Over-Sensitive Much?

I'm generally pretty easy going. And by that I mean I don't offend easily. Everyone is entitled to their opinion and even if I don't agree that's OK. I'm a big girl and I can deal with it. You're obviously an idiot because you don't see it my way but we don't all have to agree all the time. Let's just agree to disagree (and I'll be Judgy McJudgerson in my head. Mostly.)
There is one point when I am not entirely rational. I call it the Mock-Single-Mom. When a happily married, healthy relationship having (usually a SAHM) woman has husband or other significant other that is for whatever reason not home for more than a few nights. Sometimes it's a week or two. And then the comments start. "So done being a single-mom" or "God I hate doing the single-mom thing".  It sends me into a rage. It's not rational. I get it. I totally understand 100% what is being said and the message that is trying to be conveyed.  I do. Doing shit on your own when you normally have a loving, helpful, understanding partner in your life that is suddenly not there to do the shit that you need them to do for days on end blows. What do you mean I have to take out the garbage? ALL THE WAY TO THE CURB?!?! But that's his job. Insert feet stomping and pouting. Explaining to a toddler why Daddy can't give kisses because he's in Cleavland on business is hard (and almost overwhelmingly heartbreaking). When there's no way to tap-out of the monumental fit that's being thrown or the referee to come in when you're trying to decide if you can lock them in the dog kennel without the neighbors noticing for like 20 minutes, life does kind of suck. It's hard. Parenting is a two person gig. It really is. That's why it takes two people to make babies. You need two people for the whole process. And having that person you've come to depend on suddenly not be there when you really need them to be sucks. Especially on those days when he walks through the door and you yell 1-2-3 NOT IT! And run to grab a glass bottle of wine. They're supposed to be there. D'uh.
But they're not. Shit.
I guess my problem is that I take this comment personally. And I don't usually take shit personally; but this gets me every time. I've been a single mom. Being a single mom sucks rancid monkey balls. Especially in the first year (I wasn't really single much longer than that so that's what I know. I'm pretty sure it goes on no matter how long you're single). There is no one else. Even if you do have awesome family (I didn't) and even more awesome friends (I did) it's still all on you. ALL OF IT. All of the time. And no matter the custody situation, when it's your turn you're on your own. All of that worrying you do late at night, whispering your fears and insecurities to your husband in the dark? That's all on you. There's no one to whisper back that you're really doing OK and you're not fucking up your kids so bad they'll never forgive you. You fall asleep most nights exhausted trying to figure out how to make it all work out. There are good an happy times, because you have to make sure that there are. But for you, these times are peppered with guilt and frustration and regret that you couldn't make it better because it's just you. Every parenting insecurity you ever had is hovering just outside your peripheral. All. The. Time. The times when you think you're going to do it are there; when you're confident and think everything might just be OK after all. And then someone has a meltdown, or throws up at school, or, or, or, or, or... and there's no back up.  You realize just what the "single" part of single-parent means on a visceral level.
I think I take this so personally is because, for me, my divorce and decision to become a single-mom was the biggest failure of my life. I don't for one moment regret my decision. I don't think that there was anything that I could have done that would have saved my first marriage. However, I know in my heart that I did not do everything in my power to try to make it better. I could have fought harder. I could have tried 100 different things, but I didn't. I see it as a personal failure. It was my marriage and it failed. Therefore, I failed.  My ex-husband was an asshole of galactic proportions. He'll admit to that. When we failed, I failed. There is no one on this earth that will ever convince me differently.
This is my personal demon and it's hard to hear someone be flip about something that caused me so much pain. I know there is no malice in the hearts of my friends when they use this. It's a simple turn-of-phrase. These women are my friends! These are the women I turn to when I need to bitch about Doug not taking out the garbage - again. Or the size of my ass, or the gray hair I pulled out of my head, or any of another million little (and big) things I love my friends for.
I said I know this isn't rational. This is my issue. This is my crazy. So ladies, if I bite your head off, or leave a snippy comment, or don't guffaw at something obviously hilarious it's OK. We all have our shit, and this is just some of mine.
When your husband comes home, love him. Hug him. Put a little extra effort into whatever may need it so that you never have to stop bitching about being a single-mom because you're too busy actually being one.
With all my love,

What's All This Time?

For some reason I've managed to have extra bonus unproductive time the last few days. The girls have been keeping chores (mostly) done and the house isn't falling down around me. Yesterday there were NO DIRTY DISHES IN THE SINK! And the dishwasher wasn't full. Whuck? How the hell did that happen? No idea. You know what? Don't care. It happened. There's laundry that needs to be done but it's somehow magically confined to the hamper. Like there's dirty clothes inside the hamper! Usually there's clean clothes inside the hamper and dirty clothes, well, everywhere. Not right now. Nope. Don't care how that happened either. I could even vacuum my bedroom floor if I was so inclined (which I'm not - in case you were wondering).
The first person to mention it's only Tuesday gets punched in the face.
I've even managed to get something close to what resembles "caught up" at work. That means I have accounts I should follow up on, but I'm not getting bitched at about them and all the daily crap is done.
I have a ton of stuff that I could be doing. The garage needs to be cleaned out. The laundry could use a couple loads done. I could work more. But I'm not gonna. I'm enjoying the down time. I'm having fun playing with the babies, planning to shuttle the older girls, and hanging around on Facebook. Hell, I've even managed to get on here more than I have in the last 3 months! So I'm enjoying the time.
Next week I'll be back in full-force-chaos and getting things accomplished. But this week is mine.  This time is mine. And if I want to squander it I will. I'll be wondering where all the time went later.

I'm BAAAAACK!

So I've decided to come on back over to blogger. It's easier. For some reason having the website seems like work. And I don't like work. Especially work I don't get paid for. And while it's not really all that hard to post there, there just seems to be something different... something missing there that has kept it from being what I had here. I'll keep the website up and running and probably link the blog posts from here until I just don't anymore. When I think of it - if I think of it. This seems like extended Facebook posts, with the website I feel like if I'm not putting out something well thought out and coherent then I'm doing it wrong. Me, well thought out and coherent? Yeah, not so much.
The last year has been a whirlwind I'd rather not experience again. And while I am working slowly on getting my balance back I find that the soothing act of just writing has lost some of its flow.  Things here are in full swing of chaos-induced-normalcy. I feel like a storm chaser most days; Like I'm trying desperately to make sense of some raging act of God that is more random and harder to predict than the current power-ball numbers.
So here I am again. I can't wait to see what happens next.
Brandy

Time to Refocus

I've been restless lately. I've been trying to figure out what's been causing it and trying to figure out how to fix it. What I've figured out is I've not been taking enough time for myself. Not just quiet coffee time or time to relax, but no time to do anything for Me.
When you're up to your eyeballs in kids and work and home and and and and... you tend to let your self get lost in the shuffle. I've decided that the time I don't take for myself is just causing more chaos. There's no time to get my head on straight. There's no focus. There's no chance to see that everything is not falling apart when I feel like I am.
I am very lucky. I have a husband who understands how important this is. When he comes home at the end of the day and all the kids are alive and well the fact that the house is a mess, dinner is still only an idea I had once goes fairly unnoticed. I've managed to pass the laundry on to him and the bulk of the chores in the house to the kids, yet I still feel like I'm not accomplishing anything in a day. Fiona is in daycare full time. Where is my focus? I should have it all together and I don't. It's been bothering me. I've struggled getting everything done. I've struggled keeping my emotions in check. I've just been locked in chaos and  trying to figure out how to get out of this spiral.
So I decided it's time to refocus my attention back on myself. We've been here for about nine months now and I really haven't made many friends. I sent email requests to some Meetup groups. Time to dive back into the Mommy-Group-Circut. While I had a really bad first experience in the setting I was able to turn it around and met some of the most amazing women. I miss my circle of friends and the comfort they provided. I enrolled everyone in the local YMCA and have only once used the facilities. It's time to kick it up a notch. I've lost a good amount of weight since we've been in California but it's time to actually get myself in shape. We have a pool and I want to be able to use it without embarrassment.  I want to be able to look at pictures of gatherings where I thought I looked awesome when I left the house and not wonder how I gained 10lbs between the house and the car!
My belief is that if I can focus more on myself then I can be a better mommy and a better wife. If I concentrate on the woman then I can more adeptly handle the tasks my family need me to. I don't believe in putting everyone's needs above my own because then they are not getting the best of me. I think every woman/mother/wife should make sure her needs are met so she is better equipped to deal with the needs of her family. And yet I'm failing to do that myself. So here I go. Head first into caring for ME. Into being better to myself. I need to figure out specific goals.
What would you do if you could? Where would your personal work-shop start? What is something important to you that you let get lost in the shuffle?

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?

Hey guess what… I’m PREGNANT!

Well, d’uh! Right? Well, apparently I’m a little slow.  I know I’m pregnant. I’ve known for about 20 weeks that I’m pregnant. But it really just hit me in the last couple days.
Ok that sounds stupid, too. I’m sitting here trying to figure out how to not sound like a total moron but get my point across.
I’ve been wearing mostly maternity clothes for the last 16 weeks. My belly is expanding. I haven’t had a period since about June. I’ve had the ultrasounds and heard the heartbeat. We’ve named this little person I’m building and talk about her like she’s a relative coming to visit (“When Georgi gets here…”). I go to the doctor and I’m gaining weight. Doug lays his hand on my belly to feel her kick. I can’t remember the last time I was actually able to see my vagina! All of this and there just seems to be this disconnect between planning for a baby while caring for a large family like ours and having the complete realization that holy hell, I’m pregnant!  And the ridiculous thing that did it?  This picture…

No kidding. That was it.
I’ve seen pictures of myself recently where I look very obviously pregnant. But there was just something about this one that just flipped the switch for me.  And the picture isn’t even really of me.  It’s just a picture I’m in.  This is cropped with 90% of the picture cut out.  Still, sometimes there’s just something that makes it really, really, really REAL. I don’t know how else to explain it. I think if you’ve had kids before you understand. Otherwise, this is the best I can do.
I know, I’m a dork.
So we are down to about 16 weeks or so left. There’s still a lot to get ready for but we’re on the right track. I just hit a great Going Out of Business sale and got pretty much all of the clothes Miss Georgiana is going to need until she’s about 6 months old. I think I’ve picked out the double stroller I want and the co-sleeper I like. I’m working on sewing/designing a diaper bag.
Sometimes you just have to laugh at yourself and the ridiculousness that goes on in your head. At least I do. A lot. And most of the time I subject you nice people to this craziness, too. It’s an odd place in here, but I’m glad I’ve got good company. 
OK, now I’m hungry and I have to pee. Again. I am, after all, pregnant.

Faced with the past

Boy what an interesting week. I've been tossing this around my head for a number of days now and am still having difficulty with it. The decision to post it here is mainly a therapeutic one. Writing puts my head together, gets my thoughts in order. If ever I needed orderly thoughts!
I finally got in touch with Ken - Krystyne's biological father. Well, more accurately he got in touch with me. I knew who it was right away. There are people in your life that you forget, and there are people that you never, ever will, no matter how much time passes. Ken (for obvious reasons) falls into that category for me. We had a great conversation and he agreed that he would sign the paperwork needed by the attorney for Doug to adopt Krysty. That is just so wonderful. I'm excited for Doug and Krysty. I'm excited for what that means to us as a family. I was not prepared for what happened next - he wants to get to know her and be in her life. AMEN! HALLELUJAH!! Wait! What?!?! Sure, of course, absolutely. She can only, you both can only, benefit from knowing each other. Oh hell.
I was not prepared for the emotional backlash this would have for me. We've talked a few more times and he tells me I've opened up a whole can of worms here. He's got people to tell about this and things to explain. He faces answering questions that he's never had to answer before. I've told him I don't blame him, I've never really been angry with him. I understood his reasoning when I first got pregnant. We were young. We weren't ready - but I had a different decision to make than he did. I do not fault him for the choice he made. We all choose our own paths and that was where our path together forked. I was young and emotional and pregnant. I cried. A lot. But, I had to stand my ground in the decision I made. I shut the door on thoughts of him. Shut it, barred it, pulled a dresser in front of it and tossed away the key. Ken became this abstract thought. A fact but nothing more. Krystyne's biological father was someone I dated for a while when I was young, I got pregnant, we didn't stay together, I moved on. No, I don't talk to him and I'm not really sure where he lives. I hope he's doing well, I wish him the best, I'm thankful for the beautiful gift he gave to me. Let's move on. That is how it has been for 14 years.
And now it's different.
Shit.
We talk and it's easy. There is the underlying trying to figure out what comes next in this whole thing, but it's easy. I remember why we got along so well 15 years ago. I remember that we used to talk for hours. We had fun together and genuinely enjoyed each other's company. I've always remembered him fondly. The weird part of it is that there is this tangible other person that shares those memories. He's no longer abstract. He's real again. And he wants to talk to my daughter. His daughter. Oh holy hell.
When you connect up with an ex after a lifetime it's usually fleeting. You find each other on facebook, run into each other at a reunion or in your hometown mall. You catch up. Maybe you tell some friends "hey you'll never guess who I caught up with". If you're lucky you smile a bit at the time you had. You move on. What doesn't happen is you suddenly realize that you have a lifetime connection with this person. They are suddenly now, and will always be a part of your life. That doesn't happen! Oh wait, apparently it does.
Maybe I'm being selfish here. I know I'm being selfish here. This is a big deal for Krysty. I honestly had not thought about the "what if he wants to know her?" question. I got that a lot. It was easy. Sure, he should, that would be great for them. Doug asked me if I wasn't really expecting this. Wasn't I prepared for this? Well, no. In theory it's great that he wants to be in her life but I never ever expected it. It was best case scenario. Now I am faced with what that means. They talked for about 30 minutes on Sunday and she was thrilled. He sent some pictures and she smiled at them. A huge smile that mirrored the one she was looking at. Wow. This is real. This is happening. He exists. I'm happy for them.
We'll work this out. We'll figure all the ins and outs and subtleties of this new relationship between the three of us. Slowly, we will include everyone else that this affects. The quirks of this are what they are.
I just have to remember to breathe.

Wait... I paid for this??

I've finally made the commitment to do something about all the "left-over" baby weight. I've been talking about it for months. Since before Fiona was even born. Up until now I haven't really done anything proactive about it. I've whined and sulked and had another cupcake - but I haven't made any real effort to change how I look. I've never really had to worry about my weight. I've always been one of the fortunate few with a fantastic metabolism and good genetics. My body seems to know what size it is supposed to be and it stays that way. Something changed. I think it was turning 30. But now all this stubborn belly weight is hanging on. My clothes don't fit. My shape is not one I am happy to see in the mirror. I think this is some kind of bad karmic joke. I am finally happy in my own skin. My body was one I was proud of and I was comfortable with how I looked. I had my moments, but for the most part was confident. Apparently the universe feels that I have to earn that contentment.
I joined a gym. Sort of. It is a gym but not in the sense that you normally think. There are no machines. No treadmills and ellipticals, no weight machines that no one really knows how to use anyway. Well, I don't know how to use. They have a program called Cross Fit. I tried it out for the first time today and I have never had such an intense and difficult workout. I worked harder than I thought I could and used nothing more than my own body weight and a couple of bars. No machines or treadmills. I thought I was going to pass out. I was lucky I didn't throw up. And honestly I can't wait to go back! It's more expensive than a regular gym membership but cheaper than working with a personal trainer and works out to less than a latte a day. I just haven't figured out how to convince Doug that this is something we should splurge on. I'm going to go take some ibuprofen and try not to stiffen any more.

Valentine's Day

We had a wonderful Valentine's Day. After cards (all of the one's Doug got us made me cry) and chocolate we headed into Seattle. One of these days I WILL make it to Woodland park zoo. By the time we got into Seattle and had lunch it was after 2. The zoo closes at 4. No point in going for a couple hours. So we skipped it. Again. We will have to make that an early trip one day.
We headed to the science center instead. We have a membership there and should really use it more. But for us, using it twice a year makes it worth the cost of it. The girls had a good time. We went to the Lucy exhibit which was pretty interesting. Lucy is the oldest human remains ever found. There was a lot of history on Ethiopia and I really enjoyed it. I know it got a little long winded at the end for the girls but it was still pretty cool. There wasn't much time after to wander the rest of it but the kids still had fun. Whenever we go we make sure to go to the butterfly house. I love the warmth, the light and the butterflies all around. Fi could've cared less about the butterflies but it was fun for me.
It was nice just to spend some time together. Family outings are fun, we just need to do them more. Now that the weather is clearing up a bit I may look into some day hikes and such. Maybe we'll head to the falls or the coast soon. Even a good hiking trail to the mountains would be great. I should keep an eye out for some kayaks. I think the girls would like that.