sueeeus

I have so very much to be thankful for, but this…  …this lights up my life and fills my cup to overflowing.

Bliss.

Happy Thanksgiving!

Have you ever heard the one about finding a worm in your apple?

Not finding the other half.

The same goes for salads.  And finding a bug.  Or part(s) of a bug.

EWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW.  I know, get over it, if it were that disgusting, you would have noticed it when you ate it (if in fact you did).

And I wash my lettuce meticulously.

But not meticulously enough.

Apparently.

The washing of lettuces and all manner of things in which creepy crawly things might seek refuge is from henceforth escalated to a level of scrutiny far and beyond meticulous.

I am so squeamish, I’d never make it as survivor (wo)man.

EWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW!!!!!!!!!!!

Maybe I should be calling you GB instead of LB, my Giggle Box, Gorgeous Boy, Googlie Bear.  You are just so darned adorable, especially when you giggle.  And I hate to stifle you in any way, but when I have an international teleconference discussing very important work matters, it would certainly help my fragile semblance of professionalism if you could, ummmmm, keep it down a bit?

It’s a very good thing that I have a mute button on my headset.  It’s also a good thing that I didn’t need to contribute much to the discussion.

You are so much more active during the day than your brother was.  I recall he slept most of the time during my working hours, up until he was five months old.   You, on the other hand, are a GIGGLE BOX!!  Which I love.  Absolutely adore.  However.  I think I will be sending you to daycare after we herald in the new year.  Because, how can I concentrate on the serious matters of Corporate America when I’ve got a Googlie Bear Giggle Box bouncing away in his bouncy chair at my feet?  I ask you!  So I’ve just perused my work calendar, and it looks like I have between 10 to 14 working days until the new work year begins, depending on how many vacation days I take.  I think we’ll be able to make it.

I’m sure going to miss you, but that will just make the moments when I do see you all the more sweet.  Prepare to be covered in kisses!

One of the reasons I get very little blog traffic may be that my blog sometimes suffers fatal errors.  Lucky these fatal errors aren’t permanent fatal errors.  Although today was a close call.  After the fact, and many hours after discovering that all was dead in the water, I learned that the server on which all my domains reside had suffered the blue screen of death.  Very frustrating.  But my support person, and it’s almost always the same person, is top notch.  However, it’s still frustrating to be dead in the water for an entire day.

I’ve said it before.  I hate technology.  Now, if I had any wits about me, I’d run some backups, just in case.  Too tired right now though.  Maybe tomorrow.

There are two main trains of thought milling about my head right now.  One is that I need to go back to the office.  Need to.  Need some adult interaction, a change of environment, and a better defined routine.  Need it.

The other is that I have a new goal that I need to explore and fully define, but it’s a goal, nonetheless, and it’s important.  I’m sure it’s a repeat goal that I’ve attempted before, and abandoned, but it’s time for a resurrection.

There.  About the office.  I don’t recall feeling this caged the last time I was telecommuting full time.  Maybe it has something to do with the time of year.  BB was born in January, so spring was springing when I was returning to work.  There was more sunshine, there were flowers blooming, there were afternoon walks.  LB was born at the end of August, and we’re fast forwarding past autumn and into winter.  There is rain, and more rain, and wind and more rain.  The sky is darkening by 4 p.m.  Did I mention the rain?  There are no lovely afternoon walks, unless mad dashes through Costco and Fred Meyer count.  I’m only working three days a week, taking Tuesdays and Thursdays as vacation days so I can catch up on the sleep I missed while working Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays.  Having over 20 years under my belt has its advantages.  I get 4 weeks of paid vacation a year, and I can roll a full year over, so I’ve banked 8 weeks that I’m using now, and I can spread it out for quite some time.  I think I can work 3 days a week until April, in fact, and still get paid for full time.  Woot!

But something is different and I’m feeling house-bound.  Stir crazy.  I don’t necessarily get more work done at the office, but it sure is nice to see people, and, dare I say it, social anxiety or not, be seen.  I miss my peeps.  Over twenty years with some of these people make them family.  We’ve spent the better part of our lives together.  I miss that.  I miss them.  I actually brought up the mother’s room calendar today, to see how many people were using it, and if I could fit my pumping schedule in.  A couple of the women have dropped out, and there’s a new one, but it looks like there is room for me.  Do I want to drag my pumping gear around with me?

And then there’s the pang, big time, I feel when considering sending LB off to daycare earlier than later.  He’s only a baby for such a short short time, and what kind of a person am I to send him off when I actually could keep him with me for a little while longer.  As long as he’s not interfering with my work, it’s reasonable to allow him to stay, and since he’s still sleeping through most of my working hours, it’s okay.  So if he’s sleeping, does it matter that he sleeps at my house or at the daycare?  I think I’ll consider starting him at daycare in January, after the bustle of the holidays is over.  He’ll be a little over 4 months old.

Sigh.

Did I mention that I Googled child care rates across the country and found that I’m fortunate enough to live in one of the more expensive states?  I wonder if that means our per capita earnings are accordingly higher?  Right.  I doubt it.  Anyhow, I’ll be getting a blazing steal of a bargain at $300/week for the two kids.  It’s way under the average, so I shouldn’t complain.

And now for the other item.  My goal.  I need to get to know myself better, get over myself, and fall in love with myself, if any of that makes sense.  Get over myself, because I get wrapped up in the same patterns and thoughts and depressions and cycles, over and over and over again.  It’s getting old.  I’m getting old.  And fall in love with myself, so that I can honor myself and accept myself and be comfortable with myself, and just cut myself some slack.  Walk the talk, so to speak.  Not have ridiculous expectations that can’t be met.  Relax a little, alright, already.  No conditions.  That’s the goal.  Unconditional love.  For my self.  I have no idea how to get there, but there it is.  That’s my goal.

I think that unconditional love will wash away a lot of stress and anxiety.  And guilt.

The things a not-quite-four-year-old says are something, aren’t they?

The other day I mused to BB, “I wonder what you’re going to be when you grow up…”

And his reply?  “A GROWNUP!”  (Duhhhhh, Mommy.  What else would I be?)

After a little further clarification of what I meant, he promptly said, “I’m going to work in dirty jobs where I can get muddy all over.”

~*~*~*~

On election day, he pointed to the TV and asked who that was.  “It’s Barack Obama,” I said, surprised that it even got his attention.

“What’s a rocko bomma?”

He went on to ask about what a president was, but I was soon in over my head.

~*~*~*~

We’re working on the concept of lying.  We’ve got a long way to go.  If I say, “No Lying!” he thinks I’m saying something that makes very little sense about tawny colored beasts with sharp claws that roar.

He’s taken to claiming that “it was a accident” in order to avoid further trouble, but I say “I know it was on purpose, and if you say it was an accident, you’re lying.”  And then he’s off thinking of tawny colored roaring beasts again.  What I need to say is “if you say it’s an accident when it’s not an accident, that is a LIE, and that’s not nice.”  Or something like that.  Lions and tigers and bears, oh my.

~*~*~*~

We still get the discussions about forbidden words.  Out of the blue.  “Mommy, I’m not allowed to say dammit, because it’s a bad word, so I don’t say dammit, just Daddy does sometimes when he’s mad, he can say dammit, because he’s a grown up, but I can’t say dammit, so I don’t say dammit.”

~*~*~*~

Sitting with the baby while I was in the kitchen, “Are you happy I made a cup of me so he wouldn’t cry?”  That one took me a moment to figure out what he was saying.  “Yes, I’m very happy you kept him company so he wouldn’t cry.  Thank you.”

~*~*~*~

Here’s another conversation that we sometimes have.

“Mommy, do you like ___________s (insert wild animal)?”

“Yes.”

“NO!  No, no, no you don’t, because they’re dane-jrus and they will BITE you!”

“Well, you’re right, they ARE dangerous, but I like to see them in a safe place like the zoo, or watch them on TV.  Then I like them very much.”

~*~*~*~

He likes to recount the birth story:

When I was really little, I’d say “Whahhh, whahhhh, whahhhh” and I was little little in your tummy but I got bigg-o and bigg-o and went to the hostibo and the doktor cut your tummy and put staples in and I went “Whahhhh, whahhh, whahhh” and I hurt your boobies and you had to pump.

~*~*~*~

Any time in the past is “last day”…

“Last day, when we were sitting on the couch and I was being not nice and you hurted me and scratched-ded me like this (scratches his hand) and I was in trouble… ”

“That was an ACCIDENT, that I scratched you, even though you WERE acting up at the time.”

“Yes, oh yah, you wight, you wight, it was a accident, it wasn’t on purpose.”

~*~*~*~

Just this morning, while reaching in the pantry for a cereal box, I dropped a plastic canister and caused a loud commotion.

“What the hell are you DOING?”

“Okay, you know those words aren’t for you.  Sometimes Daddy says that, but we don’t say that.  Do you understand?”

“Why does Daddy say that?”

And these are conversations for which I don’t have a good and reasonable answer.  And kids, they’re so sharp, they pick up on everything.  Everything.

I don’t know what happened to my comments with the other theme.  They just vanished.  I’ll need to go see what got corrupted in my theme files, but am too lazy to do that now.  So here’s another theme for the time being.  The comments seem to work.