I Sometimes Have Problems Finishing Thi

I love to write, and I love an audience, and this combined with my hatred and avoidance of my job should mean that I would post to my blog hourly. However, life gets in the way. By this I mean I am distracted by my Farmville crops and finding something for lunch that isn’t a boring sammich and reading other people’s blogs. Then I feel all guilty, because I realize how entertained I am by everyone else, and I am not pulling my weight.

I don’t really have too many problems finishing things; I might procrastinate, but I do like to see a project to its close. There are maybe 2-3 projects that I can think of that hang over me (DAMN SCRAPBOOK), like the box of sewing stuff to make a little rag dolly for Jelly and (SCRAPBOOK! I SHAKE MY FIST ANGRILY AT YOU!) cleaning out my closet. That’s not to say I can stay focused and avoid distraction, no siree. That’s how my socks ended up smelling like corned beef. I was cleaning up from dinner and Jellybean spilled a little cup of milk. 3 tablespoons of milk, and she was drenched from head to toe, I had to re-mop the floor, and 17 towels were soaked. So I stopped what I was doing, which was cutting up corned beef to put in the freezer, and ran everything upstairs. I noticed there was clean stuff in the washer, so naturally I threw it all in the dryer. Hence the corned-beef socks. But that’s what you’ve got to do when you’re a busy mom, single or otherwise. You always have to be paying attention to the next thing that needs to be done, otherwise you will be buried. So I do try to get crap done.

That being said, I have a kajillion half-started blog posts at any given moment. Some are scribbled as thoughts on paper, some are neatly typed in MS Word, some are jumbles of funny subject titles and anecdotes in my head. I want to write about the joys of completing my taxes and all the wild fantasies I’ve entertained about what to do with the money I’m getting back, even though I know the reality is I will fritter some away, and use some towards credit card debt, and blow the rest on unnecessary cute clothes for The Bean. I want to write about the challenges of a toddler, and how I feel like I’m doing everything wrong all of a sudden, when I’d been so confident (mostly) up til now. I’ve got excitement to share about an upcoming visit from my youngest sister M, and our trip to Halifax in ONE WEEK. So here, for your enjoyment, are two ‘half posts’. Started with good intentions, like so many things, but leaving something to be desired.

Mine
When you’re considering having a baby, people like to tell you that it will change your life. No duh. You totally know this, even if you’re one of those stupid arrogant spoiled teens on the MTV reality show, ‘Teen Mom’. Not that I would ever watch garbage like that. And can you believe Farrah’s mom totally hit her?! Awesome. Anyhow. Yes, so you know that it will change your life, blah blah blah. You know you’re never going to get the sleep you want again until you’re so old that you can’t. You know that your time will never be your own again, even time you really don’t want to share, like when you would just like five freaking seconds of privacy in the bathroom instead of playing ‘peek-a-boo’ or ‘that’s called a maxi pad, I’ll explain more when you’re older, I should probably stop referring to it as ‘mama’s diaper’ because that’s just going to be very confusing during potty training’. You know that you’ll have to make sacrifices, and someone else will always come first.
However.
As a single lady, one of the things I really didn’t fully understand about this little person coming into my life was just how fully my life would not be my own anymore. You married women, you kinda hafta get use to it; you share a bathroom, hopefully someone else helps you with either making dinner or cleaning up, and there’s always another presence in your bed. Us wild ‘n crazy carefree gals don’t have to worry about things mysteriously disappearing in our homes – we put something down, it stays down (not always a good thing). We stretch out in bed. Our toothbrush is never touched by someone else’s grody cooties.
I will be the first to admit that I like things a certain way. I like things to be in a certain place. Jenny’s closet is organized by item (example; short–sleeved shirts all together, then long-sleeved, then sweaters), then color, then pattern. Except for playclothes, which are hung separately in outfits for ease of dressing when I’m mostly still asleep. I have never put socks on her that don’t match her outfit, even when we’re snowed in at home for 3 days. Some people might call it ‘compulsive’. Those people are totally accurate. Having another person in the house means that things aren’t going to be how you want them again for a long, long time.
[then I was going to write some more stuff about how I'm thinking about rearranging my kitchen to make it more kid-friendly, but how irritating that will be, and how when I leave an area of the house I have to do a total sweep to make sure it's Jenny-friendly]

Things I Failed At Yesterday [day before yesterday]
• Utilizing ‘time out’ successfully
• Keeping my patience
• Providing a healthy, nourishing dinner
• Remembering to never, EVER take a toddler shopping after a long day with a caregiver
• Saying ‘no’ to M&Ms
• Finding the @#$!&% tapir in the car
• Attempting to rationalize with a very, very young person

Things I Succeeded At Yesterday
• Finding the @#$!&% Swiper that was dropped out of the car into the snowbank
• Ending the day on a happy, mama-and-kid-in-the-tub-together note, totally destroying all my walls in the process (who knew water could even splash that high?)
• Buying toilet paper

[was going to write some stuff about how sorry you should all feel for me because my sweet, easy-going happy Jellybean had turned into The Debil; she's in full-on testing mode, and I am still so startled by the obstinacy that I am at a total loss]

Also, yesterday I signed her up for 2-day fall preschool. OMG she's going to love it. We went and toured the church (yes, you heard that correctly), and it's great. The classrooms are terrific, friendly and bright and welcoming (and lots of 'Dora' stuff, I noticed), they have a huge outdoor playground that is enclosed, and the best part is a MASSIVE gym, for rainy-day play. And the teachers are VERY sweet, and highly recommended by Miss D, who use to work there. Plus it's like, a dollar. $125/month. Yay!
Have a great weekend, everyone, and fingers crossed that we don't get snowed in tomorrow again and lose our freaking minds.

My Review of Add-A-Size Garment Extender 10-Pack

Originally submitted at One Step Ahead

S-t-r-e-t-c-h the lifespan of more of baby's one-piece outfits! Unlike others, our garment extender set not only works with Carter's® and Onesies®, but GAP®, Old Navy®, and many other popular brands. You get more, too: includes two each of five different snap styles. Im...

Add-A-Size Garment Extender 10-Pack

Totally worth it

By Jellybean Mama from Raleigh, NC on 2/2/2010

 

5out of 5

Gift: No

Pros: Easy To Put On, Lightweight, Breathable, Soft, Strong Seams

Best Uses: Activewear, Layering, Cold Weather, Travel, Everyday Wear, Sleeptime

Describe Yourself: Parent of Two or More Children, First Time Parent, Parent of Multiples (Twins etc)

I've heard that extenders use to be a lot more expensive that this, and I think you get a lot for the money. You receive multiple sizes, which ensures that you should find something that works with whatever style onesies your child wears. I've used them with Gerber, Old Navy, Gymboree, and Carter's so far. I have a 20-month old who wears 24 mo/2T sizes, so it's tough to find onesies that still fit around a diaper. I've also had a lot of problems with poor fit rubbing her legs. The extenders solved my problems. Soft, washable, and a good size. Great for daytime play or nighttime layering.

(legalese)

Off the Ledge

Man, are you guys ever awesome.

No, seriously.

That was some great advice there, ladies, from each and every one of you (plus The Ta, who called me and said CALM THE HELL DOWN THERE'S NO SUCH THING AS A PERFECT FATHER ANYHOW, and also, 'Give me a warning the next time your post is so serious because I only read it for the Jelly pics and the comedy'. Which is totally fair and totally true. Even if I had a partner, who's to say he wouldn't be a jerk in some way? And no, I don't have to deal with it like NOW, and it's not like Jellybean will need all the answers right away even when she is old enough to start asking questions. And I'll probably screw some stuff up, but I'll do my best, and that's all we can do, just like everything else.

So I guess the answer is to take it one step at a time, be as truthful and heartfelt as I can, and ensure that she knows she's wildly and WIDELY adored throughout the whole thing. Cause that girl has some FANS! And if Quiet doesn't want to be a part of her life, well, that's sad but that's better than some horrible custody situation or an abusive relationship, and I'll just be very matter-of-fact about it like many of you suggested. And who knows, maybe I'll meet someone (hahahahahahahahahahahahahaha) and it won't even be an issue.

And good luck to everyone else going through something similar, or thinking about going through something similar. Especially the thinkers. Don't be discouraged by my occasional mental barfs. The positives of having Jelly in my life far outweigh any concerns or issues (except for the sleep, because really, 5:45 am for the past week?! REALLY?!). Right now we are waiting for ice to melt so that we can get to the caregiver's house, and watching Diego (penguin episode), and she just threw herself to the floor going, 'Honk, honk!' and doing the worm because the penguins were sliding. You just can't buy hilarity like that.

I guess we all have more in common than I thought - the thinkers, the tryers, the single moms, the married moms. We all worry, we all hope for the best but plan for the worst, and we all can understand each other's fears. Even though we may have different situations or be at different places in our lives, we all put ourselves through torment over something like this;

Tapir says hi, too. And no, that's not something coming out of her head, it's my patio umbrella that I definitely should have taken in a zillion years ago. But who's got time for THAT?!

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.