Rumble, rumble

Hello?
"Hello Back"
the vast emptiness of the Ethernet responds.
Yes, its true boys and girls. When one has a blog, it is considered in good manners to post on said blog.
Thus, I throw myself at the mercy of the one or two of you that still check this thing for posts and will hardily resume my rambling ways.

It would seem that the ensuing lapse of time since last we visited would have me with many, many stories to fill the gap.
Alas, that is not to be the case.
Not that things haven't been afoot.
We have showered -- both in the party and literal sense. Congrats to Annie on her upcoming nuptials and we gave mom-to-be Lisa a good few carloads of baby gear to prep her for the arrival of her little girl.
We have celebrated Finn's 3 month birthday.
We have worked. And gotten really annoyed with work process. Creating documents to say that we don't need documents seems a little, what's the word? -- oh yeah -- STUPID and WASTE OF MY TIME.
We have decided that our house will probably never really be clean again. And we are learning to live with that decision.

But there are two things that have caught my attention in the last few days that I feel the need to share.
One happened just last night.
Did you feel the cosmos tremble a little bit? No, really? Not even a little nudge?
Well you should have.
Last night. I get home with the little leprechaun in tow. Drop the 80 metric tons of shit that come with me and him (again figurative and in some cases -- literal) and say Hi to Joe. We small talked, blah, blah and then he says...
Drumroll please...
"Hey, do you mind if I meet my brother out and we watch some of the baseball game tonight?"
I will grant you, just reading that sentence in and of itself, nothing special. A seemingly simple question with what I am sure should be a simple answer.
What rocked my world, and the aforementioned cosmos was that he ASKED in the first place.
Refrains of "He can be taught" went bouncing around ye olde' noggin.
Don't get me wrong -- I am totally for guy time. Mainly as I am totally for girl time and without one -- you don't get the other.
Nor do I consider myself lord and master over the house and all who inhabit it.
But lets just say that the road to asking rather than just doing, assuming or what ever other "ing" is relevant, has been long, bumpy and more than a little rough in spots.
It was a milestone in my world. One that I hope to repeat often.
For the record, of course I was like -- knock it out of the park. Have fun. Thanks for asking.
See - I can play nice on the playground when needed.

Tonight should be another doozie of an evening.
See, we are getting Finn baptized this weekend.
Yes - our little heathen, bastard child is getting right with God.
I kid of course -- but we are going through with it. Its the right thing to do and keeps grandparents really happy.
Tonight we are meeting with the deacon that will perform the ceremony. Seems the parish priest doesn't do them anymore.
Fine, cool. Moving on.
Well, I just know that at some point along the way, the whole marriage -- or lack thereof -- will come up. Should be a good time.
This also means that our house needs to get rocked in a cleaning-up, we have 30 people coming over Sunday sort of way. Keep your fingers crossed that I actually manage to pull this off.
Alrighty then.

That should get us somewhat up to speed. At least I hope.
Out.

Now Listening: Let It Die by Feist

The modern mom

Finally a quiz I can get behind.
Not that I really want to know the answer, and this isn't a Facebook quiz to tell me what "Sex in the City" character you are - Miranda, for the record.
Nope - this one is a in-your-face indictment of your time management and your priorities. Or what you think your priorities are (should be?)
Take the quiz here
And here are my results.

I don't drive as much as the average person. Shocker. I live in Des Moines, IA -- not Chicago. And I have a reverse commute. So its not bad at all. I don't sleep as much and I spend more time with my kid. Chalk those two up to the fact that I have a 2.5 month old that requires a little more time with mom -- do I hear Mom-cow??
And sadly, like most of my fellow quizzers, most of my time goes to work.
Blech.
Of course, the lack of time spent on household chores might explain the current clutter-filled, dust-bunny laden state of my home. Which at this point, I would spend some serious cash to have someone come clean top to bottom. However, that is off the possibility list until I get a feel for what daycare is going to do to the monthly budget. Although, I can surmise what it will probably do and that can be captured in one word: OUCH.
So until then, I will run a Swiffer every now and then, keep pulling laundry out of the laundry basket -- clean mind you but not put away, occasionally run the vaccum to get the heavy cat hair off the carpet and the couches and try to load/unload the dishwasher.
Ah, the perils of the modern woman. Dodging dust-bunnies, while texting and getting work emails on the smartphone, kid on one hip and trying like hell to keep the eyeliner from smudging. It's the picture of togetherness that I always envisioned.

Now Listening: 9 by Damien Rice

The view from here....

I don't make a habit of looking back. It tends to muddy waters that have already been sufficiently muddied. And, that whole 20/20 vision in the rear view mirror thing.
But today, did cause me a moment of pause.
And for the record, I really don't make a habit of looking back on tax day. That is often a very painful recollection. At least for the last few years.
No - today marks the two year anniversary of when Joe and I broke up.
It is also his birthday.
Its the whole breaking up with someone on their birthday that tends to stick in ones mind.
I think its fair to say that the ensuing two years have brought about some rather unexpected outcomes.
We are now living together, raising a child and in a scarily good place.
Fate has a sick sense of humor. I have learned that railing against the cosmos is probably not the best approach. As just when you think you have the fates beat, they throw the curve ball. And its never the same pitch twice.
I will offer this up on this rather reflective day of mine.
While the road to this point has been bumpy to say the least, more than a little sad and a learning process along the way.... I can honestly look at my life, right now, today and be totally content with it.
I mean, yes -- I would like a few more $$ in the savings account, to lose 15 lbs and eliminate stupid drivers from the road -- but on the big things -- its amazing.
I am surrounded by friends that love us. Even if I don't see them nearly as much as I would like.
I have a beautiful little boy who after a mere two months, I cannot fathom not having around. A boyfriend that has made a lifetime of change in a few short months. And who starts this next year of his life with a whole new perspective on life
And a family that supports us every step of the way.
That kids, ain't too bad for a Wednesday.

Now Listening: Rockferry by Duffy

Weekend Update

Happy Belated Easter to everyone.
Yes, like all the other C & E Catholics, we went and got our God on yesterday. That's Christmas and Easter Catholics for those of you not in-the-know.
I remember how much my parents used to get annoyed with the C & E's because it meant that we had to be at Mass like, 800 hours before things started just to get a seat. And we were there every week.
That was my parents. We however, are not so good at getting to church on a weekly basis. But we made it -- on time, with Finn in tow and he behaved the whole Mass like a good little leprechaun. Oh, and he looked rather styling as well. He was rockin' the sweater vest like no other 2 month old there.
Easter to me is not a huge holiday. I know from a strictly theological standpoint it is sorta the big one, but not huge in my mind. Which is why -- in a very commercial, non-theology based move, I decided against waiting in line at the mall like the 8,749 other families on Saturday for a picture with a large stuffed rabbit - aka the Easter Bunny.
Martine had a good point -- when you go to see Santa, its for a purpose. To let him know what you want for Christmas. The Easter Bunny just brings stuff on principal -- candy, chocolate, eggs.... you get the idea. You don't actual engage with the Easter Bunny, you just sit there, smile (hopefully) and go about your business. So it wasn't a big deal.
Additionally, I don't think that Finn will look at me accusingly in 15 years and be like"Mom -- why don't I have any pictures with the Easter Bunny?!?!"

And in a terribly devout mood, we made it home from Easter dinner with the family in time to see the season finale of Rock of Love 3.
Yes.
It pretty much undercut any and all moral high ground I had gained by attending church that morning. In fact, I am fairly sure it set me back a few more Christmas and Easters. But I have to watch.
Its like that wreck on the interstate that you slow down to look at even though you know its wrong and you aren't going to like what you see.
It was the finale people.
His ROCK OF LOVE.
Complete with Ring!!!
That was a new twist this season -- never had a ring before. And I was pulling for our sweet-Southern girl-next-door Mindy. But instead, he went with the batshit crazy, Penthouse Pet of the Year -- Taya.
Ick. Gross. And ick some more.
Joe called it -- and I was still disappointed.
Of course, we were watching and Finn is sitting in our laps and we are watching with him. I felt sorta bad. Like I should be covering his eyes or giving him a bath after the show was over.
Bad parents.
I need some Baby Einsteins or something. At least then I wouldn't feel as guilty about the pull the TV has over my kid.

What else?
Adding insult to injury -- on this rainy, wet, overcast Monday (never a good start to the week in and of itself) today was Finn's first day at daycare.
Boo.
Don't get me wrong -- as I have mentioned before, I have no dreams of being a stay-at-home mom. Not my thing. And I knew this was coming, but it was still hard to do.
He just looked at me with these big, innocent, happy eyes and was like, Ok Mom -- leave me with perfect strangers. That is just fine. I will cope.
The worst part is that I know logically that he is fine, in a good place with people that have his best interest at heart. However, I never went to daycare. My mom stayed at home for all of us, so I have no point of reference for what I am subjecting him to.
Millions have done it before me, millions did it today and millions will do it tomorrow, -- it just makes the whole idealistic, newborn patina that I have painted over this whole domestic scene erode.
Bah.

Now Listening: August and Everything After by Counting Crows

Stats lie

I am opinionated.
Of that there is little debate. And I do like to at least think that my opinions are well thought out and bare some merit on their own standing.
I throw this out there as I am about to go on a little rant about an article I read yesterday.
You can read the article here on CNN.com
First of all, it took me a few sentences into said article for me to realize that I am now one of the statistics. That in and of itself took me a little bit of time. And I think the reason that it did, is that MOST of the article is versed in terms of not just out of wedlock births, but being raised by single moms. I have immeasurable respect for single mothers. No matter what the path that got them to this point in their lives. Having done this mom thing for a mere two months, I cannot fathom how one does it alone. And we have (knock on some SERIOUS wood) not had any issues in those two months to really challenge us.
And so I feel a little odd being lumped into that category - because aside from a piece of paper, Joe and I live together, we are raising our son together and we are by every definition I can think of, minus again, that damn piece of paper, a family.
The other thing that really chapped my ass - large, white and otherwise, was this little nugget:

Along with magazine-cover grabbers like Angelina Jolie and Bristol Palin,
Hoffman, today a 39-year-old mother of three, is part of a now record-breaking
trend of women who give birth outside of wedlock.

Ok read that.
Now read again.
Bristol Palin is not a trendsetter in my mind.
She is a 17 year old girl who, like many 17 year old girls before her, let her hormones get the best of her and will now have a lifetime of responsibility to remind her of that. But she is not, in my mind a woman. She is still in high school, still living at home, still dependent on her family to support her financially. Now, I will grant you, its her mother that created the drama as the VP candidate, but to count her or even CONSIDER her as a trendsetter -- is nutso.
And times that by about a ba-zillion when you consider the "trend" that is being discussed.
Because believe me, it wasn't like I sat around and thought to myself, "Self, you know what I really want in 2009? A baby!! Yep, all the cool kids are having them and I need one"
No.
Not really.
Not at all.
But once it happened, it wasn't like I WAS a 17 year old. I was 32 years old, with a good job, benefits, a home and the means to support a child. And a father that wanted to, and has been from day one, a huge part of his life.
Maybe I am looking to justify it because this isn't how I thought this would happen.
But what in life does? I mean really.
I didn't plan on my mom passing away before I had kids. Or got married. But she did.
And we have made it.
I guess what I am saying is that while the situation isn't ideal, you really have to look at each situation on its merits. And that is where nationwide studies like this fall short because I am now in the same statistical category as a 17 year old girl who is still totally dependent on her mother.
I am also in the same category as Angelina Jolie.
And well, there is about zero in my life that puts me in the same category as her, so the other end of the spectrum isn't accurate either.
Snargleblatt.
The whole thing just irks me.
And thus, I shall close the chapter on my statistical trending rant.
I never was good at math.

Now Listening: Moondance by Van Morrison

Does this mean I am a prude?

Clearly I don't have an issue saying what's on my mind.
And clearly, there are few topics that I won't touch in my ramblings.
I feel that is ok as this is a place for me to dump the contents of my brain and people can choose to read or not.
Unlike, say TV.
And there are those that would argue, if you don't like what you are watching, change the channel.
Makes sense.
Except when it is a commercial that is the cause of the WTF? eyebrow raising moment.
I mean unless, you have TiVO, you can't fast forward through the commercials.
Perhaps you have seen this one.
Women are shown walking around from various activities. Leaving the tennis courts, the show, running ...you get the idea.
And as each on walks by a bush, it changes shapes. And then you realize its a commercial for an electric razor and trimmer and we are infer that the shapes that the bush changed into as the respective woman walked by is well.... yeah.
Don't get me wrong, I am all about keeping stuff cleaned up and well manicured. However, the blatant broadcasting of said preferences as a marketing tool seems a little, well, gross.
And it certainly isn't going to make me run out and by said trimmer.
Have I lost it?
Well, I mean specific to this topic.

Now Listening: How We Operate by Gomez

You could write a book

Oh, the things they don't tell you.
To say that pregnancy and the birth process is a well documented experience, is sorta like saying the sky is blue. I mean, come on -- when a Playboy Bunny can write a book about it, then you know the cannon is fairly well covered. That's Jenny McCarthy for those of you that didn't know.
I felt then, that there was little that I could offer to the world in terms of new insight on the process. However, there is that period after you have a baby -- both immediately and like, 2 months afterwards that gets little press.
What they don't tell you could actually fill a book.
Its like a secret ritual that you have go through to enter the mommy sorority.
I though hazing was a frowned upon activity, but oh well....
I will save you all the gory details and some of the less, erm, socially acceptable pitfalls that befall most women. Yes, as a new member of the sorority, I have drank the kool-aid, learned the secret handshake and will now keep some details to myself. But there are a few that I feel can be discussed.
Your figure.
I know, I know. Why persist on a topic that plagues most women anyway? Regardless of their childbearing status? I bitched about it before I got in a family way, so I reserve the right to continue merrily down that path.
And in keeping with the trend that the media has so willingly given us -- you see all the celebrity moms that looks like, well rock stars, 4 weeks after their kid arrives.
This is what I think, You hear stories all the time of people that just "lost the weight, I swear I didn't do a THING"
These people fall into two categories:
1) the aforementioned celebrity or 2) 23 year olds whose bodies just bounce back.
As I am not a celebrity packing a doctor that does a C-section and a tummy tuck at the same time, a personal trainer and chef nor did I start out as some size 4, rail thin 23 year old, this has become an issue.
An issue that has manifest itself through my closet. I have been working on getting all the donated pregnancy clothes back to their respective donatee's. Thus, I have had to go back into the hazy, Rubbermaid bin filled world of pre-pregnancy clothes to fill the closet back up.
Problem. I am still about 4-5 lbs off my pre-pregnancy weight. And while 4-5 lbs shouldn't cause major issues, its where it is living that is the problem.
My boobs are HUGE. And I have a tire right round' the middle. So none of my pants will button and my shirts are too tight.
Even my "fat clothes" (yes girls, you all have some in the closet) are pushing it.
Which means that I am going to have to go buy NEW stuff. And while I normally enjoy a good round of retail therapy, having to buy stuff because nothing fits is not a fun shopping trip. Unless of course, its because it is too big. But I haven't had one of those shopping expeditions in quite some time. Nor will I at the rate I am going. Because in order to get into a smaller size, one needs to actively make an effort to BE a smaller size. Right now my main goal is sleeping for more than 3 hours at a stretch. Not making it to spinning class on a regular basis. Of course, based on the above 3 paragraphs, my lack of willingness to fix said issue does not preclude my desire to bitch about the problem.
Sex.
Clearly having sex is what got me into this situation in the first place.
Yes dear reader, this wasn't some immaculate conception. Shocker I know.
But there comes a point when you can't use the "I don't have the ok from the doctor yet" excuse anymore. Because his books let him know exactly when that mystical, magical appointment should roughly take place.
But let me paint a picture for you -- one some of you are all too familiar with. For some, welcome to the harsh reality of parenthood.
You haven't slept a good solid night in, oh 3-4 months. The last month of pregnancy is a bitch for sleeping, and after munchkin, well yeah. You are wearing an old ratty t-shirty and the only pair of work out shorts that fit. Said t-shirt is covered in baby spit up and leaking boob juice. Which creates a nice, slightly curdled milk smell to your outfit. You haven't showered in at least 24 hours. You haven't shaved in like, a lifetime. Anywhere.
There is a baby in a bassinet RIGHT next to your bed that could wake up at any time.
And this, this is a picture of attractiveness? I suppose kudos should be offered up to anyone that can see beyond this picture of less-than-hotness and still have a modicum of desire, but wow.
I just can't get there from here.

Whew.
I feel better and I hope you have learned something.
Now Listening: At Last! by Etta James