Friday, November 30, 2012

Where I talk about some serious stuff...

So I feel a need to get some serious Mommy stuff off my chest.

Working full time is hard. But I imagine that being a stay at home mom (SAHM) would also be hard. Basically, being a mom is hard.

I have the most perfect little boy:

How can you not fall in love with this little guy?
I've had a rough week. None of it is caused by baby Goo. But, it might be caused by the absence of baby Goo.

Let me preface this by saying that I do not think that I have postpartum depression. I think I'm just having a rough, emotional, tiring week. The stress of preparing for this conference has led me to not sleep well, my lack of sleep has ramped up my emotions, and the fact that I had baby Billy for 4 1/2 straight days over the Thanksgiving weekend spoiled me.

I absolutely love my little guy to pieces. He's just so perfect. Even when he's pooping outside of his diaper, spitting up all over me (and himself... and the floor... and the new leather couch... and if he could... the cat), or fussing. He's just a perfect little dude.

When I pick him up from daycare, I just want to hold him, hug him, and breathe him in.

When he's not in my care (or my husband's, or his grandparent's), I just feel an absolute loss of control. I don't know what's going on when I'm not there. I don't know if the other kids are being nice to him. I don't know what happens if another one of the kids gets out of line with him. I don't know if the other kids are taking his toys (I send him to daycare with some of his own toys). I don't know if he's being held enough. I don't know if he's being protected the way I would. I don't... ugh. I just don't.

I don't know if he misses me as much as I miss him.

BUT - I have to ask myself - could I handle being a SAHM? If I'm being honest, I'd probably have to say no. I feel like I need some time to be me. Which makes me feel selfish and guilty.

Could I work part time - no, not really. We need my paycheck to pay the bills. Plus - I happen to like my job, and I don't really have a part time option available to me.

So basically, this week has been filled with anxiety dreams (some about zombies - no joke), stress, exhaustion, worry, and the fighting back of tears.

I know I'm told that it'll get better... but I wish it would get better sooner, rather than later.

Thursday, November 15, 2012

Where I expain my long absence from blogging... and other observations...

So, I've been a bit remiss in blogging. Oops.

But I swear I have a really solid reason:

He gets his good looks from his mother. Hopefully he doesn't get her generally bad attitude as well.
Yup. I had a baby! His name is William Raymond Calderon IV, and he came into this world on Sunday, July 8th at 11:11 PM. He was 8 pounds, 8 ounces.

He just turned 4 months old, and he's a sweetheart. His nicknames are Baby Goo, The Poopinator, and Sir Poops-a-lot. You might see a theme there.

Thankfully the sleepless nights are mostly over now. He's been sleeping through the night for a couple of months. I've been blessed with a baby who sleeps like a rock. For now.

Motherhood has its ups and down. Almost all of the "ups" involve baby Billy, and most of the "downs" involve hormones, emotions, boobs, and Daddy. But, eh... so far it's all worth it.

On the boobs front - I must admit that I never thought I'd think about my boobs this much. I mean, sure, they were always there... but they never really served a purpose. Now I'm constantly having to plan my day around them. Like, okay... pump first... THEN go shopping. Pump first... THEN take a shower. Pump first... THEN eat lunch.

Anyway, moving on from the topic of my boobs...

There's been an interesting phenomenon on the Chicagoland highways lately.

Everyday I see signs that say how many traffic deaths there have been this year:

Lah Dee Dah - Let's think about death while you're commuting for an hour and half!

This is Goddamn depressing.

I commute 39 miles to work, and 39 miles back. I get to see three of these signs everyday, five days a week.

I think that picture was taken back in July or August, because the death toll as of today was 844. I mean, thank you IDOT, for reminding me that I may or may not die while trying to get home today. Assholes.

That message is usually followed by one of the following: "Don't Text and Drive," "Don't Drink and Drive," and "Buckle Up!"

The message is sound, and I understand the reasoning behind it. But I also feel that if someone is texting and driving, or drinking and driving, they already know it's a bad idea - they just don't care.

For the rest of us, it's just a depressing statistic. And let's face it, I'm already depressed enough when I'm stuck in stop and go traffic for over an hour (each way) on the Eisenhower. WHY DO YOU HAVE TO GUT PUNCH ME, IDOT? WHY???

I've starting playing a morbid little game with myself. I place a self bet as to what the number will be today. Yesterday I think it was 842. So 2 people died between yesterday and today. Ugh.

But, on that note, here's a cute baby:

The drool makes the picture.

Friday, January 13, 2012

Where I show that I'm not biased just towards SUVs...

My friend Barbara has yet again inspired a blog entry. Thank you Barbara, sometimes your righteous indignation gives me the best ideas.

Shall we begin?

It has been pointed out to me that everytime I bash SUVs and the people that drive them, that sometimes Barbara wants to punch kittens, or something along those lines. So in an effort to show that I'm not discriminatory in my opinions towards SUVs, I've come up with a list of all the vehicles that irritate me.

Let's count down:

7. Minivans

Actually, I kid. I just wanted to aggravate Barbara again. Minivans don't really upset me. My first car was a 1991 Plymouth Voyager.

But in a way, my experience driving one for several years has led to minor irritation. Because I drove 4-cyl minivan, I know full well what they're capable of. Most minivans nowadays are 6-cyl. So when I get stuck behind a needlessly slow moving minivan, I do get a little annoyed. I know they can move faster than that.

But now that I have a child on the way, I understand why some of these soccer moms are driving more slowly than other vehicles. They're trying to protect their kids. My only word of advice: don't drive slower than the posted speed limit. That is sometimes just as dangerous, if not more so, than speeding.

6. Lincolns

Specifically, Lincolns bother me when I'm behind them. For some reason I don't like the back end of a Lincoln. I just don't like the way it looks. I acknowledge that this isn't entirely rational.

I told my father about how I don't like Lincolns and he admitted that he doesn't like Lincolns either, and never had. So maybe this is a learned behavior on my part.

5.Chevy Camaros

Every man I have ever known or met that drives a Camaro is kind of a douchebag. Mind you, my husband drove a Trans Am before we ever met, and Trans Ams, Firebirds, and Camaros are all practically the same beast. But at least it was long gone before I ever knew him.

Plus, let's be honest, my husband is kind of a jerk sometimes (I'm not perfect either).

4. Brown Buicks

It doesn't matter the model, but if it's brown, and it's a Buick, I don't like it. It's usually some old fart driving it, and the only thing worse than getting stuck behind a brown Buick is getting stuck behind two brown Buicks.

Oh, and before you tell me I'm prejudiced against old people - my uncle is an actuary for an insurance company, and he has said that a majority of people driving brown Buicks are over the age of 60. It is an actual statistic.

3. Oversized Pick-up Trucks

I am a firm believer that unless a large Pick-up truck is being used for work purposes (Construction, farming, etc.), and just driven as a primary vehicle, that the man driving it is overcompensating for a small penis.

My best friend wrote a song about my feelings. It's called "Big Rick."

2. Chyslers, specifically Chrysler Sebrings

A 2000 Chrysler Sebring is the sole reason why I will never own a Chrysler again.
My husband and I briefly owned one. It had a poltergeist in its engine. Honest Injun. We dumped so much money into this thing, trying to get it running properly, and no mechanic we took it to could ever figure out what the hell was actually wrong with it. It would just die for (seemingly) no reason. It would only die when you were at a complete stop. There was no overheating of the engine. It just would... die.

It only had about 70,000 miles on it. Once it died, you couldn't get it running again for at least five to ten minutes. Then it would usually continue to run. But let me tell you, when your car is inexplicably dead at a red light on North Ave, that is a pretty high stress situation there.

It was a bit annoying when the tow truck drivers would say, "Your problem is that it's a Chrysler." I remember snapping at one of the guys who said that. He shut his piehole pretty quickly.

1. SUVs.

I already have two blog entries that list why I don't like SUVs, and a certain portion of the people who drive them. So you can reference those: