He said it!

I vaguely remember making a bet with Mike about whether Ethan's goingto say "mama" or "dada" first. Everyday, we banter back and forth and it always results in Ethan getting a confound and confused look, wondering how he got stuck with two crazy parents.

"Say mama. Say mah-muh. Say mamamamamamama", I would chant.

"No, Ethan. Say dada! Say dadadadadadadada", Mike would counter.

And it goes on and on like that. I thought.... one day, in a desperate act of self-preservation, Ethan will finally blurt out a badly garbed version just to get us to stop acting like idiots.

And last night, he said it.

He was happily playing in his exersaucer and I had just finished putting away dishes from dinner, when I heard a distinct "mumumumumumum" coming from the other side of the room. My first reaction was to look at Mike, who looked just as dumbfounded as I was (I would imagine), and then looked back at Ethan to see if he'd do it again. Sure enough! He pouted his lips together and said "mumumumumumum". I was as ecstatic as if I hit the lotto jackpot, I was literally jumping up and down (partly to gloat that he chose to say a syllable close to "mom" than close to"dad"). Never mind that he doesn't know the true meaning and application of the word "mom" any more than he knows the square root of 893.

So it technically wasn't his first word. Nonetheless, I'm flying on Cloud 9 knowing that my child has just crossed a brilliant developmental advance. It might not mean much to some, but to me, it means he's learning how to talk! It's a step up from the usual "oooooooooooo" and"aaaaaaaaaaa", and it definitely tells me that he's realizing that he has the ability to make other sounds than cooing and grunting. I knowI'm probably prematurely celebrating, but it just sounded so beautiful coming from this little guy that used to live in me, being fed through an umbilical cord.

Fun in the Bucket.... sort of.....

Lately, photographing Ethan has been a hit or miss. He hadn't been feeling good because he's teething, but this afternoon he seemed to be in a really good mood so of course... mommy dearest puts together her makeshift poor man's studio made of poster boards taped to the wall and desklamps with flood bulbs and had a little fun with the baby.

I actually had planned to have bubbles incorporated in the shots, only to find out that Mike grabbed the bubble maker but not the bubbles :) It was still fun though!

The Checkup

Ethan had his 6 month check up today. Poor thing got a little break and got only 2 shots instead of the regular five. We waited for about an hour before the doctor finally came in. Everything checked out great --- 18.7 lbs and 24 inches long... a staggering 2 lbs heavier from the last visit! The doctor gave his stamp of approval, and then desperately tried to entertain Ethan while waiting and half an hour later, the nurse came in armed with needles. By that time, Ethan had already dozed off... and instead of pissing him off then sticking him.... well, she just stuck him while he was asleep. Ethan woke up yelling, but went right back to sleep about five minutes after. What a trooper.

When You Say Nothing At All

A week ago, we were sitting in a crowded Applebees after Sunday mass waiting for our server to take our lunch order. I couldn't help but notice an old married couple, probably in their 70s, who were sitting directly across from us. The old lady casually looked around while playing with her straw swimming in a cup of what looked like lemonade. Occasionally, she would look in our direction and try to sneak a peak of Ethan, sitting contently in the stroller (he usually behaves well until we get our food). The old man, on the other hand, kept flipping back and forth through the menu, which I figured was his way to pass time since I know they have already ordered. Neither said a word to each other throughout the meal, and neither one seemed to care.

And that got me thinking..... is that how it's going to be for us in 50 years? The old lady reminded me of me, fancying people-watching... not just because it's fun, but because there ought to be something to do inbetween the beginning of the meal and the end of the meal. The old man reminded me of Mike, flipping through the menus... You can tell when he's really bored when he opens up the alcohol menu and starts pointing out the ones he's already had in his lifetime, and the ones he would like to try (he does this a lot).

Am I wrong to want to have a conversation beyond the usual banters of"How was your day?" and "What's for dinner?" ? God, I certainly hope not.

All grown up!

Ethan's sitting up! I mean, he's been sitting up for about 3 weeks now, but he's getting stronger and stronger everyday. It's an incredible milestone to witness Ethan learn how to balance on his own... sometimes, he'd even get cocky (I wonder where he got that from?) and lunge forward to grab a toy that's slightly out of reach and most often plants his face on the floor. But he doesn't seem to mind. Just yesterday, I saw him fall face first reaching for a pacifier, and I was sure he was going to let out a good cry... but he just rolled right over with a beaming smile of instant gratification as he puts the pacifier in his mouth. There's nothing like an "I got it mom!" look that makes me so proud.

He's also coming mightly close to crawling now. I made a note to his daycare "teachers" to make sure he gets a fair amount of tummy time everyday, but at night, we've been doing some exercises to teach him how to crawl and roll over. If you put him on his tummy, he would kick and kick vigorously until he gets tired and gives up. Surprisingly, actually covers some ground doing it. I have to constantly move him back to the end of the mat because I don't want him crawling on the carpet and get some rug burns. *sigh* I know, I can't protect him forever. I sometimes help him by tucking his legs under him to encourage more of a crawling position, but right now I guess he's completely content "scooting". I'd even put toys around him to reach for like his favorite banana guy, and after yelling "Go get it Ethan!" about a thousand times... he'd get frustrated and start fussing, so I just end up giving him the stupid banana guy anyway. Man, am I baby-whipped.

Mike's been encouraging Ethan to stand more too. If you hold out your hands in front of him, Ethan will take the first fingers he could grab and pull himself right up. Lately, he's been letting go of our fingers as soon as he realizes he's standing, thinking he could do it on his own (makes me a little sad that he wants to be independent so soon). "Come to daddy Ethan. Step out and come to daddy..." Mike always says. Ethan just stands there and wiggles and gives us a big ol' smile, with both legs firmly planted on the floor but obviously still lacking some control from his knees. He does love sitting in his Jumperoo though.. it gives him the illusion of standing on his own. Not to mention it gives me a little break to pick up around the house or do the dishes or stick something in the oven. Oh joy!

Can You Hear Me Now?

How do you know when you are living in the middle of butt-fuck-nowhere?

When this annoying verizon guy won't even come to where you are....

Can you hear me now?

Ask anyone under thirty the first thing they think of after hearing that phrase and you'll likely hear back Verizon Wireless. For good or evil, the ads portraying this lonely Verizon Wireless employee asking the person on the other line if the connection is good, are everywhere. He probably can't even program his own contact list, but he could be at the most remote place, and sure enough, the other person on the other line never fail to hear him just fine. James Earl Jones, proves Verizon's campaign synergy ingenius, by topping the cherry at the end of the commercial. He sounds so damn convincing, doesn't he? He sure fooled me.

So Verizon prides itself to be the most reliable network in the nation. It works everywhere else, BUT West Virginia, apparently. Go figure. Why didn't we check the coverage map before terminating our contract with Sprint, you ask? I feel sorry for the customer service lady who had to listen to me bitch today for 45 minutes about how I just dropped my contract from another provider and purchased a new verizon phone for the exact same features that I am now being told I CANNOT USE due to my
geographic location... they can't even guarantee me a signal. How sad is that?

Video and Picture messaging feature? Useless. Web applications? Useless. Bluetooth capability? Useless. Basically, it's paper weight sitting in my purse with potential of acting like a phone ocassionally, depending on the "extended network's" mood that day. The decision of switching to Verizon seemed everything BUT stupid since my family and Mike's family are both on Verizon AND it was logically cheaper, but now
I'm sitting here wishing I had found this out before trekking to the Sprint store yesterday to cancel our contract which we've had since we lived in California. I didn't have a fancy phone... but at least I had signal.

Not "goooooood" Verizon guy.

Last weekend's shoot

A few shots from last weekend...

Coming out of the closet

So today's my day off. Some local elections going on or the other. I had a political phase in college. But my arse got radically reamed for going to an anti-war protest in the morning and then finishing the day at a Support the Troops rally. So it's probably not even the same thing, and I probably have better things to do, like fold the pile of laundry scrambled across our bedroom floor.. but I thought I'd take the time to share a small piece of glee that made me smile yesterday...

Yes!!! Despite my intemperate defiance to drop my double stuf oreos and McDonalds breakfast diet.. I continue to lose weight (probably credited to my recent immunity blowouts). But nonetheless, yesterday while I got ready for blue jeans day at work, I reached for my old jeans just wishful thinking, and what do you know!!! My ass fit in my size 6 jeans again!! Let's rejoice to the heavens of all clothes non-maternity. It probably makes me sound vane, but I don't care. It feels good to be able to reach into my closet again and rummage through pre-Ethan clothes safely tucked away in the back, where it hasn't seen light in almost a year. I was so estatic I even called my size-4 sister to gloat.

Nevermind the persistent flab of extra skin hanging around my gut, I'm afraid to admit that that might actually need a little bit of workout. I'm just rejoicing in the fact that I don't have to settle for my maternity jeans anymore!!!

Driving me crazy

I've always wondered if stupid fucking drivers know that they're stupid. Why else would anyone deliberately slow down for no apparent reason only to piss the rest of us working class by making us late to work for no reason. I don't take solace in the fact that stupid drivers are everywhere. I thought they all resided in California and when we left, I thought I would be retiring from the long commutes and will be getting away from bad drivers. Boy, was I wrong..... West Virginia drivers are just as bad, if not worse. I mean I understand that between the hours of 8-9 am and 5-6 pm, there's bound to be some kind of rush hour traffic just because of the sheer volume of people trying to go to work and back. But I am convinced that the majority of gridlock is because of these stupid fucking drivers who shouldn't have been allowed to operate a motor vehicle in the first place.

So let me give you a refresher test. Answer to the best of your knowledge, or lack thereof.


1) Turn signals are optional. True or False.

They're NOT optional, you fucking idiot. They're there for a reason. You switch on your turn signals according to which lane you want to merge into, check if it's clear, and merge WHEN it's clear. And unless you're driving your dad's 1980 minivan, the damn signals should turn itself off, you don't even have to do that. And notice I said WHEN it's clear? That doesn't mean "barely" missing my car, asshole.

2) I must slow down if there's something remotely interesting on the side of the road. True or False.

Wrong again dim-wit. You're just about the single most annoying thing on the road. Don't slow down because you see the bright flashing lights of a tow truck on the OTHER side of the highway... it doesn't concern you and believe me, it will not make your life any less inane. If you really want to see how bad of a wreck it is, watch the damn news, you'll get a much better view AND you won't be backing up traffic just to satisfy your curiosity.

3) Drivers are permitted to cruise in the passing lane. True or False.

You might think you're not being a jackass because you're driving the posted speed limit and you've got your car on cruise control but then suddenly you come up to someone who's going slower than you because they're only going a mile less than the posted speed limit, so you decide you'd cruise in the passing lane but maintain your law-abiding speed. Newsflash, jackass. Get out of the passing lane. Common human
decency should tell you to move and let people pass you. I think you're the same kind of inconsiderate asshole that don't start writing the check in the grocery store until AFTER the checker rings up all your stuff... like you have to wait for the final amount before you can write the date. Who still uses checks anyway????? But I digress.

4) There's no such thing as following too close. True or False.

If I tap on my brakes and your hood ends up in my trunk, that's because you were following too close dumbass. I shouldn't be able to see what color eyes you have just by looking back on my rear view mirror. And if you really think that riding on my ass will only signal me to go faster, you got another thing coming to you. The only thing it will do to me is piss me off and make me want to drive even slower to tick you off.


If you answered True to any of the following questions... not only should you consider yourself on my shitlist... you should definitely consider changing your driving habits (before you piss someone off into roadrage and blow your head off in the middle of the highway while you play with your ipod) OR perhaps consider taking up public transportation.

Say cheese

Everyone by now knows my son has become my favorite muse to photograph. Thank God he's not camera shy.

But besides taking random photos of Ethan (sometimes even using him for my makeshift poor man's home studio), I've actually started my quest to pursuing my photography business. I already have 2 weddings booked in June, and several Engagement Session along the way. Some are pro-bono, at least until I get my portfolio together, but I don't mind, and clearly, neither do my clients. They get free photos, I use them for my portfolio. It's a win-win situation.

I shot my first Engagement session about a month ago. The bride was so impressed she's hired me for her own wedding AND recommended me a friend of hers who also booked me for her June wedding.

So I was already feeling under the weather on Saturday, but I had previously scheduled an engagement shoot and didn't want to cancel. Besides, the couple is getting married in November and has yet hired a photographer, I didn't want to miss the opportunity of booking another wedding... so I took a nap that afternoon to try to gather up some energy, popped a motrin or two and went to the park, where we said we'd meet.

I have another engagement shoot scheduled for next Saturday... I hope I feel better by then...

It's harder than I thought

I got called out for slacking on my blog, and I must say I am guilty as charged. Actually, it's not that there's hasn't been anything to write about. I just haven't had the time... or the energy... or perhaps it's both. I'm too busy trying to master the super mom status.... which I'm learning the hard way, is a hell of a LOT harder than I thought... especially if your immune system isn't exactly on your side.

So if most of you didn't already know, Mike got hurt playing basketball (again) about 2 weeks ago and tore his ligament on his right ankle in half. He has since then been walking (or hobbling) around in crutches and is scheduled to get a cast put on tomorrow that he has to keep on for 2 months. It's not too uncharacteristic for him to get hurt, I guess. In fact, he's made a legacy out of getting injured, but usually he bounces right back -- though this time might be a little different. Although the orthopedic surgeon wanted to sound as optimistic as he could, he says we'll have to wait until the cast is off to find out if Mike's going to need reconstructive surgery or just "jump" right into physical therapy. To me, it means seeing my husband hobble around for another 2 months, waiting miserably to find out wether he'll need to get under the knife again. Lately he's resorted to playing basketball on the playstation, and watching the playoffs.

Believe me, I don't mind one bit taking care of him. Mostly, he can do everything by himself unless it involves carrying anything that might spill, or carrying Ethan around. But of course, as luck would have it, my strep came back over the weekend (apparently, the doctor says it might not have fully went way the first time around), and not to mention they also diagnosed me with a kidney infection. Supposedly, I'm on "stronger" antibiotics this time... though it's hard to submit to complete bedrest when I have a husband on crutches and a baby to take care of. I'm going to take a couple of days off from work, but unfortunately, I can only muster up enough energy to take Mike to work but I hesitate taking Ethan to daycare (since it's another 30-some miles out of the way). So what's a super mom to do?

Generally, we're surviving. Ethan has mostly been cooperative and has been sleeping through the night again which is when I get all my rest.

Look Ma, No Hands!!!

Meet Elizabeth

Q: How many therapists does it take to change a light bulb?
A: One, but the light bulb has to want to change.

I read in some magazine somewhere that people who often seek out therapists are not in a position to get better in any substantial way because they have no commitment to making any real changes in their life. I completely disagree. Although seeking out professional help made me extremely uncomfortable in the beginning, I knew I needed help. In the beginning though, it felt as if I was admitting failure, or much worse, I was seeking out to subject another human being about my mayhem. I thought I could get by with Mike's insights and using blogging as my own therapy. Although nowadays, having a therapist has probably become a modern accessory.. right next to cell phones and a frequent visitor card from Starbucks. Anyway, at the time I made my fateful decision, I was getting by OK. There were days when I was happy beyond words, some were miserable, and in general, life was just manageable. But in no means did I want to keeping living by those standards... so I met with Elizabeth.

Elizabeth's my new therapist. I ought not to say the word new, it's probably misleading... since I never had one before. I don't know how to describe it, but she makes me at ease like one of those Grandmothers you go to to make you feel better with her chicken soup when the rest of the world falls apart behind you. Like Mrs Doubtfire. She seems like a pretty enlightened woman, with years and years of advice from experience (which I honestly think is far more valuable than just learning theories in college).

I found her through a program in the Army where they provide you with six free sessions with a local therapist.. and I anxiously wondered if I could be "fixed" in 6 sessions. But it was as if Elizabeth knew how to read minds too. She gave me a list of symptoms of somebody who was depressed, and she assured me that she would keep seeing me until all the items were crossed off. I felt a little discouraged. It was a ratherlong list. That's a lot of head-shrinking is all I'm saying.

I should mention, pessimism was part of the list.

A Few Good Things

I've realized that lately, I've been doing a lot of complaining and whining, which (undoubtedly) can make me look like a very unhappy person. And although I have several of those moments, I must contend that I'm not completely miserable. The BIG idea is.. I firmly believe in the philosophy of duality. Basically, it's happiness and unhappiness, tension and relaxation, pleasure and pain. We are unable to appreciate any pleasure unless it's accompanied by a corresponding pain. The problem with me is, I focus too much on the pain and not enough on the pleasure. So in essence of my proposed self-therapy (don't worry, I've got an appointment with a professional tomorrow night), I thought I'd share the things that make me enthusiastic. Obviously, Mike and Ethan make me happy. I could write for days and months and years about how happy they make me.. but I thought I'd share some of the random things that tickle my fancy.

Photography
I love life (as ironic as that sounds), and I love to photograph life. Life comes at us so fast... we now live in the generation of text messages, frapuccinos-to-go, and Tivo, that we almost feel guilty about slowing down to enjoy those moments that really count... we merely know them as the "kodak moments". That day you play "hookie" to escape to Mexico after getting engaged. That first dance as husband and wife. That gumfull of smiles in the nursery. One minute it's there, the next minute it's gone. That's just it. Photos are forever. Now, I've always had the passion for photography, and I take much pleasure in being that "crazy camera lady" who has a camera almost permanently attached to her hand during her life travels. But it's only recently that I've started to ruminate on the value of a tripod and critically consider lighting techniques. I hope to someday be able to make the transition from hobby to an esteemed career (or if I could really get my way, a pleasant balance of both).

Double Stuff Oreos
This is a fairly recent craze, I must say. When I got home from the hospital, I was welcomed by a bag of Double Stuff Oreos sitting on the kitchen counter, and our kitchen has never gone a day without one since then. Forget about all other kinds of cookies, I HAVE to HAVE Oreos... and not just the original kind.. it has to be the Double Stuff kind. Dunk. Lick. Yum.

SUPER Walmart
I might be running the risk of being called a hillbilly, but I do love love love Super Walmart. Going to Walmart has become more than just a chore... it's become another way for Mike and I to spend time together (cheesy but true). We often go to buy a few essentials, and end up just wandering aimlessly through the store, stopping periodically to hold each other, while putting semi-random things in the cart on the way to the baby section. I mean, I'm sentimental to the fact that a business this big would easily drive a mom & pop business off with their comparative pricing, but I'm all for saving $$ and the convenience it offers. Where else could you do your regular grocery shopping, price match for a new set of tires for the car, buy baby essentials, and shop for furniture all under the same roof? And who could compete with Walmart's generous return policy anyway? You don't even have to have your receipt, and they will take the item back no questions asked and even give you cash if the amount isn't to hefty. Hell, you could probably buy almost anything there, use it for a couple of weeks, put it back in the original box and return it for a full refund or store credit!!! (Not that we've done that or anything).... And the best part of it all? It's OPEN 24 hours a day.

MySpace
Okay, so I'm a hillbilly and a geek. But it's become more than just a cultural phenomenon.. it's a lifestyle. Everyday, before I go to sleep, I log in and take pleasure in seeing that I've got New Messages and New Comments and New Friend Requests. Nevermind the increasingly annoying advertisements, I'm not surprised that advertisers are taking note. One powerful draw is that MySpace is chock full of 16- to 34-year-old consumers, one of the most sought-after and elusive demographic segments... in which of course, I fall right inbetween. What I love about it is the flexibility of customizing my page however I want, without the hassle of actually having to pay to maintain my own .com (although I have that too). Not to mention, my ever growing friends list consisting of people whom I've met in almost all phases of my life: distant high school friends, old church choir pals, buddies I've accumulated during my years in the Army... would I have kept in touch with 90% of these people if it weren't for MySpace? Probably not.

Well, that's about all the rejoicing I could do for one day. Must go back to work.

Baby Model

I know I should be getting some rest, but I can't seem to force myself to go to sleep. I've had 2 spoonfulls of chicken soup and I feel like throwing up. My temperature's still a little high, and I'm getting awfully tired of getting in and out of the covers (in because I'm freezing, out because I'm sweating like a pig).

With that said, Ethan's been such a good boy today. Only made a noise close to a fuss when he got hungry, entertained himself on the swing during his quiet time, and actually soothed himself to sleep as soon as I put him down on the bed (he's been sleeping in daddy's spot). It's as if he knows mommy's not feeling too well. He slept most of the day, which made it a lot easier for me to steal quick naps here and there.

But even though I'm sick, and it took a LOT of energy to go downstairs to grab my camera and crawl back upstairs to take this picture.. it was all worth it. The kid's only 9 weeks old, and his picture's probably been taken more than the president's ---(okay, slight exaggeration, but only to make a valid point). The photo ops have obviously been reduced since I went back to work, and that makes me feel guilty sometimes... although I probably ought to start bringing my camera to daycare at lunch so I don't get so behind.

But who could resist that face? At 9 weeks, he's definitely getting cute. He's plumper, and softer, and rounder. His legs have straightened out, his little hands no longer clenched in angry fists, his cheeks bulge defiantly with big sucking muscles. Not that he wasn't cute when he first popped out. In fact, if you watch the video of my delivery, you'd hear the first thing that came out of my mouth when I first held him was "Look, he doesn't have a conehead!" -- which by the way, was ridiculously a HUGE concern for me. I didn't want my son to come out with a pointy head. It makes for very scary hospital pictures.. not to mention, you get stuck with diplomatic remarks like "What a precious baby.. he looks SMART...."

Now Ethan's actually getting baby-food-label cute, all round eyes, chubby cheeks and funny waving hands. He looks us in the eye now instead of somewhere off into middle space, and his smiles make Mike and me pull on the metaphorical hip-waders to go mucking about in baby goo and mush....

Mike: "Look at his face. He's so cute."

Me: "Let me take a picture!"

My exciting night at the ER

Just my luck.

Somehow, I've managed to get infected with strep. Late yesterday afternoon, I started to feel a little worn down accompanied by a really annoying headache. Figuring my immune system is probably just shot from the lack of sleep of the previous nights (Ethan had been cranky since he got his first set of shots Monday), I popped a couple of Tylenol Extra Strength and kept on trucking. I was extremely exhausted by the time I had to pick Ethan up from daycare that I nearly fell asleep in one of their rockers, but decided I would show up anyway (like I said I would) to a dinner event I had been invited to at the catholic church by our house before heading home. I figured it would at least spare me from having to cook dinner or settle for fast food. And by the time Ethan and I got home at 8, I was ready to go to bed.

I woke up shivering an hour and a half later, which baffled me a bit since it's unusual that you would find the fan off and me tucked under the comforter. It felt like forever before I could muster up the energy to get out of bed to put a sweatshirt and some thick socks on. I knew then I must be coming down with something. And when the digital thermometer read 103.7, I was about ready to pass out I could hardly even get the Tylenol bottle out of the medicine cabinet.

Conveniently enough, Mike has been out of town for work and won't be back for another couple of days. It didn't help much talking to my mom and her telling me that this is what I get for moving so far away, although I'm sure her intentions were fair. By midight, Mike had made an executive decision to have one of the guys from his work come and drag me to the emergency room, which was the last thing in my mind... People don't go to emergency rooms because of fever, do they?

I HATE hospitals.

I HATE the emergency room even more.

I've seen people with blood gushing out of a head wound waiting in emergency rooms, yet it's considered "normal" and expected. It confounds me how hospital staff service is always at its worse when you seem to need it the most.... when you're the only one sitting in the waiting room and it takes the girl behind the cheap plexiglass 30 minutes to call your name and take your information down, and then she spends another 30 minutes exasperatingly pressing buttons on her keyboard (which by the way, irritates the shit out me. It's 2006. People who still use DOS programs should be hung and burned at the stake), while inbetween she manages to joke around with the other girl who's apparently not doing very much of anything either.

An hour later, a male nurse finally escorts me to one of the beds, while Tran (Mike's friend who came and took me to the hospital) stayed in the waiting room with Ethan. By that time, I think I might've been hallucinating or just plain exhausted (or a combination of both), but I couldn't stop thinking about the male nurse and Gaylord Focker... and how he looked awfully fruity in those green scrubs.

Anyway, the only thing I probably like about going to the hospital is the feeling of that warm blanket on your skin for the first few minutes... I must've fallen asleep waiting, and I was still a little bit woozy when the doctor finally came in another hour later to stick a swab down my throat. He said my lymph nodes on my neck were swollen, and I've got white pus on my tonsils ( YUCK ) so he suspected it was strep, which the swab test later on confirmed. I've never had it before, but it sure sounded bad. When he said I'm going to feel worse before I get better, and that it'll take at least 36 hours before the penicillin they shot in my butt will even start doing its job and another 4-5 days before my symptoms go away..... I just groaned.

I had been thinking that I sort of miss spending time with Ethan at home, but these conditions weren't exactly what I had in mind. I called the pediatrician first thing this morning though and they said that I should be fine to be around my baby... and that I could even continue breastfeeding so long as I don't have a fever.

I guess it's the perfect way to end possibly one of the worst weeks ever. And my ass still hurts from that shot.

Shit Shit Shit

Ever have those times when you feel like your life has turned to shit, and you’re just waiting for the final flush? I always tell myself that when that happens, I just need to wait just a little longer and it will turn around again. It's amazing how fast your state of mind can go from enjoying the best to expecting the worse...... fraction of a milisecond, really. And in my experience, life has always somehow managed to turn itself around. Someone must be really fond of me up there... Though sometimes (sort of like now), it sure seems like it takes forever.

And where are the people who are supposed to help you go through the shitty episodes of your life when you need them? The truth is, I have been so utterly befuddled I've managed to repel all forms of help. Friends. Even family. Message Boards.

What makes you think a professional will be able to break me down?

Most people have figured out, either by trial and error or through an auspicious accident, their own way to channel their frustrations. And for me, I think that's what blogging has infectiously become. First, it started out as just a little escape from the tedium, but it has gradually evolved to something much more worthy of interest. At least to me anyway.

But I digress.

Where was I ?

Ah, yes. Life can be awfull shitty sometimes, but someone told me once (and oddly enough, it wasn't my mother) that I'm a survivor. So in honor of Gloria Gaynore, I WILL SURVIVE.

And then there were two

So it's just me and Ethan for a couple of days while Mike is in Virginia for some Army business. The timing on these things are never convenient. I've never felt so alone.

In the small picture, it probably just means 4 days worth of either take out, cereal, or TV dinners for me. At least, I'll consistently be getting very little sleep.

Rainy Day

The skies aren't the only ones crying. For the past four days, I've been consumed with irrepressible emotion, it wasn't a surprise that I sobbed at the pediatrician yesterday too. I was sad when Ethan got his shots... there was a piercing look of betrayal in his eyes while I helped the nurse hold his legs down... and afterwards there was a look of disappointment almost that I couldn't make the pain go away. But that's not why I cried.

I cried after the doctor explained to me that at this stage, my own child won't remember who I am if I am to be away from him longer than 3 weeks. It's nature, he said. He's so young that he just isn't able to retain information for very long. Now I don't blame nature, nor do I loathe the doctor for telling me the truth. But a part of me wished that the doctor would tell me that yes, there is a magical bond between a mother and a child that keeps them connected no matter what -- a bond unbreakable by distance... unweakened by time. It breaks my heart that there's a chance that there might be a time in his life that he won't know me.

As adults, we have a cognitive understanding of what's going on, but we still have our primal emotional reactions to separation. When love ones are separated, we can still 'detach' because of the pain of missing. The thought of being away from Mike breaks my heart just as bad. But at least I can endure with the thought that he won't forget who I am.

But I have to be strong right now. And I have faith that God will help me through... just like He always had.

If the Army wanted you to have a family, they would have issued you one

I was contemplating today about the need to update my blog. And I was going to write about how the restructuring of our cubicle farms at work will result in me losing my "bigger than others" cubicle to a more modest shoebox, at best. But that seems all too trivial now.

Yesterday afternoon, after deciding to cut my workday a little short in order to steal some mommy time.. I was introduced to one of the worst feelings I think a human could ever be subjected to.... the feeling of abandonment....

The worst fucking feeling ever.

"I can't be married to a deserter", he said.

I have no notion of being a hero, nor am I fed with intense patriotism. The only thing I miss was the comraderie. But at this point in my military career, (for what it's worth) I feel that I have done my time. Write me up another counseling statement and deluge me threats of involuntary separation.

But I am NOT leaving my child.