Aftermath

This morning I woke up next to my plump, red-cheeked, smiling little Gingy boy, who was all full of piss and vinegar and ready to take on the day. Then I immediately thought of the twenty families who for the first time are waking up without their children, and it was almost unbearable to me.

I think it's ok to admit that I'm traumatized by what happened yesterday. I'm not just pretending so I look like a good person who cares - I'm actually really devastated. I have a singing gig tonight and the idea of getting all festively dressed up and singing happy Christmas songs kind of makes me sick. I need to put my usual Christmas joy on hold for just a few days. It just doesn't feel right or appropriate to be celebrating right now.

I tried yesterday to keep mentally active thinking about other things in order to avoid going down the rabbit hole, but go I did. And then I started imagining all the scenarios. And thinking about all the cruelty to children around the world, throughout history. Thinking about that This American Life episode about the massacres in Guatemala in the 80s. Then I was checking my fellow blogs and discovered to my horror that one pregnant blogger went into labor at nineteen weeks and had to watch her tiny baby die in her arms. I can't stand it. Where do you go from there? What do you do?

I always swore I wouldn't be one of those people who becomes a mother and then wimps out - ie, loses a sense of humor and irony, can't handle watching movies or TV shows about serial killers, etc. but I have to admit - it's kind of happening to me. I thought it was hormonal (and it may well be), but I find it harder and harder to watch anything that involves death or injury or people being cruel to each other, particularly cruelty to babies, children, or animals. I have a friend who is extremely sensitive and can't handle anything dark or negative at all - whenever we're going to see a movie she asks if there's going to be Peril in it, and if there is, she can't hang. I kind of get it now. I find I need to surround myself with a lot more positivity than I used to need to. Especially after things like yesterday happen.

Of course it's all over FB, and it's interesting to see how people react in situations like this. Many get angry and use it to push their political agendas (pro or anti gun). Many use it to push their religious (read: Christian) agendas. Most of us just said we're sorry and we're going to hug our kids extra tight. But I can tell based on this morning's feed that some people are moving on and some aren't. I fall into the latter category.

You want to know what I'm sick of? I'm sick of mentally ill, fucked up teenaged and twenty-something white men taking out their anger and insecurities on innocent people. Go do martial arts, go travel, get in the military, do something to focus that rage. You've got every frigging advantage in this world - use it! I know these guys are sick and not in control of themselves, but right now I don't really care. I'm just sick and tired of innocent people being killed and suffering. Ok. That's enough from me. I'm going to go slather my face with makeup, put on a holiday dress, go to my gig, and try to pretend I'm not weeping inside.

Tragedies & Progress

...and another blog post deleted just as I'm about to publish it. Ok, let me see if I can completely recreate this from memory...

I started by talking about today's horrible tragedy in Newtown, Connecticut, which also happens to be the very town where my mother and aunt grew up, my grandparents lived for 50+ years, and I spent practically every Christmas, Thanksgiving, and summer of my childhood. The thought of something so horrific happening at all, much less in such an idyllic, rural place, is just horrendous. I can't imagine what those parents are going through right now. Everyone is posting "hug your babies" on Facebook. Yes, indeed.

Before I got out of bed and turned on the radio, I was having happy fantasies about my proposed attic conversion. Still no estimate. But I'm thinking if I have enough in my line of credit and savings, I am just going to go for it now, since if I wait to save the money the main use for the space will be at least partially lost. I do want it to be B's sleeping space at some point, if he wants to sleep up there - and certainly a good overnight guest space. But it also dawned on me that it will solve one of my major problems, that being, how to make this house safe and practical for a baby or small child, and how to have other children over? It was breaking my heart thinking about not being able to have play dates because this house is such a death trap, full of antique furniture with sharp edges, cords that can be pulled down, and electronics. But if I have an open space that can be nothing but a soft carpet and toys, it would be perfect for having over other kids. I picture a built-in reading nook where I can enjoy a chai latte with the other moms while the kids go nuts; and this can later be B's private space, and then my private space when he's off on his own one day. So I am very excited about that!

I also put my big girl pants on and called Kaiser back yesterday - turns out they just needed to verify some information. And the woman on the phone, when I recounted the whole birth cost history, encouragingly said, "yeah, that doesn't sound right". I'm not saying I'm going to be successful in this whole quest to get my money back - but I am starting to wonder if I really was just blatantly overcharged, and then I wonder how many other people have been overcharged for their birth, called to complain as I did but then were just shut down as I was, and gave up? It sounds kind of criminal, to me. Or if not criminal then very unethical.

Package arrived on my doorstep today, it was my mother's self-published autobiography, the one she had me read some years ago which I was slightly offended to discover barely mentioned me or my sister at all, and had my sister's birth year wrong. Honestly I would throw this narcissism-fest in the garbage if I didn't think B might be interested in it some day; after all, I kept my father's crazy self-published book about his adventures as a yogi from another planet who made up his own language, why not keep this?

Dear Son

Dear Son,

Many parents wish to have children that are going to grow up to be the best-looking, richest, most successful men and women in the world, to make their parents proud. You know what my wish is for you, what would make me proud? If you were to be wonderfully, exceptionally average.

I want you to be smart, but not too smart. Extremely smart people are often socially inept. They also often feel isolated and removed from their peers, like they don't fit in. Or they feel most of society is beneath them because they're so brilliant. I want you to feel like you fit right in, that some people are smarter than you and some not as smart, but it doesn't matter, because you're too busy enjoying your life to think about those things.

I want you to be handsome, but not too handsome. Good looking people are treated differently from birth, and it's a struggle to not grow up thinking you're entitled when you're always getting the red carpet treatment because you're attractive. It's also not healthy to always get every guy or girl you're interested in, to always be the dumper and not the dumpee. A little unrequited love and the occasional broken heart is good for everyone.

I want you to be talented, but not too talented. This is a tough one, because there is nothing I would want more for you than to be a successful musician or artist of some kind, to enjoy what you do and make a decent living. But again, being insanely talented has drawbacks. The insanely talented often get taken advantage of by unscrupulous agents, managers, and accountants. The insanely talented are the media darling...until the inevitable brutal backlash. The insanely talented have few peers. The insanely talented are often tortured and lonely.

I want you to be just handsome, smart, and talented ENOUGH. And to know that you are always enough no matter what, even when you feel like you're just not making it, even when you're struggling.

I want you to be surrounded by love and friends who like you for you, not because of something you can do for them. I want you to feel like you fit in, and that you belong. I want you to know all kinds of people, relate to all kinds of people, and have empathy for them.

I want you to forever hover at the 50th percentile mark. I want you to be amazingly average to the world, even though you'll always be a star to me.

Love,

Your Mom

Pussing out

Today I wrapped B's presents while he hung out in the jumper nearby, oblivious to the fun times ahead. I don't know why it's so funny to me that I'm buying presents for a little baby for him to "unwrap" after he's already seen them, but this just cracks me up. I'm going to have to keep an eye on the wrapping to make sure he doesn't choke on any of it!

I paid my third visit to Bed Rest Friend in the hospital today, brought her some festive Christmas slippers. It appears despite the dire predictions of being in the hospital until March, it appears they are now going to release her next week...! Personally as much as I'd be happy if it were me, I also would be a little pissed that I had made all these arrangements for an extended stay, only to be told it was all just a precaution. But now she has the challenge of being home where she can't be looked after and waited on all day. I would find that a little daunting. Still, at least now I can bring over movies and I don't have to worry about my meter running out when I visit anymore.

I am pussing out on two situations in my life right now. One is confronting the friend who showed up on my doorstep; I'm just sitting here with my thumb up my ass waiting for her to do something when really I should pro-actively send her a "Dear John" email. The other is I decided to challenge Kaiser about all my hospital fees; don't know if I mentioned it here but one of my mommy group mommies mentioned she'd had her son at Kaiser Sunset as well, had also spiked a fever during labor, and the boy was kept in the NICU just like Bumpus. And she was charged separate charges as I was, but fought it, having believed that he was covered for the first 30 days before he could incur his own charges. She said it took seven months and everyone she spoke to denied her until the end, but she finally got her money back. So naturally I felt the need to file a grievance, too, and the woman on the phone told me she'd dealt with this situation many times and said that I was wrong, that I was charged correctly. But I submitted it anyway, and much to my surprise got a call the very next day, then got a letter today, wanting more information. And it's been two days and I have not called this person back, because I know they're just going to tell me I have no case, and then I have to make the decision to either get angry and demanding or crawl away with my tail between my legs, knowing I could potentially get something like $5000 back but I was too chicken to stand up for myself. I hate, hate, hate this shit. The lady in my group had an insurance broker that handled this stuff for her - I would kill for an advocate in this situation. I know I have to call back tomorrow or kiss this whole thing goodbye - but honestly I wish I had never had this conversation-! Knowing I was probably totally taken advantage of, and probably can do nothing about it, kills me inside.

First gifts, sockie shoes, and rat carcasses

So I bit the bullet and bought Bumpus his very first Christmas presents today. Here's the joy of shopping in the middle of the day on a Tuesday - nobody's in the store. Here's the drag of shopping in the middle of the day on a Tuesday - there's no stuff in the store. After what must have been an orgy of weekend mid-season shopping, the shelves were all but bare. My selection for the 3-12 month set mostly consisted of really loud, cloying musical toys that I absolutely could not stand having to listen to all day, every day. Don't any of these toy makers know about Artie Shaw, or Brasil '66, or Beck? No?

Anyway after almost giving up I turned the corner and found the aging hipster doofus parent aisle, which immediately appealed to me with its eco-friendly packaging and muted, vintage-y colors. I stocked up on cool shaped balls and squeezy blocks, then compromised with a fake cell phone and some building blocks. That and some new moccasins, socks, pants, a couple of lightweight jackets and a ridiculously cute elf costume (oh, just wait), and I think we're set!

I also just had a contractor over to assess my attic situation. He enthusiastically said it was a great space and could definitely support the weight of finishing and be a legal space (not a bedroom, but I could throw a bed up there and call it a day). So I know it can be done, it's just a question of how much (tremble). Oh, and there was a dead rat up there. Good times. Estimate to follow. I'm hoping in the neighborhood of $20,000. That's not too bad to add an (illegal extra bedroom) to your house, huh? This will probably add more value to this property than anything else I've done around here.

Last night I had an incredibly sexy dream about hooking up with the leader of a tough Hasidic street gang in my old NY neighborhood. It was very Romeo & Juliet, very forbidden and hot. Hey, I may be sexually dead inside, but I ain't buried yet!

Totally awkward

So this morning after a particularly rough night of gas and writhing and screaming (the baby, not me), and just as I was bleary-eyed cooking breakfast and wondering when I should bring in the barking dog, my doorbell rang. It was the friend that I had been trying to blow off quietly, the one who told her son my son's dad was a bad guy who had abandoned us.

She said she had come by to see why I hadn't returned her calls. I've never been so put on the spot. All I could say was that I "just felt awkward". But this clearly wasn't enough - she said she didn't see what the big deal was, that I know she didn't mean it, that she'd apologized, etc. And what does one do at that point? Start attacking someone's character to their face? Tell them you want to throw nearly twenty years of friendship down the toilet? All over one accidental comment?

So I didn't know what to say. I just kept saying I feel uncomfortable now, and brought up the election and how my politics have done a complete 180 in the last couple of years and how we don't have that in common anymore, to which she unfortunately replied hers had, too. She left under the impression that we're going to hang out next week. We're not. Ugh!

I've drifted apart from friends before, but I've never been confronted to my face about it. Usually people get the hint, especially when there was an "inciting incident" like we had. It's not that I hate her or think ill of her - I just have no desire to continue this friendship, and for reasons I can't really articulate. It's just like the 8,487 men that dumped me in the past ten-fifteen years. They just didn't have any desire to see me again, period. Can't argue with that. Or maybe you can-!

Anyway, I don't know what to do, and I hate to be put in this position. I may have to send her a break up email. I loathe the idea of this. How much to reveal, how much to spare her feelings? The last time I broke up with an old friend I was downright cruel to her, just to shut the door once and for all. I don't wish to repeat that scenario.

After she left I had to hustle to clean the house before the cleaning lady showed up (I know, right? But really, I had Christmas decor scattered all over and if I didn't tidy up she wouldn't have been able to do her job). This was a new person recommended by a friend - and I think I may have solved my cleaning woes. She actually doesn't want to come down here on a regular basis because she lives too far, so said instead I can just call her whenever I need a clean (which for me might not even be every month), and only charged $80! Freakin' sweet. And now my house is clean for my Christmas party in two weeks. Huzzah.

It is always awkward sitting around while someone cleans, though. Makes me feel like a lazy, spoiled SOB. Probably didn't help that I was in fact eating Bon Bons at the time.

Comparisons & inferiority complexes

As much as I'm proud of all I've accomplished this holiday season and proud of my son and proud of my parenting (for the most part!), I have to admit the perfectionist is coming out in me. It happens from time to time. And then I start to feel like I'm just not doing enough, not good enough.

Last night I mentioned on FB that I was keeping the baby up late so he wouldn't wake me up early; another mother proudly wrote that her six month old daughter has been sleeping straight through from 8 PM to 7 AM every night after she did sleep training, and talked about how great it is to have time to herself, to get things done, etc. Suddenly having a baby who nurses to sleep every night within minutes, sleeps a good 10-11 hours every night, but always wakes to nurse four to five times during the night, didn't seem so great. And it made me think I've failed him, and myself, by not taking a better stab at sleep training. Honestly I'm happy with everything about our arrangement except the repeated waking a at night. As I've written recently it is kind of getting to me. I'm very foggy and tired most of the time. I hate to read on my birth boards about all the babies that sleep through the night. It makes me feel like a big fat failure.

Then there's the Christmas stuff on FB - all the babies with cute outfits (the only remotely festive thing Bumpus has to wear is a black t shirt with a skull in a Santa hat on it), the professional photo shoots, the amazing crafts everyone's doing. But wait - aren't I doing crafts? Yes, they've mostly revolved around candy making, which is mostly soggy peppermints with my fingerprints in them that turn to liquid the second they leave the freezer. The sugar scrubs, scented laundry detergent, and caramel sauce have yet to be actualized.

Yesterday I went to visit Bed Rest Friend in the hospital again (brought her said melty peppermints & coconut balls). I asked if anyone told her why her cervix shortened like it did, or if it was just random. She said it can be just random - but mentioned she had two markers for the condition - one, having done IVF, and two, having had surgery for pre-cancerous cells on her cervix some years ago. So hopefully that will be helpful information for someone out there.

She mentioned when she tries for a second baby that they will do a preventative cerclage at 14 weeks and she can avoid this situation entirely. I was kind of surprised she was even considering another baby...but then again, they do have several frozen embryos, and if she's pretty much guaranteed a viable pregnancy with a preventative measure against being on bed rest again, why not? Which then made me ask myself...is my old jealousy going to return if she has two awesome kids and I just have one...? I hope not. I hope like with most things since B was born, I just won't have the mental energy to focus on unimportant, petty emotions like that!

I am trying to get my event together but am really hitting some roadblocks - mainly, that because it's a holiday weekend, most of the best musicians are out of town playing at festivals, or otherwise just don't want to commit until the last minute, which of course doesn't work for me. So I may have dodged a bullet as far as hiring instructors, but now I'm screwed on the band front. Sigh.

Still, I have high hopes that I will increase my attendance by the date move, which increases my income, which allows me to relax and save money, which makes me very happy. And don't get me wrong - I'm still really enjoying the season and pretty proud of myself for all the work I've done around here; just every once in a while it feels like nothing will ever be enough.

A friend with a 21-year-old son pointed out to me on FB when I mentioned having spent hours lighting the house that when her son was little she would spend hours looking for the "perfect" tree, that everything had to be "just right", but as he grew she realized what really matters is the togetherness the holidays bring. Something to remember, huh?