So things have been busy lately and I haven't really had the time to update...or when I do have the time to update I've been spending it painting my nails and watching Desperate Housewives. That's right. Shut up. Mostly my time is spent a)watching small children for a pittance b)doing housework c)watching my own small child or c)unconscious. Yay and woo.

We've been talking about houses and things, but really can't afford anything until I have a decent-paying full time job. Which I can't bring myself to pursue until D is at least two, or maybe until he's potty-trained. Either way, it'll be awhile. Meanwhile we're paying the roommates back rent from when we first moved, and I'm trying to sell my engagement ring to pay back my aunt, who helped us out a while back. She isn't bugging us about not paying her back yet, but I hate hate HATE owing people money, especially a chunk this large. So, if anyone is in need of a gorgeous engagement ring, call me. I love the thing but I never get to wear it anymore.

Other than that I've just been working to be happy. It seems like as soon as I let one thing go or work through another something else rears it's ugly head.
Or, you know, it's perky little brunette head.

X-posted from my other (new!) online dealio.



Things went bad.

Somehow one of the happiest times of my life was the precursor to a shitstorm of baaaad. I hear that's how it can be with weddings.

It actually started before the wedding. My grandma's cancer came back. Now, this had been in remission for so long that it was quite a shock--we moved in with my grandma when she was first diagnosed with lung cancer back in 1990, when I was five. She helped take care of my brother and I from then on, and we went everywhere with her--to her doctor's appointments, to her volunteer activities (she was a tour guide at the major theatre in the city, which she loved more than just about anything), and anywhere she wanted to share with us (which included the zoo, the carousel, tours of  where she grew up in the city, trips to other cities...basically she was a second mother and we did everything together). Her cancer went into remission before I was ten, so long ago that I can only vaguely recall what she looked like with a head scarf. But, shortly before the wedding it came back. In order to be strong enough to attend the wedding, she went for the exploratory surgery right away.

See, my grandma wanted nothing more than to see a member of her family married in a traditional white wedding. Neither of her kids came through for her on that. My parents got oops! pregnant just after high school, and had a very small, casual ceremony in my other grandma's living room. It was a source of huge contention between them, and my grandma decided that instead of attending, she needed to be in another state that day (one of the not-so-lovely things about my grandma was the sheer level of passive-aggressiveness she could achieve). I know she regretted not being there, but it still wasn't what she wanted. My aunt, her only other child, first got married to a skeez-bucket at a new-agey church with only us around, and did it in a red dress. Then she planned and planned a small but traditional wedding with her next skeez-bucket until he convinced her to elope. The white dress, the cake pans, and everything else sat around our house doing nothing for years after.

So my wedding, I actually planned with her in mind. I secured a beautiful venue, had a poofy white dress, everything. Of course, I liked what I picked, but I wanted her to be happy so badly. Having the surgery when she did meant that she was in the hospital for Christmas, but she said she didn't mind--she just wanted to be well for my wedding the following February. February came, and she helped me try on my dress, and choose a necklace to go with it. She came to my wedding shower and had a good time, although it tired her out quickly. The day of the wedding my bridesmaids and I were hanging out getting our makeup done, when my parents called. My grandma fell, and hit her head on the wood-burning stove in our basement. It wasn't horrible, but it did require a trip to the ER--my dad was taking her and didn't know if he'd be back in time. My brother was shaken up because he was the one to find her.

My dad made it to the wedding, but my grandma had to stay in the hospital. She ended up missing the whole thing, and I can't help but feel responsible since a) she was weak from the surgery which she did earlier for me and b) she was tired from my bridal shower. We had to drive back to Oklahoma from Missouri the day after the wedding, and after having lunch with my parents, we went to say goodbye to my grandma. I did my best to be happy, and chattered away describing the things she wanted to know about, assuring her that as soon as we got the pictures, I'd come share them with her--it'd be just as good as being there! But I knew as we headed toward home that this was the last time I'd see my grandma.

Just shy of a week later, my parents called from the hospital to let me speak with her as she lay dying. I remember that we spoke, but I can't recall what was said. It doesn't matter really. I'm sure we said the things you say when you know it's goodbye for the last time, things the scope of which words fail to express, but things you have to say anyway. Mostly what I remember from that phone call was my dad sobbing as he tried to talk to me. There's something so completely horrible about a parent really crying. It's as if, in that moment, there is no comfort left in the world, and you're utterly helpless.

The first call came early in the morning, while I was in my robe. There was no bringing myself to get dressed, or do anything but sit around crying, as I waited for the second call. Finally it came, and that was it. The rest of the day is a blur.

It remains the one of the most painful regrets of my life that I could not give her what she wanted, and that she never even got to see a single picture from the wedding she had looked so forward to.

I tried to pull myself together and go to work the next day, but it seemed everyone I checked out in the book store either was a grandma, or was talking about their grandma. Retail is hard enough without tearing up every five seconds, so I told my managers what happened and went home.Oddly enough, once I got home, I  couldn't stay home. I was itching to go, to do, and I was done crying (for the day at least). I grabbed my new husband and went to open a joint bank account, and then I decided that that was the day I would buy a car.

To Be Continued...

I was feeling pretty down on myself this past weekend, pretty self-loathy. So I was looking over at the health and fitness section on a message board that I like.

I was reminded of just how batshit people go when they get into weight loss mode, the obsession, the "I'm only saying this because I care" meanness to each other. And I was just lurking, not interacting!

I will not fall into that trap ever again. It is true that nearly everyone benefits from being active and I could definitely use more of that in my life, and it is true that eating a variety of foods including fruits and veggies is a good idea, which is why we like the mystery bags from the co-op.

But specifically trying to lose weight is out for me. It's not a healthy or a happy place to be, and it makes me even more miserable than I was by perpetuating negative feelings about my body, even if I'm making "progress."

 Fuck that.

*embrace the motherhood*

It's hard sometimes--sometimes I just get fed up! Tired of being needed all the damn time, tired of putting everything I'm doing on hold and getting interrupted.

So I need to take a deep breath and remember to:

*embrace the motherhood*

This baby part won't last forever, or even that long if you look at the whole picture.

This morning started out with not being able to log into my bank account, then N and I fight fight fighting. It was not resolved by the time he went to work.

On the way home I stopped by the bank to put in David's birthday check from his grandma and some cash, was told that my account was on "fraud alert" and so all I could do was deposit cash. So I deposited the cash and left it at that.

Got home, called the customer service, which is all automated, which said that my checking was overdrawn by "$888,888.63". Waded through the automated menu to get to a real person, was told that my account was being closed and to please call this number for more information. Called that number, and they told me they couldn't tell me anything other than the account was being closed as of eight am this morning, and that if I wanted more info I'd have to give it twenty-four to forty-eight hours.

Realized that I had my tax refund (which we've been counting on) direct deposited to now-closing account and called the IRS. IRS says that they will attempt to stop the direct deposit but it might not work and I won't know if it worked or not for about two weeks, which is when the money will be sent out anyway. It was supposed to be sent out by tomorrow, but my husband's back taxes from before we met needed to be taken out and so our refund was delayed and smaller. Now it is just enough to pay Kia what we owe them for the past few months, but it won't be here in time. Also, if they aren't able to stop the direct deposit the bank can hold the money for up to two weeks.

Tried and tried and tried to think of how to get the money sooner and then pay it back with the refund that will still be coming, just not soon enough. Decided (again) that payday loans are bad news no matter how desperate you are. Thought some more, talked to my mom (to see if she had any ideas). Mom said she'd help if she weren't stretched to the limit (I did NOT ask her), but that I could maybe try one of her sisters. I said no way, not unless I was completely out of ideas and desperate.

Sent my aunt an email explaining the situation and asking for help.

Luxuriating in the lovely feeling of being a spectacular failure of an adult.