piecrust promises

Hair today...

Someone really needs to convince me to keep growing my hair out and not cut it all off (again).

This is why I need to stop listening to the Mix Station.

Have you heard the new Taylor Swift song?  (How could you not, it's on the radio every 4 seconds on permanent loop...unless you happen to listen to a station other than one designated for 45 year old divorced women.)

It's driving me crazy.  Like I want to rip out my eyeballs whenever I hear it.  (Which I realize would do nothing to prevent me from having to STILL HEAR it...but you know what I mean.)  It's yet another Romeo and Juliet type song...and it's got the same fatal flaw as the rest of them...does no one realize that they DIE at the end?!  THERE IS NO HAPPY ENDING.  THEY DIE.  THE END. THEY DON'T GET MARRIED, THEY DON'T HAVE PUPPIES, AND THEY DON'T OPEN A MOM AND POP ANTIQUES SHOP.  DEAD. DEAD. DEAD.

Hence the reason it's called a tragedy. 

Yet, here is another stupid pop song about stupid Romeo and even stupider Juliet being oh so damn happy together foreva and eva ahhhhmen.

Taylor Swift was on CSI: Miami last night.  I couldn't tell you what happened or if she had mad acting skillz...because I was too busy grumbling about that damn song which also happens to be playing on permanent loop in my brain as well.

Anyone have anything else that could replace this song in my head? It can be equally bad...then I'd have something new to bitch about.

I wanna hit that hiiiiiigh!

I just spent the last 2ish minutes lipsyncing to "Wake Me Up Before You Go Go" in the bathroom at work. 

Because nothing starts off the workday quite like Wham!

Dooce made me do it...

Heather over at Dooce did this list that has been circulating around Facebook for a few weeks now...and while I have been tagged to do it over there...Heather told me that I could write it on my own blog...OK...she didn't tell ME personally...but it sort of feels like she might actually been speaking to me since I've been following her life for the last 4ish years...so when Heather says do something...I do it damn it.  And I'll stop talking now before I look like anymore of a crazed stalker/Heather leg humper.

Since I hardly every actually talk about my husband..here's a whole list about him!  He'll love this!  Hi honey!  I told you to stop reading the blog!  No good can come of it!

What are your middle names?
I used to have this great story about how I have a double first name and no middle name because of an error on my birth certificate...and then I saw my actual birth certificate and it turns out that everything is A-OK with two separate names and everything.  Turns out I was looking at my not-so-official hospital birth record...so there goes an endearing look-how-Southern-I-am-hee-haw-Billy-Bob! story.  Sigh. I hate it when I lose a good story.  My middle name is Kathleen...his is Edward.  Now if only his last name was Cullen...

How long have you been together?
Too damn long. Married for 3 1/2 years...dated for a year before we got engaged...and then there was those blissful few weeks long ago...when he dumped me on Valentine's Day.

How long did you know each other before you started dating?
I think we met and then just started dating each other...I don't remember anytime when we weren't dating.

Who asked whom out?
I think he asked me out...or asked if he could come and see me up in College Park.  I seriously don't remember.  He was just sort of there all the time.

How old are each of you?
I'm 27 and he's damn near 30 28.

Whose siblings do you see the most?
It's best if Joel's sister and I aren't in the same room (let alone the same state) for any length of time.  My sister is a 16 hour car ride away and my brother is a 3 day car ride away...so we never see anyone ever.  And that kind of sucks.  However!  People think that Joel and I are siblings all the time.  There was an incident at an IHOP when we were dating...and the waitress said how nice it was for Joel to take his little sister out to eat.  I don't know which one of us was more offended.

Which situation is the hardest on you as a couple?
I think the move down to Florida has caused a lot of problems...being this far away from family, friends, and places we know has been tough.  However, our entire married life has been in Florida...so maybe it's just my lovely mood swings that have been hardest.

Did you go to the same school?
Same community college...where we met and briefly dated the first time around...did I mention that he dumped me on Valentine's Day?

Are you from the same home town?
Yeah, close enough.

Who is smarter?
Durrr...me.  However, he is smart enough to know that...though he rarely admits to it.

Who is the most sensitive?
*Cough* Him *Cough*

Where do you eat out most as a couple?
Ha! You mean "where do you usually get takeaway or delivery most as a couple so you don't have to leave the house or shower or interact with the general public" right?  Papa Johns...large original crust pepperoni, cheesy bread, and those chocolate things that are really gross in a really delicious kind of way.

Where is the furthest you two have traveled together as a couple?
We used to do the 14 hour drive down from Maryland at least once a month before we actually moved to Florida.  14 hours in a car can really make or break a relationship.  We still laugh about some of the things that happened on those trips...including Joel refusing to stop at one of those interstate stands that gave away free orange juice and took pictures of you posing with an 18 foot alligator.  "Dana!  It's only a cup of free orange juice and it's just a statue of an alligator...we are NOT stopping."  I didn't speak to him for at least 2 hours after that.

Who has the craziest exes?
Ha!  Me. Oh so totally me...the stories I could tell!  But I won't...because any mention of any of my...ahem...lengthy perfectly reasonable length list of exes makes Joel all twitchy...and then he usually makes a comment about how he can't believe he married a slut.

Who has the worst temper?
Totally me.  I'll blow over nothing...Joel blinks absently at conflict and becomes some kind of Zen Master.  It drives me ca-ra-ze.

Who does the cooking?
Me.  I cook, he gets around to doing the dishes whenever I complain that I don't have anything to make Hamburger Helper in.

Who is the neat-freak?
It used to be me...and then after spending the first year of marriage acting like Martha Stewart cleaning up after him...I gave up.  We are both fairly slovenly now.  We do a crazy clean-a-thon every other weekend or so.  Please call before coming over.

Who is more stubborn?
Sigh...me.

Who hogs the bed?
JOEL!  And he snores too...like a lumberjack killing a cat while singing show tunes.  No wonder I'm so tired all the time.

Who wakes up earlier?
Joel.  But only because he has to go to work earlier...we take turns getting up early with the baby on weekends.  I miss the days when we used to sleep in until noon.

Where was your first date?
Roy Rogers.

Who is more jealous?
Definitely him...see question above about exes.

How long did it take to get serious?
Way too early.  In fact...I tried to break up with him because I thought things were going a little too quickly...and he told me that he loved me in the middle of my "it's not me...it's totally you" speech.

Who eats more?
Him.  Joel could finish off his entire plate, move on to mine, eat whatever the baby hasn't thrown on the floor and then complain that there isn't anything to eat in the house.

Who does the laundry?
Me...every Sunday.  Joel is responsible for removing his laundry from the dryer and putting all of his stuff away...which is why the dryer is still full of his stuff on Thursday...and will likely stay there until I dump all of it onto his side of the bed.

Who's better with the computer?
Me.

Who drives when you are together?
It used to always be that he drove everywhere...and that used to be fine with me as I am terrified of driving (even though I have to be in my car at least 2 hours everyday).  And then when I got pregnant, I started getting car sick whenever anyone else drives...and it just never went away.  Even now...2 years later...I have to drive just so I don't feel nauseous.  Also, during the pregnancy, his driving suddenly terrified me...so it's just better to let me do my granny driving instead of alternating between telling him to slow down and to pull over so that I can throw up.

How about you and your significant other?

Experiment #2974. Result: FAIL.

Somewhere far away or maybe real nearby, there is a little blonde girl with deep blue eyes who has spent her day quietly flipping through picture books, building grand towers out of a variety of responsibly forested wooden blocks, skillfully shimmying into a variety of organic cotton dress up clothes, and artfully drawing on recycled paper.  Her mother has been diligently chipping away at an important work project at the dining room table, pausing periodically to commend her lovely daughter's behavior, fashion sense, and environmental responsibility.  The evil television has been silent all day and a feeling of accomplishment pervades the house.  A husband comes home in good spirits, kisses his wife and tousles his child's hair.  He is pleased that the house is in order and that the savory scents of dinner are already wafting toward his nose.

I'm sure that somewhere this exact scenario is playing out as the day draws to a close.

Too bad it isn't in this house.

Today I attempted my latest ridiculous fantasy brilliant idea. It didn't go as well as I had hoped...it didn't go as badly as I imagined it could either...but still.  Every single toy Amelia owns is scattered throughout the entire first floor of the house.  An entire pack of wipes has been pulled from the box and each individual wipe has been either crumpled into a ball or used as a blanket for a variety of stuffed creatures.  A 94 pack of crayons has been evenly distributed between the couch cushions. Two banana peels, three sippy cups, an empty candy bar wrapper, an entire set of measuring scoops, and two boxes of spaghetti are currently housed in the bathroom trash can. At least the TV was only on for two Blue's Clues, one Franklin, three Lazy Towns, and an entire Go Diego Go DVD a little while.  Let's not even talk about the number of dishes in the sink or the number of crusty spots on Amelia's clothes.

However, I did get some work done...perhaps not as much as I would have liked to...but I certainly didn't get to spend as much quality time with Amelia as I had wanted to either.  I feel like I spent the majority of the day chasing her away from swishing stuff in the toilet, prying things out of her mouth, stopping the dogs from humping each other, and reminding myself that yelling does nothing to help control the noise level.

So I'm going to have to say that my work at home experiment was a failure.  Perhaps it would work if I had only light work to do that I could do for a while and then put on hold for some playtime...but not when I'm trying to muscle through a big project with a deadline that requires me to do things like concentrate or finish a sentence.  So in short, never...this idea will never work.

Especially not after today...while I was wrangling a baby and cursing about having the Go Diego Go theme song stuck in my head (Deep inside the jungle where nature's running wild, mumble, mumble, mumble, swinging from a vine, mumble, mumble, working overtime! DEEEAAAAGOOOO!)...my coworkers were getting laid off one by one. While I got several emails saying how nice it must have been to be away from all the chaos at work today...it couldn't be further from the truth. As much as I love my family, I actually spend far more time with my coworkers than I do with my husband and child.  And there were people that I have come to respect and cherish as great people to work with...but also as a sort of cobbled together family...complete with feuds and drama and a lot of laugher...having their lives turned upside down because of a crappy economy.  I felt horrible when I got the first phone call to let me know what was happening.  The first emotion was fear for my own future, followed by relief that I was spared this round, and then a pit of the stomach nausea over the fact that I would most likely never see some of these people again.  I wouldn't have a chance for a proper goodbye...that the fabric of my daily routine had been shredded and picked over.

My workday won't have the same flow of small talk and chitchat over kids and weather and primetime television.  I won't be able to say, "Oh so-and-so will be able to answer that" because they aren't there anymore.  It feels like there has been some sort of horrible accident...and the death toll keeps getting longer and louder.  Work will never be the same...and I can't even imagine what my former coworkers are feeling tonight.  Lost?  Betrayed?  Hopeless?

I wish the very best for each and every one of them.  I hope they find a new place to call their own...with new challenges and new coworkers to love and hate. Tonight, I'm not only mourning the fact that this whole work at home idea isn't going to be the answer to my whole I-feel-like-I-can't-breathe-being-away-from-Amelia problem...but also for the hardships and stress being felt by families all over Central Florida.

Here's to new opportunities and to enjoying the time that I do have with Amelia.  

And if it makes anyone feel better...here's proof of what an idiot I am...because what sane, rational person would think that finger painting (FINGER PAINTING + TODDLER) (HA!) was a nice, easy, relaxing activity to wrap up the day.

Break it down.

So I'm in the kitchen cleaning up after dinner and Amelia is out in the living room watching CNN with Joel. (The kid likes the scrolling tickers.  "WOOSSHH.  FASS PAPA! FASS! PITY! ME CACH!")  (That's "fast" and "pretty" and "catch" for those not fluent in toddler. Then she makes grabbing motions at the TV with her chubby little fists, shrieking with laughter...it's cute the first eleven times...and then you just want to yell, "Hey! Down in front!")  All of the sudden she gets really quiet and I turn to see what has caught her attention.  

And there is my child, staring open mouthed at our 44th President.  I come over wiping my hands on a towel, filled with awe that my child, who isn't even 2, can feel the power and hope radiating from this man. I lean down, thinking how adorable it will be if I can get her to say, "president" or "Obama" or "the second coming of Jesus."

She turns and looks at me with a goofy grin and says, "DEE JAA LANCE WOCKS."

NICE.

Hey! Jealousy!

So I think I've come up with my craziest idea ever...I'm thinking about trying to work at home with the baby twice a week.

Yeah.  Do actual work.  At home.  With an almost 2 year old who *might* be the Antichrist.

Now, I'm a firm believer that every mother "works" who stays home...but this is a bit different.  This is dealing with graphics! and websites! and maps! and things that people can only explain to me by using big! arm! movements! and things that need to get done now.

Then I started thinking about how great it would be to not have to wear pants all day and how I could very easily be 600 pounds and have my skin permanently graft to the couch from lack of movement with this setup.

And then I started thinking about money.  And I don't know about you...but I don't have any. But I could have some more if I didn't have to drive an hour each way to work...and I'd have some more if we could cut our daycare costs.

So out of curiosity I ran the numbers and figured that I could possibly save $300ish a month. Nothing to sneeze at there.  And if that means that I get to cut out 4 hours of sitting in traffic every week AND having to wear pants...plus I get to spend some more time with my own personal slave driver wonderful child, then I'm even more all for it.

 

But there is an even bigger reason for this whole crazy idea...jealousy with a side order of guilt and frustration. Recently, a dearly loved coworker (Hi Jane! Yes, I'm talking about you! Stop blushing...no one else who reads this knows who in the hell you are.) came back from maternity leave.  And while I was thrilled to bits to have my buddy back...I was surprised by a sudden surge of...something. And I couldn't quite get a hold of what this something was...I just knew that it was a dark and ugly something.  Something a shade of non-eco friendly green...jealousy. Jane is now working part-time.  Part-time...ahh...it just sounds magical. She also took a longer maternity leave than I did.  Mine was just 8 weeks. 8 short weeks...most of which I spent a sobbing mess dealing with a lovely case of postpartum.  And then after the money had really run out, I went back to work full time.  There didn't seem to be any other option...it STILL doesn't seem like there are any other options.  It feels like I squandered away those precious first weeks.

 

And then the guilt that has always been there bubbled up to the surface.  Perfect strangers have taken care of my child, day after day since she was 8 weeks old.  They spend more time with her than I do...everyday they have a full 8 hours of Amelia sunshine...and I get the leftover 4 hours of an overly tired, cranky, hungry, and generally grumpy toddler who just wants to go back to that place with all the songs and toys and craft supplies and cheery grandma types who call her "sugar"...and who can blame her?  Those 4 hours at home aren't even spent focusing on her...there is dinner to make, dogs to walk, a house to clean, a husband to tend to, a zombie mama who just wants to watch Top Chef...how do people do this?  I suck at this.    

 

At 2 years old...I'm already excluded from my daughter's life.  I have no idea what she does all day...this is something I was expecting to happen when she turned 13...not 2.  Yes, I know the daycare schedule by heart...I look at the clock on my computer at work and think, 9:15AM...I wonder what Amelia is making out of construction paper today, 11:45AM...Amelia must be sitting down to eat lunch now, 12:30PM...I hope someone remembered to give her the green blanket with polka dots for nap time, 2:30PM...I wonder what she's having for snack?  And on and on and on.  I know the mechanics...I just don't know the specifics.  Did she do something funny?  Did she learn something new? Did she get hurt?  Did she choose a new life ambition?  Did she learn how to drive? Is she dating? Did she smear paste all over herself and do some interpretive dance?

 

I have to do better than this.  I feel like I've already missed out on so much...insert whole "life's short" cliche here.

But here's the catch...can I actually do this?  There are several problems with the work at home scenario...the largest being how to actually get work done while interacting with a toddler...this isn't a good situation if the TV ends up babysitting all day.

 

Then there is the whole the-economy-sucks-and-I'm-lucky-to-still-have-a-job-at-all-and-if-I-start-working-at-home-people-are-going-to-assume-that-I'm-sitting-around-eating-bonbons-and-watching-Maury situation. (Is Maury even on still?  I mean really, how many more people out there need to figure out which of the 37 thugs is the daddy?)

So I'm going to be doing a test run this week...before I go spouting off to someone about my whole new child friendly, earth friendly, wallet friendly, oh yeah and totally work friendly idea here.  What a concept...me TRYING something BEFORE spouting off about it.  Ha!  

Wait a minute...this blog post doesn't count as spouting off first right?

Riiiiggght.

Maniac.

I just got back from screaming at my next door neighbors...again.  This was not the sort of new hobby I was looking for.

Tonight, I was over there because their poorly chosen, unimaginative techno music was causing such vibrations that I had frames in danger of parting company with the wall.  The last time I was over there was because they had thrown bags of garbage out into their driveway...four days before trash day...and the next morning (predictably) animals had ripped the bags open and scattered dirty diapers and bloody maxi pads all over our driveway. The time before that was because their fire alarm had been going off for hours (HOURS! and these hours started at 1 in the morning) while they sat and looked at it...waiting for the battery to die.  The time before that was because they were cooking what suspiciously smelled like roadkill in their garage (IN THE GARAGE. ON A HOT PLATE. A FUCKING HOT PLATE)...again...like they had every other night of that month.  (As you can probably tell...that really, for some odd reason, pissed me off.)  And then there was the very first time I ever went over there...about 2 months after they first moved in...the time where I had asked very politely if they could please, pretty please, mow their grass...as it was in danger of peeking over the top of the fence.

And every time it has been the same....well, almost the same.  They always have the same reaction. They act as though they have no idea who I am...the face that answers the door always looks politely puzzled over the fact that someone has found reason to ring their doorbell.  And then the puzzled look turns to innocent confusion...because as soon as I've finished explaining (once again) that I live right next door, they pretend that they don't speak English.  Not a single word.  Which is very funny...considering that each time, as I make my way up to their porch, I can understand every word of the idle conversation emanating from their house perfectly.

No, their reaction has stayed the same...it's mine that changed.  I started as the friendly neighbor asking if they needed to borrow a lawn mower for a little yard TLC since they just moved in and must not have gotten around to getting one yet.  Then I moved on to the slightly annoyed neighbor who inquired as to what the hell was wrong with their oven inside their house.  Then it was the worried neighbor coming to see if their house was on fire, looking to see if anyone needed rescuing or a glass of water to put out the blaze. Then it was the angry disgusted neighbor who tried to mime the contents of her driveway.  But tonight, I suppose the culmination of things just got the better of me...and I was over there not ringing the bell...but pounding my fist on the door..."I know you're in there, you've only got seconds to flush the drugs" style.  And then as soon as I caught the first glimpse of that puzzled expression...I lost it.  Even someone with a lifetime grasp of the English language would not have been able to understand me.  My two minutes on that porch were nothing more than a long stream of screamed profanities.  I think I said the f-word at least 12 times in that span of time.  

But that didn't feel like enough...it was as though I had this big jug o' angry buried somewhere...and this was only skimming off the top.  I walked back up my own sidewalk and onto my front porch shaking with anger...and now...nearly and hour later...I'm only starting to calm down.  I did, however, admit to Joel that I had handled the entire situation badly...and then yelled at him for not going over there instead of me...since he's so much better at holding his temper than I am.  I don't know if it's my neighbors that caused this giant vat of anger, or if it has been there for a while, just waiting for an excuse to spill on someone.  

I feel alright now...perhaps even a bit remorseful for my behavior...but if I hear even a single note of techno...

All bets are off.

Blue...huh. Interesting.

Ever gone into the bathroom and been totally surprised by what underwear you were wearing?  Not in a, "OMG...these aren't mine!" kind of way...but in a puzzled, "I have zero recollection of putting this particular pair on this morning...and no memory of seeing these any of the other four times I've been in this stall today" kind of way.

I would have loved to see what my face looked like while pondering this...eyebrows scrunched together, mouth twitched to the side...wondering.  And now I'm wondering how many other things have slipped through my radar...things that I once would have noted and logged away for future use...no matter how trivial.

It's like when you're driving and you suddenly arrive at your destination with no recollection as to how you got there.  That's my whole life lately.  If it wasn't for television...I'm not all that confident that I would know what day it is.  ("You could usually rely on Dudley to know the days of the week due to television programming") (Sorry...random Harry Potter line...see!  I can remember that...but I can't remember the color of my underpants!  What's wrong with me!)

The days all go by in a blur of routine.  I get up at the same time every morning, go through the same motions to get myself ready, the baby ready, lunches ready, out the door.  Same song and offensive maneuvers to get Amelia in the car, smiling vacantly at the minorly amusing morning radio program, same idle chatter with daycare, same lead foot to get to work.  Same file, same discussion, same lunch.  Same discussion over who picks up the baby.  Same rush to daycare, same lack of information about what my child did all day...already I'm excluded from her life...and she isn't even a teenager yet.  Same drive home, same collapse onto couch, same crappy dinner, same television shows.  Day after day, week after week, until I die.

I need a new hobby.

Conspiracy!

 

Someone in this photo has been eating my blog posts.  There have been a collection of smudgy fingerprints and suspiciously short hairs found all over www.piecrustpromises.com.  The investigation is still underway.

I'm now weighing the pros and cons of simply giving up and forgetting my year-ish long foray into the world of blogging...or do I refocus and try it again?

Jury is still out.