I feel like everything I write now is so scattered, like I can’t even pour enough of myself into one thing long enough to give you a complete picture of the insane nature that is my current state of being, but that’s the only way I can write. My days are hectic, rigidly scheduled because that’s the ONLY chance I have at maintaining any sort of order or cohesion, and finding even a few minutes to spare seem amazingly hard. But just as necessary.
My days. Oh, my days. My days are full. I don’t know how I ever thought I was busy before a living being was dependent on me. I don’t know how I ever held the back of my hand to my forehead and groaned, “Oh, I am just so busy!” and then went about sipping my latte and pondering just how much longer I could stay in my pajamas. Because? I’VE BEEN TOO BUSY TO WEAR PAJAMAS. And a latte?? Are you kidding me?
I am at the gym at five. AY EM. Five. That is crazy early, and the people that show up that early are crazy. There is one dude who yells. At everyone. From across the room. Dude, I don’t NEED a personal cheerleader, hence my headphones. Sure, they’re not plugged into anything.. SPECIFICALLY SO YOU WILL TAKE A FREAKIN HINT AND QUIT YELLING AT ME. And then there are chatty people on the treadmill. Seriously, I am sucking wind and sweating like a pig and you want to talk to me about the Dow? And the worst.. The Grunter works out in the morning. I don’t know what goes on with The Grunter, but he’s there, every morning at five. He runs on his treadmill, making loud, bowel-moving noises as he .. runs? I don’t know what spawns that noise. I do know that if I have to listen to sounds of that nature, I’d feel entirely more comfortable if it ended with a tiny child being pushed through a nu-nu than I would be knowing it’s from The sweaty Grunter.
I’m back from the gym and in the shower by six. The baby is up by six-thirty. Baby has to eat; I take my pills. Bryan is up. The boys head out the door by 7:30, which is when I get ready. I’m at work by 8:15.
Work. Worthy of five posts in and of itself, but the law of Dooce prohibits me. I will say, though, that I found out a coworker makes a GOOD amount more than I do, and it has severely decreased my give-a-damn level.
Leave work at 5:15. Haul ass to daycare. Pick-up baby. Home by 5:30; snack for baby, feed the dogs. Bryan is home by 5:45. Trade off kid, kiss the husband, off to rehearsal.
Call is at 6:00. We open on Saturday. Pray for sun.
Home by 10:00. Asleep by 11:15. Up at least once with a crying baby.
Alarm goes off at 4:45.
I. am. dying.
***
Old Navy, did you change your sizing again?
Seriously, dude, WHO DO YOU MAKE CLOTHES FOR? I went to Old Navy in April, all excited about spring skirts and sweater shrugs. Size L was a bit snug. Not horrible, but definitely snug.
I go in two weeks ago and the “Item of the Week” is a tank top that’s cute for undershirtie things. (It’s similar to that, but not quite.) The L? WAAAY TOO BIG. I pick up a M, knowing I’ll be making a return because it won’t fit.
And I was kinda right. It’s TOO BIG.
Another shirt was the same issue. Too big. Now, I can fawn over myself and say that, OBVSLY, I’ve lost so much weight that I’m down to a S/M, but that just simply isn’t real. I believe Old Navy is screwing with my head.
Also because they had a $15 skirt/dress sale last week, and had not a damn skirt or dress in the entire store.
***
I believe my child is having hearing issues.
We are trying not to freak out or agonize over something we can’t control, but we are well into 18 months, and we still have no solid words from the baby yet. Nothing. Sometimes, we get general vowel sounds, but who the hell can understand if it’s “dog”, “door”, “go”, or “no”? He knows some signs and is quick to utilize those, but we can’t get any consonants or multisyllabic anything from him. I know every child develops differently and yaddayaddayadda, but I really feel that he’s falling behind in this development. And it frustrates HIM too; he so tries to tell us things and we can’t understand and his hands flail and we don’t know and neither does he and YES, this could be the Terrible Twos, but he’s never been THAT kid. That’s not to say that he won’t make me regret childbirth eventually, but this seems to be more than that.
We go to the pediatrician early July. So I only have another few weeks to come up with all sorts of horrid scenarios.
***
The Boy came to work with me last week. I was dreading it like the plague, not because he’d be there, but because I remember going to my dad’s work and being bored to tears. Of course, that was back before sliced bread, and the whole national movement was still Take Your Daughters to Work Day in an effort to get women in the workforce! and then deprive them of equal pay once they got there. (I kid! Sorta!)
But The Boy? Ate. it. up.
Granted, we did some really cool stuff. Cryo experiments (like dipping minimarshmellows in liquid nitrogen and then eating them), space “spin-off” knowledge (did you know NASA created disposable diapers?), very neat. But we got back to my desk for me to do some real work, and a picture caught his eye from a press release regarding the Chandra telescope. I opened the technical article, thinking that this was just a quick, “Oh, it’s a lot of words, so let’s do something else”, when he ended up sitting there and clicking through FOUR FREAKING ARTICLES. I was bored to tears! But he loved it, reciting all of the details afterwards and asking me questions about what I thought.
We may have a rocket scientist among us.
I have decided t his week I need to find me a doctor who will give me anti-anxiety meds because my schedule looks very similar to yours. And I’m losing my damn mind over it all. (Probably also explains the kinda bitchy entry I wrote today. Hmmm.)
Ugh, yes. You ARE busy! And I seriously commend your effort for getting to the gym so early, that must be hard.
So cliche, but it will calm down.
And that guy making more money would infuriate me. Enough so that I’d go to HR and ask about it.
AndreAnna’s last blog post..Standards
You? Are my freaking HERO. Are you kidding me with that schedule? Courtesy of this entry, I shall now slap myself whenever the word “busy” crosses my mind.
May I please borrow some of the superhuman willpower that gets you into the gym at 5am? And WHO are those other people there with you?
I have only hugs re: the hearing thing. It’s so scary to consider these things, and I hate the pre-fret that happens before doc appts. Saying some prayers for you guys that it’s all nothing and he’s just prematurely teenager-ish and keeping to himself.
I would be doing some serious HR investigation over that guy. SO NOT RIGHT. Your twitter yesterday had me sputtering incoherently. If twitter wasn’t so douchey I would have @’d back to let you know, but twitter IS a douche sometimes and so I didn’t.
Hang in there. Wish we could have margaritas so you could share your secrets!
bessie.viola’s last blog post..four years & counting
Surprise! Boys sometimes take a little bit longer to develop verbal communication skills (I know that comes as a complete shock). After your show closes, google some early childhood speech pathology exercises if you are REALLY sweating it. I recommend a “3rd time’s the charm” rule: Try three times in a five minute period per exercise. If he doesn’t get it, come back to it later. (Do not reward with food. Try to find fun toys that he can use ONLY during this special learning time instead, or opt to follow it up with something fun and special like painting or outside play time. BUBBLES!). But honestly, I wouldn’t be concerned about his verbal communication skills until he’s 2 1/2.
Also, I believe the “terrible two’s” is comprised of two components:
A.) Inability to communicate (I am not being understood, therefore I am frustrated.)
and B.) Children adjusting to change, such as being held accountable for following rules and for the first time receiving a consequence as a direct result of a choice they made. It’s big thinking for little people. Hence the tantrums.
*This is also where a manipulative coercive cycle can REALLY begin (I pitch a fit, and achieve my objective… toy…food….candy…) or (I pitch a fit, and do not achieve my objective… therefore I try harder…).
Also, I am willing to bet that as the fluid in his ears issue is addressed, you will see a massive improvement in his verbal communication skills. Suffice to say, this really is not a *huge* deal, nor is there ANY indication of permanent hearing impairment. And I can almost guarantee you when he hits 3 1/2 – 4, he’ll be talking your ear off, so maybe it’s best to savor this time.