was beautiful and there was The Beatles playing softly in the background. Could it be any more perfect? She hands me a “spa-panty” and tells me to get undressed from the waist down and put them on and she’ll be back.  I’m not really sure of the reason behind the spa-panty. Are we really trying to preserve my modesty when I’ve paid you money to rip hot wax off of my vagina with a narrow strip of muslin? I’m pretty sure there are 17 states in this fine country of ours where I’d be arrested for being in a room with no pants, another woman, hot wax and a box full of popsicle sticks in the first place. Modesty is really no longer an issue.

I’ll skip too much detail but will say that surprisingly it wasn’t that bad. No really. Like getting your eyebrows waxed… only not. There was only two spots where I was really questioning whether or not I could leave right then and have to later (willingly) explain to my husband why I had a partially bald vagina. 

Jessica says: “there’s usually one spot that feels like your vagina is actually getting ripped OFF” Gee, ya think.

I will say that the Brazilians are some twisted, Commie bastards.  I learned one inalienable truth of the universe today: Any time you’re laying on your side in a spa-panty and someone says to you “now don’t let your cheeks touch” nothing good is going to happen!! You’re not about to win the lottery. The Easter Bunny is not going to leave you a basket of jellybeans. Your husband is not going to finally take out the fucking trash without being asked (ok, that one might happen but I think that’s a different type of blog you should be looking at and I’m pretty sure you’re gonna need to be 18 and have a credit card). Oddly, not the worst part of my day.

For those that are wondering, totally worth it. And yes, I’d do it again. Are you really surprised?

Life Lesson #843

When riding in the car with Mom, don’t complain about the radio station. When I tell you “I like this station” do not continue to complain and request a change of stations.

Fine. What, you’re not happy? But, I changed the station.

Continued Mooooooommmm! Ppppllleeeeeaaaaaaaaaasssssssssseeeee! only results in us listening to Mexican radio for the remaining 10 minutes we’re in the car. LOUD Mexican radio. I kind of like Mexican radio.  I did what you asked, I changed the station. Next time maybe Mom will get to listen to what Mom wants to listen to in the car that…wait for it… MOM PAYS FOR!

 

Oh, and yes, I did know what you meant when you asked me to change the station. What’s that? It’s frustrating to have someone do something that they know is not what you wanted them to do even though they are technically doing what you asked? Really? Huh. Imagine that.

Sometimes life lessons are fun. For me anyway.

Breastfeeding Struggles

If you know me at all you know that I am an advocate for breastfeeding.  I think it’s fantastic! I hate the way formula is marketed to parents and what little education and help we receive for breastfeeding.  In the beginning breastfeeding is hard and a lot of work. Hell, sometimes that never goes away.  There are a very small percentage of people who truly can not breastfeed or who do not make enough milk – even with the help of all of the different things you can do to increase your supply.  Most of the problem comes in when in the first couple of months you don’t know what the hell you’re doing. You’re sleep deprived, you’re hormonal and you’re convinced you’re going to starve your baby. We all do it. Whether you’ve never put your babe to breast or she’s been attached to your boob since before the placenta was delivered.

Now for the record, not all of my children were breastfed until kindergarten. I’m not that chick. (If you are – Amen to you sista!) Krsyty was breastfed for about a month. No support or education and when I was worried the answer I got was “just give her a bottle, you don’t have to breastfeed her”. Um, ok. I’m 17, that works for me. Allie was born so tiny that she couldn’t use the calories it required to eat, so she was tube fed for more than 2 weeks. I pumped for a while and she ate what I pumped. But truthfully that didn’t last long. With Jane I was 22, had two other kids under 5 and there was zero support or education for me.  I also went back to work when she was 3 weeks old. They are all fine and perfectly functioning. I was formula fed. Although, now that I say that, I’m probably  not proving a very good point!

Fiona took to the breast like a champ! She nursed within minutes of being born and stayed there for almost 2 hours. She was a good, strong and efficient eater. She weaned herself at almost 12 months and went straight to milk. I had a clogged duct twice that never lasted for more than 12 hours. This was a dream! I couldn’t believe how easy it was. I spent my entire pregnancy with Georgiana dreaming about what a wonderful breastfeeding experience we were going to have. Boy was I wrong.

What all the breastfeeding propaganda (yep, I went there. It even feels that way to me sometimes) fails to mention is that sometimes it isn’t you. It’s that little person on the other side of the breast that’s the problem.  Babies are not born to breastfeed. They’re not born to formula feed either. They’re born to eat. That’s what they know. They know they need to eat and it’s our jobs to teach them how that happens. Being a parent does start that early, folks. Getting them to do it doesn’t always work the way we want it to. Yup, rebellion starts that early, too. 

Georgiana is a great baby. A GREAT baby. She has her father’s temperament. She doesn’t get riled easily, she’s not a fussy baby. She is quiet and content most of the time. I keep telling her that she needs to speak up or she’s gonna get left somewhere one day with the size of this bunch.  .

The problem is, she’s a lazy eater. L.A.Z.Y I tell ya! And we have some spit-up issues. And by spit-up issues I mean “holy shit where the hell is all that disgusting stuff coming out of her mouth coming from, I’m not even sure she ate that much, oh damn, now she’s choking” issues. When I took her in for her two week check she hadn’t yet reached her birth weight. Her doctor said to try to increase her feedings and add some pumped milk in to try to fatten her up a bit. She gained but not much. When I went in at my six week check-up she still wasn’t really gaining weight. She’s a slow eater. She falls asleep and stays that way. She only wants to eat so much and eating at the booby is work – did I mention she’s lazy?   We figured that because of how much she was spitting up she just wasn’t keeping the calories in she needed.  Dr. Merrill suggested that I “supplement” at her feedings. He never did say the “F” word, just let me come to that on my own, and I’m thankful for that.  We tried Zantac and that didn’t help. So I decided that splitting her feedings half breast milk/half formula was the best idea. It was giving her the extra calories she obviously wasn’t getting from me while still getting the benefits of the breast milk.  I tried a “gentle” version formula. It was better but could still be improved.  I switched her to a soy version and Holy Mother of God! SUCCESS! Looks like my girl has either a lactose sensitivity like me or a milk protein allergy that she’ll hopefully grow out of. The spitting is still there. After she eats you still have to be careful and whatever you do, do not lay the child flat. We have a weight-check appointment on Wednesday.  Fingers crossed that we see a “good” weight.

So for now I sit attached to this stupid breast pump and feeling like a dairy cow.  Thankfully I found this nifty bra…

Gee, don’t you wish you were me? Hint: I do not look this cheerful while hooked up to this contraption. Just sayin’.

Hang On Tight

This move has put me on an emotional rollercoaster.  I wasn’t prepared for that. 

Kraig and I moved a lot.  My older girls went to a different school every year until we moved here. The brass ring was always in sight and we jumped at it every time.  When Doug and I moved here it was a chance to settle down and have a family.  I don’t know how much I actually settled in here. There are things still in boxes from the move in. The garage is full of “I’ll get to it”. Things that need to be sorted or donated.  I was finally starting to feel like we weren’t going anywhere and this pops up.  It’s finally starting to sink in that we’re leaving.  In 30 days we’re on the road.  I’m having trouble wrapping my brain around it a little. Part of me has gone into moving-mode. Another part is fighting leaving this stability that we have built here. And yet another is trying to make the two work together. Oil and water, I tell ya!

In the last four years we have moved in together, gotten married, and had two kids. Doug’s had three jobs. Krystyne started high school. Allie started – and has now completed – middle school. Life has been created and lost in this house. I’ve made friends. Real, true and honest friends. I’ve found myself and defined who I am. 

I am in such a weird place. I am looking forward to the time with family. My cousin, Alfredo, that I was so close to growing up will live within blocks. I’m looking forward to getting to know another better (It’s all you, Rene!). My kids will be able to have grandparents, aunts, and cousins around all the time. We’re an obnoxiously social bunch.  When Doug and I got together I thought that it was an opportunity to have family close again. They’re a private bunch. The pop-ins and hang-outs I expected didn’t happen. I talk to my mom three times a week at least. She sees my sister about that much and my aunt almost daily.  While my mom makes me a special kind of crazy (stop acting all shocked, Mom) we do pretty good when we have our own corners to retreat to.  I haven’t lived this close to my family in 15 years or so.

And yet…

My friends are here. That sounds so juvenile and petty. You can almost hear the foot stomping. Which is good, because it’s there. Friends! For the first time in my adult life I have a good, solid, supportive group of girlfriends. Putting the call out that I need “mediocre-Mexican” means something (at 34 means something way different than it would have at 24!).When my life is overwhelming, or completely friggin’ awesome, there is someone that I can just call and share it with.  I have somewhere to be when my marriage or kids are trying my patience. A release when it seems like everyone in my house is tap-dancing on my last nerve.  I have support that I am actually doing a good job and not making my kids into serial killers because I don’t hug them enough. I have a reminder that no one ever died from an un-mopped floor. There’s someone to drink wine and laugh with. Someone to to giggle over girl-stuff until we cry.  These are the friends that you tell stuff your husband would be mortified if he knew what you shared with.

How do I find the balance? I don’t think I can.  For now I just have to let the “mover” in my brain take over and let the rest figure itself out. I think the physical act of packing is the hardest part.  One thing at a time I am removing myself from my home and the life I have built here.  With every closed box I am farther from the support I need so desperately right now.  Looking at my husband’s travel schedule for the next month is a great help.  It reminds me that in the next two weeks he will be home 5 nights. And the two weeks after that I’ll be lucky to see him while it’s still light outside – and that’s saying something for this time of year in Washington.

So if it seems like I’m hiding, I am. If I don’t venture out I can manage to hold off just a little while longer. At least in my head. If I don’t call, don’t come to visit or update Facebook I can feel like I’m not saying goodbye with every conversation.

I should go pack…