Random Thoughts

1. Road trip #1 was a success! Even though my air conditioning quit on me and poor Ladybug had to ride in just her diaper, everything went well. And she resumed her regular nighttime routine when we returned home and that was super awesome .

2. I feel like I'm on a familiar train ride . Like I've ridden this route before. I know these banks and curves, I know that this train is going to derail. Maybe not for sometime but I know it's coming. I guess I could wait to make sure that I'm right. Or I could get off now and save myself the drama.

3. #2 was intentionally cryptic

4. My laptop is dying a slow death. Emphasis on slow. It's 192 in computer years so I guess it's time to let go. But I'm not ready to let go of the money.

5. I love Hardee's. Every time I go out of town and have it, I crave it for weeks afterwards. Turns out, there's one 33 miles from my house, and I actually thought about going there . That's some kind if crack

Road Trip!

Next week I will be taking my first road trip with Ladybug. Seven hours in a car. I'm not exactly a fan of road trips to begin with. But, the thought of schlepping baby gear through the airport was not at all appealing, so open highway here we come!

I am happy to admit that I'm somewhat nervous. Our nighttime routine is awesome and part of me that worries she'll get off schedule and I'll never sleep again. And although she's boob fed and I have no qualms about nursing in front of family, I've never nursed in public.

Then there is the question of how much to pack. What if she goes on a pooping herself mission? Should I bring her bathtub? So many variables and I know I can't prepare for them all.

We'll figure it out, we always do.

Too Many Feelings

For as much as I like to believe I'm a simple person, with simple needs, I'm complicated as hell.  Sometimes, I don't understand me.  As a child, I was one of the most sensitive children, not only were my feelings on my sleeve, but it was so easy for me to get drawn into other folks feelings.  If someone else was sad, then I was sad too.  Eventually, I grew to see that side of me as a weakness, so I "locked it down". The only people who got to see that side of me were the people I allowed to be close.  I'm a friggin robot at work, and sometimes I lock down the emotions so tight that I'm surprised when they creep up - especially when I can't figure out why I feel a certain way.   I know I don't talk about my emotions enough. So I'm forcing myself to write.

• I'm obsessing over my moobies.  I want to make it with nursing until at least 6 months (with an ultimate goal of 1 year), and when Ladybug and I are together, it's not a problem.  But pumping and trying to keep up with demand is a beast! Maybe it's because I can see the numbers and obsess over them.  A bad pumping session can mess up my whole day.  I have a tiny little stockpile, it's enough to cover bad pumping days, but not for long.  And Ladybug is a big old hungry face.  According to the 457 breastmilk sources I read, her intake shouldn't change much, but the way she gets it could.  Like 3 6 oz bottles instead of 4 4.5 oz .  I'm adding cereal to her am feed 
• I work too far.  Gas and tolls are pissing all over my budget. And pooping - and there's no way around it.  I can't not go to work, that creates a whole new set of problems. 
• And that's really it.  So not that big of a deal when you look at the big picture, but in the moment it feels like a lot. 

A letter to 19 year old me

According to a lot of the "time travel" movies and tv shows, if you time travel, you must not under any circumstances run into yourself, the world will implode and the space-time continuum shuts down or something.  But what if you could?  What if you could go back in time and warn yourself about a really bad decision, or to convince yourself to take a leap of faith.  I've often wondered what 10 year old Michael Jackson would think of 40 year old Michael Jackson.  If he could say where his path led, would he have done differently?  Would I?

Oprah wrote a letter to younger her, and I can't say I read it (lazy and/or time efficient take your pick) but I did read a recap on a blog, which inspired today's post. 

Dear 19 year old me,

Although you'll never believe it, this is a letter from 32 year old you.  In many ways, I'm where you want to be, married with a house and a baby and a dog.  Momma and daddy are doing great, as are our siblings.  In other ways, my life isn't at all like the life that's going through your head.

• You're currently burning up the corporate ladder, you're going to be the youngest call center manager ever!  And you're going to be good at it.  Your employees will respect you because it's evident you care, and senior management will love your work ethic.  Be careful though, as much as it is awesome to be a "caring" manager, it's important to manage, and as much as you hate it, disciplinary stuff is a must. 
• You're going to get to the point where you think that you want to be VP of everything, that changes.  At some point, the sacrifices you make for work will cause problems in your relationship, and you'll have to choose.  I chose family, and don't regret it. 
• You've already met a guy who makes your heart sing, although you can't see it yet.  For now, you see it as fun, not realizing that you don't have the capacity for casual.  He's going to break your heart into a million pieces, but you'll forgive him.  He's a pretty awesome husband, and worth the struggles.  It's important to realize that you can't fix him, or right every wrong, or make up for his every injustice, and it's stupid to try.  It is your job, to help him be the best that he can be.
• You are super fly!  Even though you dress like a boy, and don't work what you've got.  You're not fat, you're thick and although fashion isn't a priority, you definitely should show off those curves sometimes. 
• LEAVE THE CREDIT CARDS ALONE! I realize that you're rich for a 19 year old, and you think you've got it all under control.  You don't.  And you will spend years trying to undo the damage you're doing now.  This is a lesson you will continue to repeat until you get it right.  
• No one expects you to be perfect, except you.  I know you don't believe a word of this, that somehow people will stop loving you if they're able to see your flaws.  The people who love you will always love you, flaws and all.  You're not going to learn this for a long time, hopefully you can come to grasp with this concept sooner than I did, because not understanding this will almost destroy you. 

Life is good.  There are ups and downs, but things are pretty wonderful here, you'll see sooner than you know. 

The hook up

Everyone loves a good hook up right?  Saving a few dollars here and there because you "know a guy", or know a guy who knows a guy.  Old me didn't believe in hook ups, thought they were a recipe for disaster, that doing things the cheap way would burn you, and you'd end up paying more in the long run. 

Then I became broke me, and the hook up became so much more appealing.  You could get stuff done for 50% off, or more.  Sure what you got was of a questionable quality and origin, but you'd saved a few dollars.  Or had you?  And by "you" I totally mean me.

It turns out, old me was so right.  99% of the time, the hook up is a big bad idea, or a least is is for me. I've ended up in worse situation, or have had to spend more money, or have lost time messing around trying to get a hook up that likely wasn't worth a darn.  

No more.  I'll pay full price, get a warranty and do things the "right" way. It's not worth the drama.

Random Post

This was a regular feature of my old blog, and it worked some I'm bringing it here too.  This can also be called "When I feel like writing but don't really have anything to talk about"

• I am getting new tires tomorrow.  And I have the nerve to be kind of excited about it.  What kind of grown up foolishness is that?  Who gets excited about tires?  Especially tires that cost way too much money!  Me I guess.  Although I may just be happy that I no longer have to clutch the steering wheel for dear life when there's a drop of moisture. 
• While they're doing my tires, Ladybug and I will saunter across the parking lot and visit Target.  Interestingly enough, I'm not excited about that... Maybe it is opposites day, or maybe it is just because the Target over there blows. 
• I've eaten way too much salt this week.  I've picked up a few pounds and my stomach is all distended like I'm 20 weeks. There is nothing cute about that! 
• I've been so bored at work this week I've literally almost fallen out of my chair.  That's not good.  If it does ever happen, I will continue to lay there.  Otherwise, people will outright laugh at you. 
• I'm totally sleepy.  But it would take way too much effort to walk up the 6 steps to go to bed. 
• My refrigerator decided that it no longer wants to dispense water.  That isn't cool at all.  Drinking from the tap seems wrong.  Even though it's the same water.
• I wish I could get new release movies in my house.

Working Momdom

For nine of my eleven weeks of leave from work, I was in denial.  I was oh so sure that I wouldn't have to go back, although I had no idea how that was going to work.  I didn't play the lotto, or find a work from home program, or start using that Nigerian email scam on people, I just had decided that I wasn't going back.  Until the Friday two weeks before my leave, when I took a deep, hard look at my checking account, then spent the whole day crying.  I HAD to go back to work.  It wasn't a choice, there was no option, I HAD to go back.

Being a working mom sucks.  Yes, sucks.  It sucks hairy, infected monkey balls.  I work because it allows me to live and provide for my family. I hate how rushed I am. I am rushed in the morning, I am rushed at night. On a typical week day, I have 3-4 hours with Ladybug, which includes baths, getting dressed, nursing, etc. That was the biggest adjustment, to go from seeing her all day everyday, to a few fleeting hours. And, if I'm honest, those 11 weeks will likely be the only time that we'll be together like that.  That's fucked up.

I wish staying home was an option.  I wish I could be here to see all of her firsts, I wish mine was the face she'd see when she woke up from a nap. But instead I live with mommy guilt, and continue to tell myself that by working, I am doing the best I can to take care of her.