What We Have Here

I tend to get myself into trouble a lot with my blog posts, not for my rambling run-on sentences and self-important prose, but for the many ways I like to comment on my current status as it relates to other people. People who may have offended me or upset me or angered me, or made me go to the grocery store 10 seconds before their wedding to get them all new flowers to make them a bouquet. People who, uh, read my blog. That's one of the biggest problems with blogging; you have this great venue for venting all your hurt and frustrations, or for celebrating all your achievements, but those same people you want to celebrate with can also be the ones who cause you pain sometimes. You want to write openly and honestly (because hello, what's the point if you can't), but you don't want to unintentionally hurt someone's feelings or scandalize them or spill secrets (soooo hard not to blog a few weeks ago that I was going to Atlanta for a surprise party, just in case!).

That being said...

(now that everyone is like, 'Oh, shit, what the hell is she getting ready to spill? Is it about ME?!' No, don't worry, not this one. This one is about The Donor. Who may or may not read my blog. But most likely doesn't any more, so I spent all that intro time explaining that I simply had to talk about this or freak out, and it doesn't really make any difference.)

Quiet is being quiet. Like, as in, total radio silence. I left him a voicemail before the holidays and another shortly thereafter, and sent him an email last week that came right out and asked, 'Look, dude, am I being ignored?'. The definite lack of response to any of my communication attempts was a pretty clear answer.
Now, as many of you know, the relationship with Quiet has been politely strained for some time. Pretty much since I got pregnant with his magic Jelly-making jelly and he went totally insane and changed his mind about everything. But for Jellybean's sake I continued to try to reach out to him, maintain something of an acquaintanceship. There is going to come a time when she has questions that only he can answer for her, and I really, REALLY want that to be an option for her. I guess I should go ahead and start using past-tense here.
I really wanted her to be able to find comfort and closure speaking to her biological father.

I know it's not going to happen tomorrow, but I'm really starting to freak out a little about screwing her up over the whole thing. I don't want her to feel unloved and abandoned by someone who honestly never wanted to have her in the first place, and only did it as a favor to a friend. Yes, let's tell a five- or six-year old THAT. What's the story now? If we really and truly are cut out of his life forever, tell me how I can answer the question, 'Why can't I talk to my daddy?'. Part 1 of the answer is still, 'Because he's not a daddy; just like some other kids, you don't have one of those, you have a biological father'. But whereas Part 2 use to be, 'You can call him right now if you want', now it's going to have to be 'He doesn't want to be part of our lives'? Am I going to be the bad guy to her, standing between her and her imaginary awesome Dad? Will she see me as denying her that, or lying to her, or hurting her, even if I am doing none of those things? Will it affect her relationships with men, and will she always feel incomplete or, worse yet, like she did something wrong and was unworthy of his love or attention?

This is where it might have been slightly easier to use an unknown donor, because then I could truthfully and honestly answer that I didn't know who it was and that would be the end of it. Simple. Clean. What if she's older, like 15, and asks for his full name and last known whereabouts? What if she finds him, and calls him, and he refuses to speak to her? Is that better, or worse than me not giving her the info at all? What if he does speak to her, but only once, and will not see her or talk to her again? Better, or worse? It's like an eye exam, only much more damaging and without my hotty optometrist in the room to console you and hand you tissues.

As a mother you never want to see your child unhappy. You always want to do everything within your power to make things easier. It's part of the reason my generation got into so much trouble with this whole Helicopter Parenting thing. I guess I have extra-special guilt because I chose to have Jellybean without a partner, so whether or not it makes sense I feel like I failed her in some way from the get-go. I try to do whatever I can, whenever I can, to keep that feeling at bay. I just don't know what to do to make this better.

Somebody, please tell me how to make this better.

One is the Happiest Number

Apparently 18 months is the magic age. Baby is a baby no longer, it’s undeniable. Your toddler now walks and talks and feeds himself and can sit and play or read or watch ‘The Soup’ quietly by himself. You have time to take a breath, and you step back suddenly one day and look at this little person and realize, ‘Holy crap, I hope I did ok because it’s too late now if I didn’t – she’s a person!’. This funny, smart, interesting little creature walking around in your house (or standing in the middle of the kitchen, spinning in circles, screeching) has moods and temperaments, likes and dislikes, and is more and more self-aware, every day. Newborn struggles, the birth experience, even the nausea and sleeplessness of pregnancy grow dimmer and dimmer. 18 months is when you look at your child, and wonder – is this it?

I always wanted to have a big family. I never had career aspirations, or a need to climb a corporate ladder. I don’t like annual review time because I don’t want to grow and develop, or take on more responsibilities or a stronger leadership role on the team. If I have to work, then I want to keep my head down and my nose clean and do the bare minimum, because it’s just not a priority for me. My job is ok, but it’s not my life’s ambition or my heart’s desire, because that is being a mother. Unfortunately, for whatever reason, I find myself still single and at the tail end of my child-bearing years (that hurts even to type, weird). I’m not really sure how I ended up here, but here I am. I’m incredibly, unbelievably lucky to have my one and only Jellybean, but it doesn’t mean I haven’t thought about what it would take or mean to have another.

Happily married women have luxuries that us single gals don’t have. Traditionally, a husband means financial and emotional support, physical comfort, security, stability, and most importantly, magic baby-making key ingredients. When married women thinks about having another baby, their considerations are hugely different; their primary focus is how it would affect existing siblings, what it would mean for the household schedule, whether the budget could support it. The single mother has those concerns as well, but first and foremost is the ‘how’. Where will the magic baby-making ingredients come from? Will the sibling be a full sibling, and does that matter? Is the original donor still willing and able? How do you go about using a bank if the first father is now an ex-husband? Can you afford any necessary fertility treatments, or the payments for the ingredients and all the appointments?

Jellybean’s donor, as most of you know, use to be a really good friend of mine. He kinda cracked up a bit when I got pregnant, and doesn’t exactly return my calls any more. Which makes me sad, but I am so grateful to him that I can’t fault him anything. So, in summary, I can’t get more Jenny-maker where that came from. There’s the first hurdle – a sibling wouldn’t be a full sibling. Does that bother me? No, not really. But going to a bank? That does. The time and cost and hassle and agony of choosing ‘who’, and the shipping and the doctors and the washing and the timing of ‘when’, the same old fears of ‘what if’ magnified by another few years of ‘advanced maternal age’. The thought of going through it all again, still alone, but with Jellybean to take care of as well – I know people do it, but it’s overwhelming to me. I would become a totally different person for Jelly. It’s not like there’s someone else who could give her extra attention, spend some special time with her when I’m exhausted and distracted. As much as I like the idea of siblings and always hated the idea of ‘the only child’, I don’t think a baby is the best thing for either of us.

I will turn 39 in five months (and omg, thank you to everyone for saying I looked, like, 10 years younger!! I heart you all!). My magic date is 40. Yes, there is still a chance for me to meet a special someone and decide to share a life with him, so I won’t say ‘never’.* But if I have to be a mama-of-one instead of a mama-to-many, is there a better kid I could have? I may be a little sad, and have to be a little more careful about not dumping all my expectations on one little person, but who wouldn’t be totally, completely satisfied with a Bean? She doesn’t have a sister to commiserate with, but she doesn’t have a sister who will make her drink perfume out of a play tea set. She doesn’t have a brother to hang out with, but she goes to playdates with friends and has a huge non-related family who love her. She’ll travel more, and college will be paid for, and she’ll always know how wanted and special she is.

My first, my only.

*The internet dating thing is on hold. Ugh, so awful. Stuff blew up at work, and the holidays happened, and I got depressed by all the rednecks in Nascar jackets who wanted to hook up with me. In a few months when I've forgotten how horrible it is I'll try again. Besides, I'm working on my winter hibernation weight, so don't exactly feel like getting gussied up and going out. More like sitting on my couch in a bad acrylic reindeer sweater watching 'Go Diego Go' and eating Sour Cream & Onion chips.

When a Fellow Blogger Gives You a Lemonade Stand, You Make a Blog Post

Yay! I got my second blog award, thanks to my friend Rhaven and fellow TM-er (and also CSM-er). The rules are I need to nominate 10 blogs 'who show great attitude and gratitude'. Awesome. I like those apples. Err, lemons. So let's make some lemonade! The ladies (and lone gentleman) below prove that life is far from perfect, but rock it nonetheless.

• Motherhood is Not For Wimps


• Musings of a Fat Chick


• Baby for 1


• Whitehouse III


• Barefoot Floors (who, admittedly, is my sister N, so go check out my adorable niece and nephew, Fat Nate)


• Sweet Juniper!


• The Next Few Steps


• Surviving Single Motherhood


• My Pathway to Motherhood


• And Baby Makes Two

If you can take a minute to show these folks some internet luv I'd appreciate it. I've been reading some of them for years, through pregnancy and parenting woes and joys, and they're all good people. Except for that Nate, you have to keep an eye on that one.

It's nice to think about lemonade stands and summer, even though I know I'll long for the cold dark nights once I'm lying awake, hot and sticky with the A/C blasting. My mum and I are trading emails this morning, trying to book a cottage for The Great Canadian Summer Adventure 2010 (yes, that means another drive with Jenny. Also, do you realize the trip to Halifax next month will be her 5th flight before she's 2? That's kinda cool). Jellybean and I start swimming lessons this weekend - FUN!! Did I mention that already? Yeah, I'm a little excited. Mostly because I know how happy it will make her.

And did I mention that it dawned on me that 2010 meant I only had one more year til I was 40?

THAT IS JUST CRAZY. I am quite clearly only 27 years old, max. How can I be 40 when that's how old my mum and dad are? The math doesn't even work out. And Jelly can't have a mom that old, that's DECREPIT. Sheesh.

2010 - A Blog Odyssey

Happy 2010! Everyone is so surly this morning, grumpy to be back at work after extended time off. For the first year in ever-since-I-can-remember I actually worked the two weeks of Christmas, taking just Christmas Eve off. It was surprisingly awesome. It was VERY quiet at work, which meant I got lots done (on Farmville), and my boss was out, and all my conference calls were cancelled and I didn't have that sick feeling in the pit of my stomach about a deliverable or anything, not even once! I have to rethink my future December vacation strategy.

Jelly is going through a tough time with all the holiday commotion and tree-taking-downage and inconsistency with daycare attendance. It's been a month now that she's been crying at drop-off, and I finally made myself worried enough to look up 'How To Tell When Someone Has Been Hurting Your Baby' online (which no one, I mean no one, should ever read). I know it's just the age and the separation anxiety and the long weekends and stays at Tata's Winter Day Camp and Bar, but, you know. You can't help the worrying. But Ms.D is very sweet, and kept Jelly a few extra hours on New Year's Eve so that The Ta and I could go out for a very fancy, very rich, very expensive dinner, which was a nice last-minute event. We had a blast at Marbles Kids Museum, and played outside in the cold at the park, and had some friends over, and visited the dogs - a very full weekend. So I feel ok about it being Monday.We've already got a few trips scheduled in the next few months, which is exciting. One involves me ditching Jellybean and getting drunk out of my mind in a nearby locale, and the other involves me flying with Jelly (in her own seat! so exciting! no squirrely toddler in my lap!) to go visit my sister and family in their new house in Halifax, Nova Scotia. In February, which is kinda stupid, but oh well. Need to see the fairy princess niece and Fat Nate before I waste away from longing.

Ha! Waste away. Anyone else bulking up for the cold weather? I'm so pissed, because I had JUST bought two new pairs of smaller-sized jeans, and then BAM! it drops to 20 degrees. I'm shoveling pie, flan, sour cream & onion chips, anything I can get my hands on, into my gaping maw. I'm going to have to get a Snuggie and start wearing it to the Wal-Mart.

Cute Things That Jellybean Has Done Recently:

A little boy was crying at Marbles, and Jenny looked at the toy in her hand, and went over and gave it to him. And patted him gently on the arm. Awwwww!!! The little boy, much like 90% of the population in attendance, was a grumpy little suck who didn't appreciate it at all. But look at my empathetic little daughter! So proud of the toddler, sharing!

Said 'Mine!'. Seriously, I should be more worried, but it was really cute. And it was about her blanky, so she's got a right to feel possessive. It will get less cute as I hear it more, I'm sure.

Blown raspberries on my belly, then giggled hysterically. As did I.

Put her little fat foot up on the dinner table while eating, then immediately widen her eyes and go, 'Ohhhhhhh noooooo!' and put it back down again. Nice self-correction, kid. And I don't appreciate the imitation of me. Ok, yes, I totally do, it was spot-on.

So there you have it, just me and Jelly, plodding along, trying to get back into the (real) work schedule/daycare schedule, hanging out on the weekends trying out fingerpainting and new recipes and new skills.

And new words, too - I sat down and counted this morning since I read that 10-50 words was average for this age. I figure The Bean is at about 30 clear, understandable words, plus a dozen or so more that I can understand depending on the situation or environment or added hand gestures. So that's pretty decent.

I have no New Year's resolutions to share, but I did totally make black-eyed peas for new year's day dinner (the dish, not the musical group), and they were pretty lame. Jenny wouldn't touch 'em. My resolutions are always the same lately anyhow; lose weight, read more, be more patient with Beaner, stop procrastinating. Yeah, good luck with all that.

Here's to the next decade and what it will bring us all.

Toddler Lessons and Defiance

Jenny, much like Rescue Pack, has got my back

For those of you who have up-and-coming toddlers, I figured I’d share some of the day-to-day things that Jellybean and I are doing lately. For those of you who have older toddlers, I would respectfully like to ask for advice on dealing with the ‘I’m a stubborn toddler learning that what I want to do and what my mom wants me to do are sometimes two different things, so I’m going to take my sweet bippy time when she asks me to do something’ phase.

The first thing that Jenny is doing more of is ‘chores’. Also called, ‘helping around the house’, ‘earning her keep’, or ‘making everything take 8 million times as long to accomplish’. The upside to this is that it often distracts her from making a new, high-pitched whining noise that has developed recently; she LOVES to help. Also, she usually claps for herself when she’s done, which is hilarious. And I guess it’s teaching her some valuable skills or life lessons or something, whatever. The downside, as mentioned, is that I’m usually tired and grumpy and just want to get. Stuff. DONE., and having a little helper results in either a few extra steps, a few extra minutes, or a whole lot more patience (or more commonly, all three).

Here’s what she really likes to do, in order of preference;

- Put the little soap tab thingie in the little door in the dishwasher. If you buy the stuff that pours, and you’re going to have a toddler around any time soon, switch now. This is her very favoritest thing in the whole world, and it makes her feel like a total big shot. One caveat – she did eat one or two in the beginning, and I still have to keep an eye on her to make sure she’s not pocketing one as a snack to barf up later. But it’s very cute, she gets it out after carefully selecting the exact perfect one, sets it in a very particular position in its little home, closes the little door, and then closes the big dishwasher door. And then claps for herself while spinning in a circle screaming ‘Yah yah yah!’
- Put wet laundry into the dryer. This is a good one because she use to be a little afraid of the washer and dryer, so it’s nice that they all get along now. I especially like to have her help with her stuff since, hey, might as well get her use to it before she goes off to college. She’s good with any little items, like socks or her shirts or washcloths, and she’s very funny about making sure everything is nicely tucked in there.
- Close doors. Just make sure to remind them to WATCH YOUR FINGERS!!!! Otherwise this isn’t as much fun.
- Get the mail. It’s nice to get outside and get some fresh air, even briefly, and I hoist her up to the mailbox and let her pull it out and drop it all over the ground. Then we go back inside and sort it, and read through the catalogs and talk about stuff. I feel like it helps with language exposure (how else would she learn the word ‘gauchos’?), and it’s a nice quiet bonding activity when she first gets home before I start dinner. I read something that taking a few minutes like this helps avoid the screaming and meltdowns when the food prep starts, and it does seem to work sometimes.
- Clean up toys. I need to be better about this, mostly so that I can help her learn to pick her crap up but also because then I won’t sigh so much when I look at how messy my house is. I bought two huge tubs with rope handles at BJ’s, $7 for both, and toys get pitched in there. It’s easier and way less time-consuming than the prettier and more organized little colored-buckets-shelf thing. She’s also really good about putting away her crayons, but not so much the fridge magnets all over the kitchen floor.

Ok, now the advice time.

Here’s my issue – I don’t want to be a counter. You know what I mean; the person who says, ‘If you don’t blah blah blah (clean up your toys/come put on your shoes/stop putting that candy cane in your nose/get out of the bathtub this freaking second) by the count of three, I’m going to count to three all over again and then still won’t do anything’. Counters make me crazy. Admittedly, there are some people who count who then actually do something, but they are few and far between. I vowed I would never be a counter, but it’s REALLY hard not to do! So there’s Jenny, la la la la la, looking over her shoulder at me and smiling as I sit getting madder by the second with a clean diaper in my outstretched hands waiting for her to meander over to me like a docile little lamb. She sings to herself, and plays with her toys, and wanders around some more, and I simmer. The first time I ask nicely, with a ‘please’. The second time there’s no please. The third time I use her full name and my angry voice, and then I have to go get her. I’m not interested in spanking, so what else is there to do to make this a ‘significant emotional event’ so that she learns she should listen to her mother? My mum says that even asking three times is too much for a toddler, that she should get one chance and then I should give her a little swat on the hand or something. Ugh. Yes, I’m happy that she’s independent and this is an important milestone, yippee. I don’t want her to jump in fear when she hears my voice, and I don’t want her to respond like a trained animal. I just want her to get her pudgy butt moving when I need her to. So what can I do?

It's Beginning to Look a Lot Like OMG WHEN IS CHRISTMAS?!!!!!

Man, has it been forever or what? Blog? Huh? Where?

I’m not going to make any promises about writing more since my product has recently begun barfing all over the place and doesn’t show signs of stopping anytime soon, but I felt like I needed to come and post and share and all that good stuff. I also posted two items I wrote a few weeks ago but never got around to posting because, for some reason, I have been hesitant to post. Why? Who knows what goes through the mind of a crazy woman stressed out beyond belief about work and working herself into a mess over Christmas.

I recently did another drive to Canada, which always gives me a good 20 hours (times two) alone with my thoughts. No, not really alone, since Jelly is in the backseat, but since the invention of the ‘Car DVD Player’, aka ‘OMG BABY CRACK’, I might as well be on my own for that drive. Jelly is such a freaking good traveler. She didn’t even poo in the car at all, waited til we got to the hotel or our destinations. Which was good, because at one horrible point I changed her on the floor in the middle of the dining area in a Wendy’s. With the exception of some seriously bad weather (as in, 'Well, despite the fact we are currently stalled across four lanes of traffic, at least we didn't go over that snowy cliff), the drive was fine.

Jenny was VERY happy to be home but has a new little habit that shows the trip got to her. Now every time she leaves a room she has to say good-bye to each and every thing in it, as though she will never see it ever again. It's a little heart-wrenching, except that it really is EVERY SINGLE THING. Like, 'buh-bah, tee' (for 'good-bye, Christmas tree, I've known you such a short time but I dearly love you and will miss you with every ounce of my being and OMG IT'S MORNING AND YOU'RE STILL HERE THAT IS SO FREAKING AWESOME!!!'). So it's making me a little nutty and I've had to add 10 minutes to the pre-nap and bedtime routine so that the coffee table and front door get the attention they deserve.

We are doing our best to get ready for the impending holiday season (oh, wait, it's here? whaa?), and managed to get lights up and bows on the porch columns and Jellybean picked out a nice tree.

Look at me, I'm walkin' in mah boots, I'm such a busy baby.

I am so far behind on baking and cleaning. My bedroom floor is not so much 'carpeted' as 'strewn with clean and dirty laundry in equal measure'. Isn't that one of the days of Christmas? I am trying to get together last-minute gifts for all my service friends who never get presents any more in this crazy day and age, like the garbage men/recycling guys (Starbucks and homemade cookie baskets), my lawn guy (Wal-Mart gift certificate), mail man (homemade fudge), plus I think I might give a random annonymous gift certificate to one of my nearby neighbors who lives in this tiny little singlewide trailer with two kids. I got a little Christmas bonus this year so am trying to spread it around, since so many people are so much harder up than me. Also, I don't want my good money karma to swing around; it's to the point of ridiculous now. Two months ago I was selling stuff on Craigslist to pay my electric bill, and last week I found $40 that someone left in an ATM (for the record, I called my bank and they said there was nothing they could do about it and I should keep it but thanks for my honesty - I feel bad for that person).

Jellybean met Santa, and decided she preferred him from a distance. Fair enough. I gave up when I realized I was bribing her with candy to sit on a stranger's lap, and that was just not cool. I can't argue with her instincts, he was a little weird (ie, 'stoned').


So we're just plodding along, adjusting to her new daycare provider (which means sobbing twice/daily for Jelly and a super crappy drive twice/daily in traffic for me, who has not had to sit in commuter traffic for like almost 4 years) and doing the bare minimum so we don't end up on 'Hoarders'. Eh, we're (mostly) clean and healthy and happy, what more can we ask for?

Merry Christmas, everyone!!

I'm paying attention to the presentation, I swear

**Please note: This post is a few weeks old

Have you ever had a dream that was really super-realistic, and you woke up and thought, ‘Man, that was a really realistic dream!’, and then a unicorn ran past or you suddenly were swimming in chocolate syrup, and THEN you woke up? That’s how this whole past month has felt like. It’s hard to explain, but I think it has something to do with the fact that I’ve slept in like 15 different places in the past few weeks, and have been constantly packing/unpacking/repacking, and there’s been this super-weird mix of work/personal (parents visiting while I went on a work trip, bookend visit with parents on another work trip, etc.). I just looked around the room (me and 14 guys, where are all these women in the workplace I’ve heard about?) and thought, ‘Where the heck am I? Where’s Jenny?’. It’s very disconcerting. Last night I slept in a swank downtown Toronto hotel, ate dinner out and did some shopping. Tonight I’ll have a roast with my parents and baby, and sleep in the bed I had in high school. Tomorrow I’ll be in a small-town hotel in Pennsylvania, exhausted after a day of driving. Then I’ll be back at home, in my own bed, prepping for a busy work week and Jenny’s first day at a new daycare and trying to find time to get a Christmas tree and decorations up.

I don’t know if it’s just me and my incredible lack of focus, but I find it hard to pay attention to what’s at-hand at times like this. There are so many other things to be thinking about; remember to get the GPS out of the bag in the trunk of my car, which is back at the hotel in the parking garage on level B3. Don’t forget to do Jenny’s laundry and include bathing suits in a small bag for the pool at the hotel when we’re on the way home. And, uh, shave my damn legs this time. Get some of those scrumptious little marshmallow strawberries that for whatever reason are only found in Ontario. Send my edits for the upcoming product release notes, due hours ago, when I have internet access again tonight. Follow up with the Engineering team on what’s been dropped from the release, and what our revised beta plan is. Reschedule my dentist appointment. Make sure I have our passports. Confirm the babysitter for the show Dre and I are attending next week. Get to the bank. Will need groceries as soon as I’m home. Check the tires before I get on the road. Arghhhhhh. I hate that I get ahead of myself sometimes and can’t just be in the moment. Especially since I should really, REALLY be paying attention to this meeting. Which is SO. BORING.

I’m getting lots of grief about not spending Christmas in Canada with my family, and part of me is incredibly disappointed that I won’t get to see my niece and nephew, and hang out with my sisters. But a part of me is still excited that it will be just me and Jenny, and that we’ll get a good night’s sleep, and not have the stress of travel or the chaos of relatives. I feel like I haven’t seen her in forever, and it’s only been four days. The good news is, she’s had a LOT of fun with the grandparents; they got a little bit of snow and built a snowman with her, and put up their tree which made her LOSE HER MIND, and she’s eaten better and slept better there than at home in months. The bad news is, she won’t get to see them again for six months. SIX MONTHS. Well, 5 ½. But still. Thankfully she’s got a great Ta and Aunt Jen and lots of other people who love her in Raleigh. But they’re not Uncle Dancey, whom she’s grown VERY attached to, and who makes her positively howl with laughter.

So the next few weeks will be very work-busy, and Christmas-busy, and I’m already looking forward to some long weekends at the end of the month. And the best thing about this flurry of travel is that I’m wicked excited to settle back into my boring ol’ routine of weeknight Tivo ‘n Snacking and weekend Errands and Lunch With Ta/Playdates with the CSMs. Normalcy – mmmmmmmm.

Oh, and of course Jellybean was A TOTAL ROCKSTAR in the car. That kid is so freaking great.