It’s ironic, for years I have wanted the security of a strong commitment, someone who would be there for me whenever I needed them. Now, after finding that special someone, I am having major commitment issues.
I have been steadfast and loyal to Weight Watchers for three weeks now and today I felt myself waning. When your weight doesn’t go down or worse it goes up, which is normal in any form of modified diet, that is the true test of your commitment. Will you be strong and resist temptation or will you cave into negative feelings and the taunts of the scale? I always considered myself the loyal type but, today, I learned I’m not. The scale disappointed me and I became a cheater.
Two bowls of ice cream and a chocolate bar later, I have “cheated” on my diet. I threw caution to the wind and didn’t even bother to count my points today. I knew what I was doing was wrong but it felt so right. I knew I’d hate myself in the morning but, in the heat of the moment, I derived so much pleasure, I didn’t care about the consequences. Then, when it was time to eat a real dinner, I was caught in the act. There were definitely no more daily points left for real food and I still needed to fulfill my 8 healthy guidelines. Did I own up to what I did and go to bed hungry? No. I ate some more.
Poor Weight Watchers. So innocent in this whole situation. All it ever did was try to help me. It’s been there for me every time I needed it. It helped me through pre-wedding weight loss to fit into that fairytale gown. It supported me in my desire to lose post wedding newlywed weight gain. After all it has done for me, I let it down. Do you think it will ever trust me again? Do you think it will take me back?
The great thing about Weight Watchers is that it is forgiving. It hears and accepts my excuses time after time. “I’ll go back on my diet after this party.” “I’ll start Weight Watchers again on Monday.” “I’m too tired to measure my food, chop up salad etc…I’ll start -- tomorrow.”
Tomorrow. I always promise Weight Watchers that I’ll change tomorrow. It sadly accepts my promises but it knows me better by now. Weight Watchers and I have this love/hate relationship. When things are going well, I am proud of it, I introduce it to all my friends. However, when things are going bad, I hide it away and deny our relationship even exists.
Weight Watchers, you deserve better then a big old cheater like me but I thank you for sticking by me anyway. Although I sometimes act like “I’m just not that into you”, I really do want to commit to you with all my heart. Be patient with me, I just need one last fling with that scrumptious doughnut I saw in the bakery on my way home from the library today. I hope you understand, you’re awesome, the problem here, it’s not you, its me.
Thursday, May 29, 2008
Wednesday, May 28, 2008
All by myself, don't wanna be all by myself.
I miss my friends.
I miss those college days when your best friends were just a couple doors away. As I got older, and friends got married and moved away, I was still fortunate to have a large enough circle that, there was always at least one good friend that was close enough to grab a slice of pizza with and chat about our day. Stick a fork in it, those days are done.
It’s official now, all my close friends are gone. This past weekend my last, close, local, friend moved away with her husband to the suburbs. I am now all alone.
As a mom, most of the time you barely have enough room in your schedule for your husband, but knowing you have the ability to meet a friend, even in you are never able to take advantage of it, is a comfort. Talking with friends on the phone, is how you have most of your contact with them, so the move doesn’t really make that much of a difference, but, yet it does. In your mind, with them close by, you still feel like that carefree, single college kid who hung out with her friends whenever she felt like it. However, when they leave, you slowly begin to realize, that you are not that single girl in the dorms anymore and that is probably why your mom isn’t totally freaking out that you’re living and {gasp} sleeping with a man.
It’s hitting me hard this week because of the Sex and the City movie coming out – the ultimate chick flick. I used to watch the television show with close friends when we were single and we had an amazing time. None of those good friends live near me anymore. Who am I going to go to the movie with now? Dear husband is hoping and praying that I meet and click with someone new before Saturday night, so he doesn’t have to become my new girlfriend for this movie viewing.
Why can’t my life be a little more like sex and the city? Those girls were so different from each other, in different stages in their lives and yet they always managed to find time to hang out together. Granted, you rarely saw them actually working, cleaning their homes or any other number of mundane daily chores but they made their friendship a top priority. They went clubbing together, out to breakfast or to some art museum and still had time to get married, have a baby and battle breast cancer. Those women achieved a balance in their lives. Bet you that someone, Carrie, Miranda, Samantha or all three would go out with Charlotte to the movies, she wouldn’t have to drag poor Harry, like I have to drag dear husband. The fantasy of TV land is so appealing.
Charlotte uttered a line to the other three girls in an episode of sex and they city that so resonated with me when I was single and dating, that still holds true: "Don't laugh at me, but maybe we can be each other's soul-mates? And then, we could let men be just these great, nice guys to have fun with."
I love my husband, he is my best friend, but my girls, my close knit group of friends, are my soul-mates. Only another girl can understand menstrual cramps and labor pains. Only another girl understands how depressing it is to gain five pounds and how much more depressing it is to try to lose 10 pounds when eating about that 5 pound weight gain caused it to double. There are no real replacements for Carrie, Miranda, Charlotte or Samantha in each other’s lives. They can meet other people who they can hang out with but they will never be their soul mates. My close friends, and you know who you are, there is no replacing you.
Don’t laugh at me guys but, when I do finally see the movie with dear husband, I’ll be seeing it with him, but I’ll be pretending I am seeing it with you.
I miss those college days when your best friends were just a couple doors away. As I got older, and friends got married and moved away, I was still fortunate to have a large enough circle that, there was always at least one good friend that was close enough to grab a slice of pizza with and chat about our day. Stick a fork in it, those days are done.
It’s official now, all my close friends are gone. This past weekend my last, close, local, friend moved away with her husband to the suburbs. I am now all alone.
As a mom, most of the time you barely have enough room in your schedule for your husband, but knowing you have the ability to meet a friend, even in you are never able to take advantage of it, is a comfort. Talking with friends on the phone, is how you have most of your contact with them, so the move doesn’t really make that much of a difference, but, yet it does. In your mind, with them close by, you still feel like that carefree, single college kid who hung out with her friends whenever she felt like it. However, when they leave, you slowly begin to realize, that you are not that single girl in the dorms anymore and that is probably why your mom isn’t totally freaking out that you’re living and {gasp} sleeping with a man.
It’s hitting me hard this week because of the Sex and the City movie coming out – the ultimate chick flick. I used to watch the television show with close friends when we were single and we had an amazing time. None of those good friends live near me anymore. Who am I going to go to the movie with now? Dear husband is hoping and praying that I meet and click with someone new before Saturday night, so he doesn’t have to become my new girlfriend for this movie viewing.
Why can’t my life be a little more like sex and the city? Those girls were so different from each other, in different stages in their lives and yet they always managed to find time to hang out together. Granted, you rarely saw them actually working, cleaning their homes or any other number of mundane daily chores but they made their friendship a top priority. They went clubbing together, out to breakfast or to some art museum and still had time to get married, have a baby and battle breast cancer. Those women achieved a balance in their lives. Bet you that someone, Carrie, Miranda, Samantha or all three would go out with Charlotte to the movies, she wouldn’t have to drag poor Harry, like I have to drag dear husband. The fantasy of TV land is so appealing.
Charlotte uttered a line to the other three girls in an episode of sex and they city that so resonated with me when I was single and dating, that still holds true: "Don't laugh at me, but maybe we can be each other's soul-mates? And then, we could let men be just these great, nice guys to have fun with."
I love my husband, he is my best friend, but my girls, my close knit group of friends, are my soul-mates. Only another girl can understand menstrual cramps and labor pains. Only another girl understands how depressing it is to gain five pounds and how much more depressing it is to try to lose 10 pounds when eating about that 5 pound weight gain caused it to double. There are no real replacements for Carrie, Miranda, Charlotte or Samantha in each other’s lives. They can meet other people who they can hang out with but they will never be their soul mates. My close friends, and you know who you are, there is no replacing you.
Don’t laugh at me guys but, when I do finally see the movie with dear husband, I’ll be seeing it with him, but I’ll be pretending I am seeing it with you.
Tuesday, May 27, 2008
It's 80 degrees outside and I am wearing a jacket
You're all screaming "Why?" I am too. I went to move the car (again, alternate side of the street parking rules REALLY suck) and threw on my black jacket even though I knew it was hot outside. I have this weird need to wear a jacket ALL the time when I am outside my home. Somehow, I feel that by wearing the jacket I look better, less fat somehow. I don't even think about the fact that, without the jacket, rarely anyone would give me a second look. However, with the jacket everyone looks and thinks "Why is that freak wearing a jacket when it is 80 degrees outside?"
The earliest recollection I have of this weird behavior is in the 7th grade. Puberty was in full bloom and, let's just say, I blossomed early in the “boobage” department. Having cleavage that a college student would use to her every advantage, was not as appealing to a shy, slightly overweight, junior high student. I remember being teased mercilessly by classmates and that's when the jacket made its first appearance. I recall that the first jacket I wore was my dad's black members only jacket. I wore it ALL the time. On the heat stifled bus, in the steaming classroom, even when teachers asked if I was warm, I insisted I was cold and needed it.
For years I wore that jacket as a suit of armor. Perhaps, on a deeper level, I thought the jacket offered me some protection. I thought it could protect me from the harsh stares of disapproval, the cruel taunting remarks about my weight. Although it didn't do that, maybe the jacket was my security blanket. Even though it didn't make any sense to do it, wearing that jacket made me feel more emotionally comfortable despite the physical discomfort.
When I lost weight, the jacket disappeared. I only wore jackets when I was really cold. Form fitting tops, accentuating the “bounty that the lord bestowed upon me”, became the norm in my wardrobe. However, when I became pregnant with Joshua and the weight started creeping up, the jacket reared its ugly head again. Think I am crazy today for wearing a jacket? I was certifiable for wearing a jacket in the summer when I was 7 months pregnant! Are you sweating just thinking about it? Now that summer is right around the corner again, I am sorry to say the jacket is still the first thing I grab on my way out the door.
My dear husband thinks I am being silly, he constantly tells me to take the jacket off and not in a sexy way. He pointed out that if I continue to feel this way about myself, so will others, including him. I know he’s right but I can’t seem to stop. Without the jacket I feel naked, vulnerable and I can’t seem to let it go. Sometimes, I think resolving this issue would make a therapist a bundle, definitely enough to pay for a second summer home. Until I am brave enough to tackle these demons, I’ll just try and walk it off by taking a stroll around the block to clear my head. I just need to grab my jacket on the way out.
***Since I missed Monday's post you get two today -- Twofer Tuesday!
The earliest recollection I have of this weird behavior is in the 7th grade. Puberty was in full bloom and, let's just say, I blossomed early in the “boobage” department. Having cleavage that a college student would use to her every advantage, was not as appealing to a shy, slightly overweight, junior high student. I remember being teased mercilessly by classmates and that's when the jacket made its first appearance. I recall that the first jacket I wore was my dad's black members only jacket. I wore it ALL the time. On the heat stifled bus, in the steaming classroom, even when teachers asked if I was warm, I insisted I was cold and needed it.
For years I wore that jacket as a suit of armor. Perhaps, on a deeper level, I thought the jacket offered me some protection. I thought it could protect me from the harsh stares of disapproval, the cruel taunting remarks about my weight. Although it didn't do that, maybe the jacket was my security blanket. Even though it didn't make any sense to do it, wearing that jacket made me feel more emotionally comfortable despite the physical discomfort.
When I lost weight, the jacket disappeared. I only wore jackets when I was really cold. Form fitting tops, accentuating the “bounty that the lord bestowed upon me”, became the norm in my wardrobe. However, when I became pregnant with Joshua and the weight started creeping up, the jacket reared its ugly head again. Think I am crazy today for wearing a jacket? I was certifiable for wearing a jacket in the summer when I was 7 months pregnant! Are you sweating just thinking about it? Now that summer is right around the corner again, I am sorry to say the jacket is still the first thing I grab on my way out the door.
My dear husband thinks I am being silly, he constantly tells me to take the jacket off and not in a sexy way. He pointed out that if I continue to feel this way about myself, so will others, including him. I know he’s right but I can’t seem to stop. Without the jacket I feel naked, vulnerable and I can’t seem to let it go. Sometimes, I think resolving this issue would make a therapist a bundle, definitely enough to pay for a second summer home. Until I am brave enough to tackle these demons, I’ll just try and walk it off by taking a stroll around the block to clear my head. I just need to grab my jacket on the way out.
***Since I missed Monday's post you get two today -- Twofer Tuesday!
Save me 100 calorie packs! You are the only ones who can.
Long weekends, LOVE them! However, they come at a price. People usually take advantage of the extra day to throw parties, barbeques, family gatherings, basically, any excuse to thrust massive quantities of food on you.
Pre WW (Weight Watchers) these long weekends were a food fest for me. Just one more hot dog, just one more slice of cake, just one more bite of lasagna, I ate until I felt like I would explode. This was my first long weekend post-WW again and boy how things have changed. I am amazed at how little healthy food is served at these festivities. A couple of slice of melon, some cucumbers and tomatoes and then I have exhausted my options.
However, having been down this road before, I was well aware of these obstacles that people unintentionally put you through. I came equipped to yesterday’s party with my healthy eating utility pack. There was my fiber one baggie, to get that full feeling plus it helped with my daily fiber requirements. My hard boiled egg whites were there for my protein kick and went nicely with the cucumbers and tomatoes. Finally, there are the ingenious 100 calorie snacks/packs, so I didn’t miss out on dessert when everyone else was wolfing down that cake.
I’ll be honest, chomping away at fiber one while others are voraciously attacking fresh French bread is not as satisfying in the moment, but I try to look at the bigger picture. A lot of people on the WW message boards utter the mantra “Nothing tastes as good as being thin feels” and I wholeheartedly agree. There are times I prefer to have something taste good but WW allows you to do that and still be on track. If I sound like a WW groupie it is because I am. I have found no other way to eat that works for me but this one. What I LOVE about WW is that I can still have my normal foods if I want them but in moderation.
On Atkins, I suffered the smells of ketosis, on the grapefruit diet I just suffered. On WW I have had mini cupcakes, cookies, pizza, stuffed shells, ice cream and I have still lost weight. Broccoli tastes a whole lot better when it is followed by a yummy dessert -- with WW that is possible. So I say, let them eat cake, I will too and I’ll get skinnier every day I do it!
Pre WW (Weight Watchers) these long weekends were a food fest for me. Just one more hot dog, just one more slice of cake, just one more bite of lasagna, I ate until I felt like I would explode. This was my first long weekend post-WW again and boy how things have changed. I am amazed at how little healthy food is served at these festivities. A couple of slice of melon, some cucumbers and tomatoes and then I have exhausted my options.
However, having been down this road before, I was well aware of these obstacles that people unintentionally put you through. I came equipped to yesterday’s party with my healthy eating utility pack. There was my fiber one baggie, to get that full feeling plus it helped with my daily fiber requirements. My hard boiled egg whites were there for my protein kick and went nicely with the cucumbers and tomatoes. Finally, there are the ingenious 100 calorie snacks/packs, so I didn’t miss out on dessert when everyone else was wolfing down that cake.
I’ll be honest, chomping away at fiber one while others are voraciously attacking fresh French bread is not as satisfying in the moment, but I try to look at the bigger picture. A lot of people on the WW message boards utter the mantra “Nothing tastes as good as being thin feels” and I wholeheartedly agree. There are times I prefer to have something taste good but WW allows you to do that and still be on track. If I sound like a WW groupie it is because I am. I have found no other way to eat that works for me but this one. What I LOVE about WW is that I can still have my normal foods if I want them but in moderation.
On Atkins, I suffered the smells of ketosis, on the grapefruit diet I just suffered. On WW I have had mini cupcakes, cookies, pizza, stuffed shells, ice cream and I have still lost weight. Broccoli tastes a whole lot better when it is followed by a yummy dessert -- with WW that is possible. So I say, let them eat cake, I will too and I’ll get skinnier every day I do it!
Friday, May 23, 2008
Long hot showers vs showering Josh with kisses
You know what I love best about finally finding a great babysitter to watch Josh while I work at home? I am more relaxed because I finally have some free time again. For a couple of hours a day I am not a mommy, not a wife, I am free to just be me.
Our new nanny is wonderful. She not only takes care of all of Josh’s needs but she also helps out around the house. A lot of the typical housework I should be doing, she does. Therefore, when Josh goes to bed at night, I now actually have some free time to read a magazine or watch some TV. It makes me wonder if being a stay at home mom is what I want to do or what I feel I have to do.
I love my son and I enjoy spending time with him. That kid has got a killer smile that makes me warm and gooey inside and when he laughs, it takes my breath away. With this new nanny, I am more relaxed, less tense then I have been in a long while. A sense of balance has returned to our home. The petty arguments I had with dear husband, they still happen but, not as frequently as they did before. So I ask myself, is my working better for me and ultimately better for my family?
I am not saying I want to stay in the job I currently hold forever. When we finally move to the suburbs, commuting to this job would mean I would only see Josh on the weekends but, if I could find something part time or local to where we live and have a babysitter too, would that be better for us then my staying home all the time?
Obviously, the financial rewards are a strong motivator for continuing to work but what about the emotional benefits? At the end of my work day, I am eager to be with Josh. I shower him with kisses and play with him until it is time for him go to bed. Then, I still have time for myself too. When I was alone with Josh all day, I often got overwhelmed and frustrated. There were days I didn’t even get to shower! We still had fun together but there were times that I just didn’t have the energy to do what he wanted and I secretly prayed that he’d just take a nap. Was that just part of the new “mommyhood” learning curve or am I just not cut out for being a stay at home mom?
So what’s the answer? Am I a better mom to Josh if I work and spend less time with him, but during that time I am generally in a relaxed and good mood? Is quitting my job the better option? If I did that, I would be spending more time with him where I could be in a good mood but I could also be tense and irritable. However, if I’m at home, I get to watch him grow and not miss out on any of those milestones I have looked forward to for many years when I thought about having kids. If I did that, the house would probably be mess again but would I too?
Is there a way I can balance both? Can I get my long hot showers but also get the chance to shower Josh with kisses any time I want?
I always thought my nature was to be a stay at home mom at all costs. Am I really a horrible, selfish mom for even considering choosing to continue to work over staying home full time with Josh or is that just the guilt talking?
Our new nanny is wonderful. She not only takes care of all of Josh’s needs but she also helps out around the house. A lot of the typical housework I should be doing, she does. Therefore, when Josh goes to bed at night, I now actually have some free time to read a magazine or watch some TV. It makes me wonder if being a stay at home mom is what I want to do or what I feel I have to do.
I love my son and I enjoy spending time with him. That kid has got a killer smile that makes me warm and gooey inside and when he laughs, it takes my breath away. With this new nanny, I am more relaxed, less tense then I have been in a long while. A sense of balance has returned to our home. The petty arguments I had with dear husband, they still happen but, not as frequently as they did before. So I ask myself, is my working better for me and ultimately better for my family?
I am not saying I want to stay in the job I currently hold forever. When we finally move to the suburbs, commuting to this job would mean I would only see Josh on the weekends but, if I could find something part time or local to where we live and have a babysitter too, would that be better for us then my staying home all the time?
Obviously, the financial rewards are a strong motivator for continuing to work but what about the emotional benefits? At the end of my work day, I am eager to be with Josh. I shower him with kisses and play with him until it is time for him go to bed. Then, I still have time for myself too. When I was alone with Josh all day, I often got overwhelmed and frustrated. There were days I didn’t even get to shower! We still had fun together but there were times that I just didn’t have the energy to do what he wanted and I secretly prayed that he’d just take a nap. Was that just part of the new “mommyhood” learning curve or am I just not cut out for being a stay at home mom?
So what’s the answer? Am I a better mom to Josh if I work and spend less time with him, but during that time I am generally in a relaxed and good mood? Is quitting my job the better option? If I did that, I would be spending more time with him where I could be in a good mood but I could also be tense and irritable. However, if I’m at home, I get to watch him grow and not miss out on any of those milestones I have looked forward to for many years when I thought about having kids. If I did that, the house would probably be mess again but would I too?
Is there a way I can balance both? Can I get my long hot showers but also get the chance to shower Josh with kisses any time I want?
I always thought my nature was to be a stay at home mom at all costs. Am I really a horrible, selfish mom for even considering choosing to continue to work over staying home full time with Josh or is that just the guilt talking?
Thursday, May 22, 2008
It’s a miracle!
The other night, on the How I Met your Mother season finale, the character of Marshall shouted “Miracle!” every time something awesome resulted out of what appeared to be a bad event in the beginning. I shout “Miracle!” today.
Something is in the air. Miraculous things are happening this week. The Dancing with the Stars winner was finally a woman again, the right David won American Idol and my credit card company has already removed the charge for the luxury tour in New Zealand that I ranted about yesterday. Will wonders never cease? Miracle!
When a credit card company acts this quickly to correct an error, I am in complete awe and shock. I have so gotten used to incompetence with service providers that, when normal customer service actually takes place, I am completely floored. It gives me hope that the impossible is possible (like that the charge for the playground in Maryland will soon be removed too).
This morning, I spoke with a school I went to, 13 years ago, because I heard they offered lifetime career placement. When I called to take them up on this offer, they told me that a lot had changed in the past 13 years, in the field I studied, and I would have to take the classes again in order for them to help me. Dejectedly, I asked how much that was going to cost me. “Don’t you just understand what lifetime career placement means?” They said. “You wouldn’t have to pay for the classes, they are free to you if you are a paid alumnus. The next time we offer these classes is in November, so give us a call back around then.” I get to be retrained, in a field I loved, at no cost and then they’ll try and help me with job placement? Miracle!!!
I went to move our car (alternate side of the street rules suck!) at lunch and I sat there for a half hour. Bored senseless, I started reading a magazine I had left there, the last time I moved the car. When I went to pick up the magazine, a dollar dropped out of the pages. Miracle! (OK, stretching it on that one, but there is nothing like finding money you didn’t even know you had.)
So, since there has been some sort of shift in the cosmos where it is now “putting things right that once went wrong.” (Bonus points if you know what show I am ripping off with that line.) I think it is the perfect day to invest that dollar and buy a lottery ticket. If my luck holds out today, hopefully, all my previous losses will be righted into a big win. Then, I’ll be shouting “Miracle!”, over a whole lot more than a dollar.
Something is in the air. Miraculous things are happening this week. The Dancing with the Stars winner was finally a woman again, the right David won American Idol and my credit card company has already removed the charge for the luxury tour in New Zealand that I ranted about yesterday. Will wonders never cease? Miracle!
When a credit card company acts this quickly to correct an error, I am in complete awe and shock. I have so gotten used to incompetence with service providers that, when normal customer service actually takes place, I am completely floored. It gives me hope that the impossible is possible (like that the charge for the playground in Maryland will soon be removed too).
This morning, I spoke with a school I went to, 13 years ago, because I heard they offered lifetime career placement. When I called to take them up on this offer, they told me that a lot had changed in the past 13 years, in the field I studied, and I would have to take the classes again in order for them to help me. Dejectedly, I asked how much that was going to cost me. “Don’t you just understand what lifetime career placement means?” They said. “You wouldn’t have to pay for the classes, they are free to you if you are a paid alumnus. The next time we offer these classes is in November, so give us a call back around then.” I get to be retrained, in a field I loved, at no cost and then they’ll try and help me with job placement? Miracle!!!
I went to move our car (alternate side of the street rules suck!) at lunch and I sat there for a half hour. Bored senseless, I started reading a magazine I had left there, the last time I moved the car. When I went to pick up the magazine, a dollar dropped out of the pages. Miracle! (OK, stretching it on that one, but there is nothing like finding money you didn’t even know you had.)
So, since there has been some sort of shift in the cosmos where it is now “putting things right that once went wrong.” (Bonus points if you know what show I am ripping off with that line.) I think it is the perfect day to invest that dollar and buy a lottery ticket. If my luck holds out today, hopefully, all my previous losses will be righted into a big win. Then, I’ll be shouting “Miracle!”, over a whole lot more than a dollar.
Wednesday, May 21, 2008
I’m the real Monica Gellar but the fake Monica is on a playground in New Zealand
I feel violated and I am angry about it. Last night, I discovered I was the victim of credit card fraud. Someone stole my credit card number and charged almost $3,000 in New Zealand for a luxury tour and over $3,000 on playground materials in Maryland. Someone is having a lot more fun with my credit card then I am. Reminds me of that episode of Friends where someone steals Monica’s credit card and does much more exciting things with it then Monica has ever done. Just call me Monica.
What amazes me is how lax the credit card company was in this situation. When I charged $700 in one store when I was getting married, they didn’t allow the purchase to go through until I called to confirm that I authorized the charge. Yet, somehow, a $3000 luxury tour in some foreign country didn’t set off any alarms? Apparently, the credit card company thought I went on some adventurous streak all of a sudden and felt no need to check up on me during my mid-life crisis. It also makes complete sense that while I was charging a luxury tour in New Zealand, I was also in Long Island at Target buying paper towels. Good work there, fraud department, you guys are really on top of your game.
As for the playground in Maryland, that charge has been approved but not posted. Therefore, I can’t dispute it, yet. It would make sense to block that purchase, but that would be expecting too much from my credit card company. No, I have to wait for the charge to post and ONLY THEN can I dispute it. So, despite the fact that I have alerted them of this fraud, they are still planning on paying it and then I have to argue to have it removed. Again, that fraud department is really working hard.
The fact that both these purchases were both out of the ordinary for my spending history in both the dollar amount and location makes me wonder. What would set of bells for the credit card company? If I tried to buy a skirt in size 2 would they call me and say, “Who are you kidding? Monica hasn’t been a size 2 EVER, you must be a fraud.” If I bought 3 pounds of asparagus, would they call and say “Fraud! You can’t be our customer, she HATES asaparagus.” If I charged a camping weekend in the woods would they cry out “No way can you be the correct credit card holder, this woman’s idea of roughing it is air drying her hair, she’d never go camping.”
All these years I have been with this same credit card company, you’d think they’d know me and my spending habits by now. In the 6 months that Joshua has been alive the only charges to my credit card have been from grocery stores and baby stores. Perhaps they thought I had some post-partum fit where I flew off to New Zealand, abandoning my husband and child, and then felt so guilty about it I bought Josh a playground? Sure, that makes sense.
After spending 3 hours on the phone with the credit card company last night, the first call, of which I am sure there will be many more for months to come, dear husband told me to look at the bright side. He told me this would be great fodder for my blog. Many months of aggravation, feeling that using a credit card is no longer safe for me, screwing up on Weight Watchers yesterday due to anxiety eating – yeah, so worth a blog honey. I am so tense right now what I really need is a nice relaxing massage. Perhaps I’ll hop a plane to Sweden, for an authentic Swedish massage. Of course, THAT would set off alarms with my credit card company. “Monica, letting someone see her naked? Never! Fraud!”
What amazes me is how lax the credit card company was in this situation. When I charged $700 in one store when I was getting married, they didn’t allow the purchase to go through until I called to confirm that I authorized the charge. Yet, somehow, a $3000 luxury tour in some foreign country didn’t set off any alarms? Apparently, the credit card company thought I went on some adventurous streak all of a sudden and felt no need to check up on me during my mid-life crisis. It also makes complete sense that while I was charging a luxury tour in New Zealand, I was also in Long Island at Target buying paper towels. Good work there, fraud department, you guys are really on top of your game.
As for the playground in Maryland, that charge has been approved but not posted. Therefore, I can’t dispute it, yet. It would make sense to block that purchase, but that would be expecting too much from my credit card company. No, I have to wait for the charge to post and ONLY THEN can I dispute it. So, despite the fact that I have alerted them of this fraud, they are still planning on paying it and then I have to argue to have it removed. Again, that fraud department is really working hard.
The fact that both these purchases were both out of the ordinary for my spending history in both the dollar amount and location makes me wonder. What would set of bells for the credit card company? If I tried to buy a skirt in size 2 would they call me and say, “Who are you kidding? Monica hasn’t been a size 2 EVER, you must be a fraud.” If I bought 3 pounds of asparagus, would they call and say “Fraud! You can’t be our customer, she HATES asaparagus.” If I charged a camping weekend in the woods would they cry out “No way can you be the correct credit card holder, this woman’s idea of roughing it is air drying her hair, she’d never go camping.”
All these years I have been with this same credit card company, you’d think they’d know me and my spending habits by now. In the 6 months that Joshua has been alive the only charges to my credit card have been from grocery stores and baby stores. Perhaps they thought I had some post-partum fit where I flew off to New Zealand, abandoning my husband and child, and then felt so guilty about it I bought Josh a playground? Sure, that makes sense.
After spending 3 hours on the phone with the credit card company last night, the first call, of which I am sure there will be many more for months to come, dear husband told me to look at the bright side. He told me this would be great fodder for my blog. Many months of aggravation, feeling that using a credit card is no longer safe for me, screwing up on Weight Watchers yesterday due to anxiety eating – yeah, so worth a blog honey. I am so tense right now what I really need is a nice relaxing massage. Perhaps I’ll hop a plane to Sweden, for an authentic Swedish massage. Of course, THAT would set off alarms with my credit card company. “Monica, letting someone see her naked? Never! Fraud!”
Tuesday, May 20, 2008
Fear
I’m a big old chicken. I screech with fear at the sight of a bug. I clutch my car door for dear life whenever I am in a vehicle with a man at the wheel (especially my husband). I use that imaginary brake so much, I’ve worn it down, along with my husband’s patience. I find it hard to sleep at night when my husband is away on a business trip, as every noise makes me jumpy. I am scared to try, terrified to fail.
It is the last fear that stands in my way the most. There are so many things I don’t do in life because I am afraid. New food? I’m worried it may taste icky, so I don’t eat it. New hobby? I probably won’t be able to do it well and it is too hard to do so why even try? Try to become a paid writer? There are so many who fail at it, why would I succeed? Who wants to deal with all that rejection anyway?
I look at Joshua and he knows no fear. That boy leaps out of my hands, not understanding the danger of falling. He lands head first, when reaching for a toy, and hits his head which causes him to howl in pain. Yet, moments later he forgets about bumping his head when another toy catches his eye. I am in awe of my son. He is braver then I am.
My husband keeps reminding me that it’s not just about our own interests anymore. Our son is looking to us to be examples. If we show fear, he will show fear. If we don’t try, neither will he. I am determined to set a good example, so I am working on those things that I don’t like about myself.
The only failure I need to fear now, is failing to try. To quote Ms. Patti Labelle “I got a new attitude.” Negative thoughts – be gone! Blueberries beware, I am coming to taste you. Bike riding – I’ll master you yet. Publishers, meet your worst nightmare – a determined writer. Bugs, well, ok, I am still going to scream when I see you. Can’t change everything overnight.
It is the last fear that stands in my way the most. There are so many things I don’t do in life because I am afraid. New food? I’m worried it may taste icky, so I don’t eat it. New hobby? I probably won’t be able to do it well and it is too hard to do so why even try? Try to become a paid writer? There are so many who fail at it, why would I succeed? Who wants to deal with all that rejection anyway?
I look at Joshua and he knows no fear. That boy leaps out of my hands, not understanding the danger of falling. He lands head first, when reaching for a toy, and hits his head which causes him to howl in pain. Yet, moments later he forgets about bumping his head when another toy catches his eye. I am in awe of my son. He is braver then I am.
My husband keeps reminding me that it’s not just about our own interests anymore. Our son is looking to us to be examples. If we show fear, he will show fear. If we don’t try, neither will he. I am determined to set a good example, so I am working on those things that I don’t like about myself.
The only failure I need to fear now, is failing to try. To quote Ms. Patti Labelle “I got a new attitude.” Negative thoughts – be gone! Blueberries beware, I am coming to taste you. Bike riding – I’ll master you yet. Publishers, meet your worst nightmare – a determined writer. Bugs, well, ok, I am still going to scream when I see you. Can’t change everything overnight.
Monday, May 19, 2008
The ice woman cometh
Its days like these I miss being pregnant.
Pick your jaws up off the floor. I don’t miss the bloating, gas, heartburn, back discomfort or the myriad of other medical maladies that went along with being pregnant. What I do miss is having a normal body temperature. The only time I can recall ever feeling warm is when I was pregnant.
On a normal day when the people of NY are roaming the streets in shorts and t-shirts, you’ll find me dressed in long sleeves and stockings. So, when the temperatures drop, and by that I mean anything below 70 degrees, this girl is a miserable mess.
You have to understand how cold I actually get. I am the girl who moves the heat up to 80 degrees in order to be able to sleep comfortably. (Yup, I am single handedly destroying the environment, based on the articles I have read, by not leaving my home at 62 degrees.) I wear layers of clothes and socks to bed even with the heat on that high. I snuggle up to my husband just to steal some of his warmth. He knows it too, and mocks me for it.
I have tried to determine what causes me to be this cold and there is no medical explanation. Even when I add iron to my diet or exercise to improve circulation I remain as cold as ice. So, I get stares from people as I walked the streets in a jacket -- in July. I am the reason my parents and in laws never leave the air conditioning on when we visit. I own and use more blankets then should be legally allowed.
So, today, shivering, while braving the brisk winds as I ran an errand, for a fleeting moment I thought, “Gee, I wish I was pregnant again.” Apparently, the rational part of my brain needs to be defrosted now too.
Pick your jaws up off the floor. I don’t miss the bloating, gas, heartburn, back discomfort or the myriad of other medical maladies that went along with being pregnant. What I do miss is having a normal body temperature. The only time I can recall ever feeling warm is when I was pregnant.
On a normal day when the people of NY are roaming the streets in shorts and t-shirts, you’ll find me dressed in long sleeves and stockings. So, when the temperatures drop, and by that I mean anything below 70 degrees, this girl is a miserable mess.
You have to understand how cold I actually get. I am the girl who moves the heat up to 80 degrees in order to be able to sleep comfortably. (Yup, I am single handedly destroying the environment, based on the articles I have read, by not leaving my home at 62 degrees.) I wear layers of clothes and socks to bed even with the heat on that high. I snuggle up to my husband just to steal some of his warmth. He knows it too, and mocks me for it.
I have tried to determine what causes me to be this cold and there is no medical explanation. Even when I add iron to my diet or exercise to improve circulation I remain as cold as ice. So, I get stares from people as I walked the streets in a jacket -- in July. I am the reason my parents and in laws never leave the air conditioning on when we visit. I own and use more blankets then should be legally allowed.
So, today, shivering, while braving the brisk winds as I ran an errand, for a fleeting moment I thought, “Gee, I wish I was pregnant again.” Apparently, the rational part of my brain needs to be defrosted now too.
Friday, May 16, 2008
The baby, the bus driver and the wheelchair
The bus drivers, elderly and disabled of the world will probably hate me after this post but, I mean them no harm.
Yesterday, I was on the city bus alone and an old woman came on with one of those new “walkers” that has wheels and a basket. The bus driver let down the ramp and she came on and two people gave up their seats to accommodate her and the contraption. Then, three stops later, the bus driver repeated his action for a wheelchair bound passenger and this time three people had to give up their seats to accommodate him. I sat there and internally seethed. I was pissed.
Let’s rewind to when Josh was 4 weeks old. I spent the morning rushing around to get him ready for his 1 month doctor appointment. I loaded down his carriage with all the things I would need to bring for him and buckled him in to go. After 2 blocks of walking, it started to rain. While I had packed Josh’s rain gear, I had forgotten my umbrella. Luckily, I saw a bus approaching. When it was my turn to board, the bus driver said he wouldn’t let me on until I removed the baby from the carriage and folded it up.
I looked for a candid camera. He was joking right? You want me, all by myself, to carry the diaper bag, fold up my carriage, hold and support this delicate newborn and pay my fare? I waited for him to say “just kidding”, but instead heard crickets. “Sir, “ I began “I can’t possibly do that. My son is just 4 weeks old and there is no way for me to safely get him out and fold the stuff up by myself.” (Hey, I was new to this mommy game and I had no idea what I was doing at the time.) I expected for him to acquiesce and allow me to board -- remember it was raining. At the very least, I thought someone would volunteer to help me. No such luck. The bus driver replied “Well then, I guess you can’t come on,” as he shut the door and drove away.
As I walked to the doctor’s office I got wetter and angrier with each step. I was fuming by the time I got to my destination and yesterday those emotions came flooding back. Why is a baby so different then the elderly or disabled who we allow to be accommodated? It’s not like a 4 week old can walk on its own. Plus, I could have stood on the side (of what was a pretty empty) bus without having anyone sacrifice their seats. Why is there baby discrimination?
I’m sure at one time the elderly and the disabled had this problem when they needed to get on the bus, so how did they get that sticker that orders “you must give up this seat if an elderly or disabled person needs it”? I need to get a sticker like that for moms with babies. Heck, while I’m at it, I should petition for pregnant women too. Where’s that sticker? Where’s our accommodation?
I told dear husband about my pet peeve and he pointed out that I can carry a baby while the disabled can’t actually lift themselves out of their wheelchairs. I say poo on him! Technically, the bus driver COULD lift the disabled out of their chairs, fold it up, seat them and help them get back in the chair at their stop, it just wouldn’t really be fair to the disabled or convenient for the bus driver. It’s kind of like asking a new mother to fold up her carriage while balancing a newborn and all the baby’s “accessories”. Hmmmm. On second thought, maybe that’s what I should be petitioning for, making the bus drivers have to do that for every disabled rider. Maybe then they’d have some sympathy for the moms with strollers. I show mercy though, at least I am not making them stand out in the rain while doing it.
Yesterday, I was on the city bus alone and an old woman came on with one of those new “walkers” that has wheels and a basket. The bus driver let down the ramp and she came on and two people gave up their seats to accommodate her and the contraption. Then, three stops later, the bus driver repeated his action for a wheelchair bound passenger and this time three people had to give up their seats to accommodate him. I sat there and internally seethed. I was pissed.
Let’s rewind to when Josh was 4 weeks old. I spent the morning rushing around to get him ready for his 1 month doctor appointment. I loaded down his carriage with all the things I would need to bring for him and buckled him in to go. After 2 blocks of walking, it started to rain. While I had packed Josh’s rain gear, I had forgotten my umbrella. Luckily, I saw a bus approaching. When it was my turn to board, the bus driver said he wouldn’t let me on until I removed the baby from the carriage and folded it up.
I looked for a candid camera. He was joking right? You want me, all by myself, to carry the diaper bag, fold up my carriage, hold and support this delicate newborn and pay my fare? I waited for him to say “just kidding”, but instead heard crickets. “Sir, “ I began “I can’t possibly do that. My son is just 4 weeks old and there is no way for me to safely get him out and fold the stuff up by myself.” (Hey, I was new to this mommy game and I had no idea what I was doing at the time.) I expected for him to acquiesce and allow me to board -- remember it was raining. At the very least, I thought someone would volunteer to help me. No such luck. The bus driver replied “Well then, I guess you can’t come on,” as he shut the door and drove away.
As I walked to the doctor’s office I got wetter and angrier with each step. I was fuming by the time I got to my destination and yesterday those emotions came flooding back. Why is a baby so different then the elderly or disabled who we allow to be accommodated? It’s not like a 4 week old can walk on its own. Plus, I could have stood on the side (of what was a pretty empty) bus without having anyone sacrifice their seats. Why is there baby discrimination?
I’m sure at one time the elderly and the disabled had this problem when they needed to get on the bus, so how did they get that sticker that orders “you must give up this seat if an elderly or disabled person needs it”? I need to get a sticker like that for moms with babies. Heck, while I’m at it, I should petition for pregnant women too. Where’s that sticker? Where’s our accommodation?
I told dear husband about my pet peeve and he pointed out that I can carry a baby while the disabled can’t actually lift themselves out of their wheelchairs. I say poo on him! Technically, the bus driver COULD lift the disabled out of their chairs, fold it up, seat them and help them get back in the chair at their stop, it just wouldn’t really be fair to the disabled or convenient for the bus driver. It’s kind of like asking a new mother to fold up her carriage while balancing a newborn and all the baby’s “accessories”. Hmmmm. On second thought, maybe that’s what I should be petitioning for, making the bus drivers have to do that for every disabled rider. Maybe then they’d have some sympathy for the moms with strollers. I show mercy though, at least I am not making them stand out in the rain while doing it.
Thursday, May 15, 2008
Sex and the mommy
I love my husband dearly. I am extremely attracted to him. However, these days if you offered me the choice of 4 hours of additional sleep, a case of Paul Newman's peanut butter cups, or a little somethin-somethin with my man, the choice would be a no brainer. This sleep deprived, Weight Watchers going mom would pick the sleep first , chocolate second and coming in last place would be the nookie.
It amazes me how much I have changed in the past couple of years. Before dear husband was in my life, chocolate would have been number one on the list. I believe I am responsible for sending hundreds of kids to Paul Newman's camp just from the charity raised from my peanut butter cup purchases. These days, those poor kids have to stay home in their apartments and miss out on a summer outdoors just because of my selfish desire to lose weight. Oh, the inhumanity!
Before Joshua was in my life, my husband and I loved spending time alone together and I would have chosen time with him over sleep any day. Before you get your knickers in a twist, don't worry, I am not going to tell you about our sex life, even I have boundaries. I will say that this is not just about the sex. The exhaustion that comes with having a kid makes sleep a more appealing option then quality time with your man.
When I went to my obgyn post-Joshua for a check up she advised me that, in her opinion, I should go on birth control to give my body time to recover from having a baby before I tried for a second child. Heck, who was she kidding? Do you know what the most effective form of birth control is? Have a baby! Trust me, with a newborn in the house you have got to be pretty high energy to even worry about getting pregnant again.
So, how do people do it? How do they balance taking care of themselves (with proper diet and sufficient sleep), taking care of their babies and taking care of their marriages? I still haven't figured it out, but I'll keep trying. In the meantime, tell my husband to hit the snooze button on the alarm and wake me when my chocolate has no calories/points. Dear husband, the day that happens, trust me I'll be well rested and in such a state of euphoria that you are sure to get lucky.
It amazes me how much I have changed in the past couple of years. Before dear husband was in my life, chocolate would have been number one on the list. I believe I am responsible for sending hundreds of kids to Paul Newman's camp just from the charity raised from my peanut butter cup purchases. These days, those poor kids have to stay home in their apartments and miss out on a summer outdoors just because of my selfish desire to lose weight. Oh, the inhumanity!
Before Joshua was in my life, my husband and I loved spending time alone together and I would have chosen time with him over sleep any day. Before you get your knickers in a twist, don't worry, I am not going to tell you about our sex life, even I have boundaries. I will say that this is not just about the sex. The exhaustion that comes with having a kid makes sleep a more appealing option then quality time with your man.
When I went to my obgyn post-Joshua for a check up she advised me that, in her opinion, I should go on birth control to give my body time to recover from having a baby before I tried for a second child. Heck, who was she kidding? Do you know what the most effective form of birth control is? Have a baby! Trust me, with a newborn in the house you have got to be pretty high energy to even worry about getting pregnant again.
So, how do people do it? How do they balance taking care of themselves (with proper diet and sufficient sleep), taking care of their babies and taking care of their marriages? I still haven't figured it out, but I'll keep trying. In the meantime, tell my husband to hit the snooze button on the alarm and wake me when my chocolate has no calories/points. Dear husband, the day that happens, trust me I'll be well rested and in such a state of euphoria that you are sure to get lucky.
Wednesday, May 14, 2008
Party Pooped
Whenever I try to do something nice and it blows up in my face, my husband has a mantra he repeats, “no good deed goes unpunished.” I always thought it was such a negative, cynical viewpoint but I am starting to see that he speaks the truth.
I am involved in planning two parties in a very short span of time. The motivation for my being involved in planning both these parties is my desire to make the guests of honor feel special and loved. Have you ever tried to plan a party with other people’s involvement? The date is never right, the time is never convenient, the place is too small and the food isn’t good enough.
Then, there is the battle of getting people to RSVP. You get a lot of “non-committal” replies. The: “I’ll try and stop by, but I can’t promise anything.” There is also the chasing down of the non-repliers. So many people think a party just magically appears with enough food to accommodate them, even if they never actually tell you they will be attending. Finally, there are the “last minute” repliers. They call you on the day of the party and let you know they will be coming. Thanks for that heads up buddy, it gives me a chance to roll out the red carpet for you. Would you like trumpets to announce your arrival too?
It is amazing that such a happy occasion can lead me to become so angry and vitriolic in my feelings. It’s a party! I should be laughing, happy, filled with anticipation, eager to see how pleased the guest of honors will be when feted by their friends. Instead, I become a grumbling, bitter, overwhelmed person who snaps at the 6th person who says “Are you sure Sunday at noon is the best time for a barbeque? Listen, if you think you can plan this better, why don’t you step up to the plate and do it yourself? Funny, the ones who complain to me are generally the last people to volunteer to help me with anything.
However, the day of the party will roll around and people will have a great time. The guests of honor will be so thrilled at the gesture and suddenly it all seems worth it. Looking at their smiling faces, you think, “This is what I did it for, that joy that comes from making someone else happy.” You forget all about the struggles you faced to get to this point and you think, “I guess maybe I overreacted about the difficulties after all.” That is until someone complains that the soda is too warm, another that you don’t have enough ice and yet another that the chicken is too cold.
Josh’s first birthday is in about 6 months and, with how I am feeling about parties these days, maybe we’ll just buy him a pony.
I am involved in planning two parties in a very short span of time. The motivation for my being involved in planning both these parties is my desire to make the guests of honor feel special and loved. Have you ever tried to plan a party with other people’s involvement? The date is never right, the time is never convenient, the place is too small and the food isn’t good enough.
Then, there is the battle of getting people to RSVP. You get a lot of “non-committal” replies. The: “I’ll try and stop by, but I can’t promise anything.” There is also the chasing down of the non-repliers. So many people think a party just magically appears with enough food to accommodate them, even if they never actually tell you they will be attending. Finally, there are the “last minute” repliers. They call you on the day of the party and let you know they will be coming. Thanks for that heads up buddy, it gives me a chance to roll out the red carpet for you. Would you like trumpets to announce your arrival too?
It is amazing that such a happy occasion can lead me to become so angry and vitriolic in my feelings. It’s a party! I should be laughing, happy, filled with anticipation, eager to see how pleased the guest of honors will be when feted by their friends. Instead, I become a grumbling, bitter, overwhelmed person who snaps at the 6th person who says “Are you sure Sunday at noon is the best time for a barbeque? Listen, if you think you can plan this better, why don’t you step up to the plate and do it yourself? Funny, the ones who complain to me are generally the last people to volunteer to help me with anything.
However, the day of the party will roll around and people will have a great time. The guests of honor will be so thrilled at the gesture and suddenly it all seems worth it. Looking at their smiling faces, you think, “This is what I did it for, that joy that comes from making someone else happy.” You forget all about the struggles you faced to get to this point and you think, “I guess maybe I overreacted about the difficulties after all.” That is until someone complains that the soda is too warm, another that you don’t have enough ice and yet another that the chicken is too cold.
Josh’s first birthday is in about 6 months and, with how I am feeling about parties these days, maybe we’ll just buy him a pony.
Tuesday, May 13, 2008
Neurotic
My husband quotes a friend of his who say “The definition of neurotic is: you know 1+1= 2 but you just can’t stand it.” By that definition, look up neurotic in the dictionary and there will be a BIG frowning picture of me.
I am temporarily working from home and I hate it. No, the working from home doesn’t bother me, it is the temporary part. So, I have begun searching for ways to earn money from home without much success.
First, there are the websites that promise you can make up to $5,000 a week working from the comfort of your own home for just one hour a day! “I never knew stuffing envelopes was that lucrative,” I thought as I scrolled down the screen to read more. As I get to the end of the page, I am told that all the secrets to fast money, working from home, can be mine for just $99.95. I just figured out how that website owner makes their money.
Then there is the independent sales people pitch. You know them, they want you to sell cosmetics, cleaning products, nutritional supplements, etc. They are all eager to sign you up. They almost seem like robots in the lingo they spout. The scripts are almost identical regardless of the product they are trying to get you to distribute. If you scratch the surface you find out that, for them to make real money, you need to sell for them too. Then, if you want to make money too, you need to rope in some other poor sap. In most cases you find that, when you are done with this money making plan, you have just bought yourself $300 worth of vitamins.
Then there are the well meaning friends. They say: “You should try medical transcription/data entry/customer service, you can do that from home.” “Really?” I answer. “How would I do that?” “I’m not sure, but I bet there is information online.” is always their reply. When I go online, I find out that, once again, the secrets to these jobs can be mine for ONLY $49.95. This guy has got to get with the program, the other websites are charging $99.95, how does this website owner expect to feed his family with these ridiculously low prices?
I’ll keep searching for a legitimate way to earn money and work from home but if I haven’t found one by the end of my temporary contract, I’ll have a choice to make. Do I return to the office, the arduous commute to work and the shortened time with my son or do I quit my job? Being a one income household will mean we will have to cut down on those “extravagances” like bottled water and our weekly Sunday take-out ritual. Yes, with no cable, no fancy vacations, that’s what we “waste” our money on now.
The problem is, that neither solution works for me. Will I be happy struggling for money? No. Will I be happy missing out on playing with Josh? The thought makes me weepy as I write it. However, if I don’t find another answer I will have to make a choice and I hate that! What other reaction did you expect from a neurotic mom like me?
I am temporarily working from home and I hate it. No, the working from home doesn’t bother me, it is the temporary part. So, I have begun searching for ways to earn money from home without much success.
First, there are the websites that promise you can make up to $5,000 a week working from the comfort of your own home for just one hour a day! “I never knew stuffing envelopes was that lucrative,” I thought as I scrolled down the screen to read more. As I get to the end of the page, I am told that all the secrets to fast money, working from home, can be mine for just $99.95. I just figured out how that website owner makes their money.
Then there is the independent sales people pitch. You know them, they want you to sell cosmetics, cleaning products, nutritional supplements, etc. They are all eager to sign you up. They almost seem like robots in the lingo they spout. The scripts are almost identical regardless of the product they are trying to get you to distribute. If you scratch the surface you find out that, for them to make real money, you need to sell for them too. Then, if you want to make money too, you need to rope in some other poor sap. In most cases you find that, when you are done with this money making plan, you have just bought yourself $300 worth of vitamins.
Then there are the well meaning friends. They say: “You should try medical transcription/data entry/customer service, you can do that from home.” “Really?” I answer. “How would I do that?” “I’m not sure, but I bet there is information online.” is always their reply. When I go online, I find out that, once again, the secrets to these jobs can be mine for ONLY $49.95. This guy has got to get with the program, the other websites are charging $99.95, how does this website owner expect to feed his family with these ridiculously low prices?
I’ll keep searching for a legitimate way to earn money and work from home but if I haven’t found one by the end of my temporary contract, I’ll have a choice to make. Do I return to the office, the arduous commute to work and the shortened time with my son or do I quit my job? Being a one income household will mean we will have to cut down on those “extravagances” like bottled water and our weekly Sunday take-out ritual. Yes, with no cable, no fancy vacations, that’s what we “waste” our money on now.
The problem is, that neither solution works for me. Will I be happy struggling for money? No. Will I be happy missing out on playing with Josh? The thought makes me weepy as I write it. However, if I don’t find another answer I will have to make a choice and I hate that! What other reaction did you expect from a neurotic mom like me?
Monday, May 12, 2008
Leaving the house with pee-pee on my skirt
Yesterday, was mother’s day, my first, and it was jam packed with family, food and frustration. I awoke to cards from the husband and my boy. Josh has also apparently mastered his online shopping skills because he bought me a lovely locket from an online merchant. I knew that boy was gifted! (No pun intended.)
A good friend called me in the morning to wish me happy mother’s day and she ordered my husband to treat me like royalty. My husband said “Snow White was royalty and she still had to work for seven dwarves.” If I am Snow white in this analogy is my husband a dwarf? Funny that he’d do a short joke about himself.
Another friend warned me that mother’s day wasn’t REALLY about me, that it was about the grandmothers and when I became a grandmother myself, that’s when I’d enjoy the “holiday”. Well, after running from one end of the state of NY to the other to see both sides of the family AND grocery shopping plus shopping for the baby in between, I have to say, I agree.
At some point during the day somebody asked me if, now that I celebrated my first mothers day, I felt like it was “official” that I was a mom now. I didn’t even hesitate when I said no. See, I felt like an “official” mom months ago. I remember the moment very clearly when I knew I was a mom and everything really had changed.
It was a busy morning, Josh had been extremely fussy and wouldn’t let me put him down without wailing like a fire truck. My clothes were half on for most of the morning and I was starving. I finished getting dressed, packed Josh’s diaper bag, forgot about the idea that I MIGHT have a chance to finally blow dry my hair and then proceeded to dress Josh. As I was changing his diaper, the fountain went off and a stream of pee went all over my skirt. I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. I was already running late and really had no time to change. I waffled about what to do and I made my decision. I finished dressing Josh, put on my coat and left the house. I left the house with pee all over my skirt.
As I wheeled Josh’s carriage outside on a brisk winter day, thinking about the pee on my skirt, I couldn’t believe what I had done. If I noticed a stain on my skirt in the past, it was off with that skirt on with a new one. Since that “pee skirt” day, I’ve left the house with with pee, formula, mushed carrots and god knows what else on my clothes without a second thought. So, no, mother’s day didn’t make me feel like an official mom. A lot of pee-pee on a new skirt did the trick a long time ago. It’s OK, I didn’t like the skirt that much anyway.
Happy Mothers Day to all the moms out there!
A good friend called me in the morning to wish me happy mother’s day and she ordered my husband to treat me like royalty. My husband said “Snow White was royalty and she still had to work for seven dwarves.” If I am Snow white in this analogy is my husband a dwarf? Funny that he’d do a short joke about himself.
Another friend warned me that mother’s day wasn’t REALLY about me, that it was about the grandmothers and when I became a grandmother myself, that’s when I’d enjoy the “holiday”. Well, after running from one end of the state of NY to the other to see both sides of the family AND grocery shopping plus shopping for the baby in between, I have to say, I agree.
At some point during the day somebody asked me if, now that I celebrated my first mothers day, I felt like it was “official” that I was a mom now. I didn’t even hesitate when I said no. See, I felt like an “official” mom months ago. I remember the moment very clearly when I knew I was a mom and everything really had changed.
It was a busy morning, Josh had been extremely fussy and wouldn’t let me put him down without wailing like a fire truck. My clothes were half on for most of the morning and I was starving. I finished getting dressed, packed Josh’s diaper bag, forgot about the idea that I MIGHT have a chance to finally blow dry my hair and then proceeded to dress Josh. As I was changing his diaper, the fountain went off and a stream of pee went all over my skirt. I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. I was already running late and really had no time to change. I waffled about what to do and I made my decision. I finished dressing Josh, put on my coat and left the house. I left the house with pee all over my skirt.
As I wheeled Josh’s carriage outside on a brisk winter day, thinking about the pee on my skirt, I couldn’t believe what I had done. If I noticed a stain on my skirt in the past, it was off with that skirt on with a new one. Since that “pee skirt” day, I’ve left the house with with pee, formula, mushed carrots and god knows what else on my clothes without a second thought. So, no, mother’s day didn’t make me feel like an official mom. A lot of pee-pee on a new skirt did the trick a long time ago. It’s OK, I didn’t like the skirt that much anyway.
Happy Mothers Day to all the moms out there!
Friday, May 9, 2008
Dr. P, the Skinny Cow is making a comeback!
So, a couple of days ago, I went to the doctor for “routine maintenance” and part of the drill is being weighed. Now, I knew the number would not be one I was happy to see but NEVER in my wildest dreams did I think it would be THAT high. I haven’t been this heavy in over 10 years!
When you watch those shows like Jerry Springer, (Come on, admit it, you’ve caught yourself watching it, much as you would an accident on the side of a highway) and you see those 600 pound people who need to be cut out of their house, you wonder, how they didn’t notice. I kind of get in now.
Most days, I wake up and think “nothing in my closet fits, I am sooooo fat.” However, there are days I wake up in the morning, put on something that I actually feel like I look pretty good in. On those days, I don’t even notice the weight gain at all. Delusional? Perhaps. However, those moments, where I think nothing has changed about my body, have “fed” my continuing to eat poorly. If I can still fit into any of my pre-pregnancy skirts, even if it IS cutting off my circulation, I must still be the same weight, right?
Well, seeing that number shattered any illusions I had. I am not the same weight I was pre- Joshua and, while he was worth every pound gained, he deserves a healthy mommy.
So, I am back on Weight Watchers. There are fruits and vegetables in my fridge and my freezer is now full with my WW staples of Dr. Praeger’s pizza bagels and fish. When I was on WW before having Josh, Dr. Praeger’s items were a HUGE part in my success in dropping my excess weight. It allowed me to eat “nosh” in a points friendly way. Yes, I still had my veggies, water and all that healthy stuff but this made me feel like I was “cheating” when I was following all the rules
Another item I discovered on WW was Skinny Cow ice-cream sandwiches. They remind me of the flying saucers I had in Carvel when I was a kid. I bought them so frequently the last time I was on WW that my husband starting calling me (affectionately) his “skinny cow”. Yes, when I write it down here, it doesn’t sound too good, but trust me, it was very sweet.
So, it is day 3 for me on WW and so far, so good. While last week, I would have been baking chocolate chip cookies for shabbos, this week I bought some grapes instead. Yay me! I may be slow to make a move but, once I do, I am pretty good at keeping on track. So, my dear husband, leave a light on, cause your skinny cow is heading home.
When you watch those shows like Jerry Springer, (Come on, admit it, you’ve caught yourself watching it, much as you would an accident on the side of a highway) and you see those 600 pound people who need to be cut out of their house, you wonder, how they didn’t notice. I kind of get in now.
Most days, I wake up and think “nothing in my closet fits, I am sooooo fat.” However, there are days I wake up in the morning, put on something that I actually feel like I look pretty good in. On those days, I don’t even notice the weight gain at all. Delusional? Perhaps. However, those moments, where I think nothing has changed about my body, have “fed” my continuing to eat poorly. If I can still fit into any of my pre-pregnancy skirts, even if it IS cutting off my circulation, I must still be the same weight, right?
Well, seeing that number shattered any illusions I had. I am not the same weight I was pre- Joshua and, while he was worth every pound gained, he deserves a healthy mommy.
So, I am back on Weight Watchers. There are fruits and vegetables in my fridge and my freezer is now full with my WW staples of Dr. Praeger’s pizza bagels and fish. When I was on WW before having Josh, Dr. Praeger’s items were a HUGE part in my success in dropping my excess weight. It allowed me to eat “nosh” in a points friendly way. Yes, I still had my veggies, water and all that healthy stuff but this made me feel like I was “cheating” when I was following all the rules
Another item I discovered on WW was Skinny Cow ice-cream sandwiches. They remind me of the flying saucers I had in Carvel when I was a kid. I bought them so frequently the last time I was on WW that my husband starting calling me (affectionately) his “skinny cow”. Yes, when I write it down here, it doesn’t sound too good, but trust me, it was very sweet.
So, it is day 3 for me on WW and so far, so good. While last week, I would have been baking chocolate chip cookies for shabbos, this week I bought some grapes instead. Yay me! I may be slow to make a move but, once I do, I am pretty good at keeping on track. So, my dear husband, leave a light on, cause your skinny cow is heading home.
Thursday, May 8, 2008
I am an Entertainment Weekly Pop Culture Quiz Failure
I have failed. It is difficult to admit this, but perhaps there is something I can learn from this experience.
I am a couple of weeks (OK, months) behind on my magazine reading - that is not baby related. So, I just took a quiz in Entertainment Weekly about all the stuff that is hip and now. I was horrified to discover that my knowledge of today’s pop culture has woefully diminished. Can you believe it? Me, the “go to girl” for pop culture references. Even those things I didn’t watch or see in the past, I at least read about so I could speak about knowledgably. These days I can tell you more about what line of diapers are best then explain why Mariah Carey married Nick Cannon after a whirlwind 6 week courtship.
I don’t know when I went from choosing to buy US Weekly and People on a routine basis to choosing Good Housekeeping and Ladies Home Journal from the magazine stands. Don’t get me wrong, I still have my Entertainment Weekly subscription and I am a frequent visitor to People.com and TMZ, but I find myself reading Parenting before I do any of my entertainment magazines.
I am not the first person to fall so far from greatness, but, nevertheless, it hits me hard. When a friend referenced David Archuleta the other night and she further explained he was a contestant on American Idol this season, I pretended to know exactly who she was talking about, but inside, I knew I was a fraud.
How could something that took up so much of my free time have become so backburner? Well, take a look at the face in the picture on this blog. Getting that kid to burp so he feels better has become more of an accomplishment to me now then naming all the winners of Dancing with the Stars.
I read on some gossip website that said Nicole Richie was asking her friends “Am I still fun now that I had the baby?” Whether the story is true or not, I relate. I feel like all my stories, every fiber of my being now is all about my son. The things that brought me pleasure before still do but, not half as much as watching that boy’s face light up with a smile. So I ask myself, when all I can seem to do is talk about all things baby related, am I still fun now?
Perhaps there is a way to combine my old passion with my new one. Maybe there is a way to make me hip and fun again while still focusing on my son. Do you think Nicole Richie, Christina Aguilera, Halle Berry & Jennifer Lopez would be interested in joining my new mommies playgroup?
I am a couple of weeks (OK, months) behind on my magazine reading - that is not baby related. So, I just took a quiz in Entertainment Weekly about all the stuff that is hip and now. I was horrified to discover that my knowledge of today’s pop culture has woefully diminished. Can you believe it? Me, the “go to girl” for pop culture references. Even those things I didn’t watch or see in the past, I at least read about so I could speak about knowledgably. These days I can tell you more about what line of diapers are best then explain why Mariah Carey married Nick Cannon after a whirlwind 6 week courtship.
I don’t know when I went from choosing to buy US Weekly and People on a routine basis to choosing Good Housekeeping and Ladies Home Journal from the magazine stands. Don’t get me wrong, I still have my Entertainment Weekly subscription and I am a frequent visitor to People.com and TMZ, but I find myself reading Parenting before I do any of my entertainment magazines.
I am not the first person to fall so far from greatness, but, nevertheless, it hits me hard. When a friend referenced David Archuleta the other night and she further explained he was a contestant on American Idol this season, I pretended to know exactly who she was talking about, but inside, I knew I was a fraud.
How could something that took up so much of my free time have become so backburner? Well, take a look at the face in the picture on this blog. Getting that kid to burp so he feels better has become more of an accomplishment to me now then naming all the winners of Dancing with the Stars.
I read on some gossip website that said Nicole Richie was asking her friends “Am I still fun now that I had the baby?” Whether the story is true or not, I relate. I feel like all my stories, every fiber of my being now is all about my son. The things that brought me pleasure before still do but, not half as much as watching that boy’s face light up with a smile. So I ask myself, when all I can seem to do is talk about all things baby related, am I still fun now?
Perhaps there is a way to combine my old passion with my new one. Maybe there is a way to make me hip and fun again while still focusing on my son. Do you think Nicole Richie, Christina Aguilera, Halle Berry & Jennifer Lopez would be interested in joining my new mommies playgroup?
Monday, May 5, 2008
Other moms lie
As a first time mom I am starting a revolution. I tell the truth, I sing it loud and proud, although I try to do it with a sense of humor.
Before the birth of our son, all I heard about was how wonderful parenthood is, how having a child is the most amazing experience in the world. While I don't dispute that, it is also the most challenging thing you will ever do. I would throw myself in front of a bus for my little guy, but there are times I'd like to get on that bus and head straight to a spa for a week while leaving him home with his dad. I love my husband more than I ever thought possible, my heart swells with love when I see him playing with our little guy. Yet, I also think "who is this man and why did I marry him?", when he hands our son off to me to change yet another poopie diaper.
To those moms who said to me, and continue to say, that their newborn sleeps through the night, never cries, breastfeeds perfectly AND that their husbands are perfect helpers who pitch in without even being asked -- I say yeah, right. Either you live in some strange utopian universe where babies and husbands are perfect angels, or you are lying to me. I say, fess up.
You are not a bad mom if you don't produce enough milk and need to formula feed. You are not a bad mom if you wish you could just have that life back where you could get out of the house in 5 minutes instead of five hours. You are normal. You are everymom.
You are not a bad wife if you fantasize leaving your husband at home for a week all alone with the baby to see if he breaks down crying with joy upon your return, suddenly really understanding how overwhelmed you feel. You are not a bad wife if you miss "dating" your husband but, when you have the opportunity or a babysitter that allows you some alone time with your man, you'd rather just take a nap. You are normal. You are everymom.
All that being said....I am blessed to have a happy, healthy and well adjusted baby, even if he refuses to roll over yet like all the other mommies of babies his age say their kids do. (I think that means he's smarter than the other babies, why roll over when you can have mommy do it for you?) I am doubly blessed to have a husband who, despite long hours in the office, helps a lot around the house and with the baby when I ask him. (Even if he folds the laundry in a way that creates the maximum wrinkles possible..how does he do it?) However, at 4 months old, my son has yet to learn how to cook and bring me breakfast in bed. Based on what I hear from the other moms, their babies did that at 5 months old. I can smell the pancakes already.
* Disclaimer, this is a reprint of a blog I posted on another site when my son was 4 months old, he is now 6 months old :)
Before the birth of our son, all I heard about was how wonderful parenthood is, how having a child is the most amazing experience in the world. While I don't dispute that, it is also the most challenging thing you will ever do. I would throw myself in front of a bus for my little guy, but there are times I'd like to get on that bus and head straight to a spa for a week while leaving him home with his dad. I love my husband more than I ever thought possible, my heart swells with love when I see him playing with our little guy. Yet, I also think "who is this man and why did I marry him?", when he hands our son off to me to change yet another poopie diaper.
To those moms who said to me, and continue to say, that their newborn sleeps through the night, never cries, breastfeeds perfectly AND that their husbands are perfect helpers who pitch in without even being asked -- I say yeah, right. Either you live in some strange utopian universe where babies and husbands are perfect angels, or you are lying to me. I say, fess up.
You are not a bad mom if you don't produce enough milk and need to formula feed. You are not a bad mom if you wish you could just have that life back where you could get out of the house in 5 minutes instead of five hours. You are normal. You are everymom.
You are not a bad wife if you fantasize leaving your husband at home for a week all alone with the baby to see if he breaks down crying with joy upon your return, suddenly really understanding how overwhelmed you feel. You are not a bad wife if you miss "dating" your husband but, when you have the opportunity or a babysitter that allows you some alone time with your man, you'd rather just take a nap. You are normal. You are everymom.
All that being said....I am blessed to have a happy, healthy and well adjusted baby, even if he refuses to roll over yet like all the other mommies of babies his age say their kids do. (I think that means he's smarter than the other babies, why roll over when you can have mommy do it for you?) I am doubly blessed to have a husband who, despite long hours in the office, helps a lot around the house and with the baby when I ask him. (Even if he folds the laundry in a way that creates the maximum wrinkles possible..how does he do it?) However, at 4 months old, my son has yet to learn how to cook and bring me breakfast in bed. Based on what I hear from the other moms, their babies did that at 5 months old. I can smell the pancakes already.
* Disclaimer, this is a reprint of a blog I posted on another site when my son was 4 months old, he is now 6 months old :)
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