It's my NOOFUS!

I'm not feeling much like smiling. Had a great weekend, away for a night with the hub...baby with Nana. So I should feel like smiling, but...It was raining when I woke up this morning. Now it's pretty, but I've been inside all day. Inside, stuck inside working. Two friends had fun birthday weekends, but I couldn't celebrate with either of them. Stuck in FL, here in FL for 10 more months. Missed my workout class twice last week. It was making me feel so good, that has made me feel guilty, yucky guilt and fat rolls.

BUT, Josh has gone to pick up Noofus (the nick' of the nickname "Goofus Noofus", it sooo fits him)...and that makes me smile. I'm smiling just waiting to see his smile, his big big Noofy smile.

I think I'll smile all night. Yep, made my mind up, just gonna do it. He deserves it (plus he 'causes it).

YAY! They're here! Mommy's coming to squeeze you!
(Thank goodness for him.)

Cellophane, Mrs. Cellophane

“…Should have been my name, Mrs. Cellophane. ‘Cause you can look right through me, walk right by me and never know I’m there…” Did you catch it? That was a Chicago reference (and I might be off a little on the exact wording of the lyrics, I know, get surprised because I pride myself in knowing the RIGHT lyrics).


Well, lately this is how I feel. For a while I’ve felt “uninteresting” at best. I mean, I don’t have good work stories…heck, most people don’t even understand what I do. But at least when I was “at home” I had friends who I could hang with and feel like me and be me…even if “me” isn’t as fun as I used to be.

It’s just seemed worse since we’ve been in Florida. I’ve become even more invisible. I mean, I still communicate with people at work. They don’t seem to have forgotten about me. But my LIFE is not work. I do NOT want my LIFE to be work. So it’s hard, being here, alone, to have a “life” that’s mine. Every time I hear from my parents it’s “How’s my grandson” or “How’s school going for Josh”. It’s like I don’t exist. I’m sure no one even knows what to ask about me…and that’s fine…except, I’m still here. Living, breathing, working hard, taking care of my family, cooking every night, making lists of “to-do’s”, making sure of this and that, doing the budget, planning, thinking, dreaming…still here, didn’t vanish.

I really don’t want to make this a long pity party or anything or toot my own horn-BUT COME ON! Does no one (except Josh, he says he realizes) realize this is the HARDEST ON ME?! All the grandparents are sad about is that they can’t see their grandson whenever they want (thank God, I actually am enjoying having my family to myself). All my friends miss me…but they have other friends and coworkers they see. I’M HERE ALL BY MYSELF. Josh at least has one friend he came here with and he’s in school and meeting people everyday. I carried and birthed the baby…I moved away from my friends and family to sit at home and work by myself (which I’m grateful for, don’t get me wrong)…but NO ONE SEEMS TO CARE ABOUT ME. Now, I’m using a lot of “no one” and “everyone” and all that…my friends to tell me that they miss me and I know they understand it must be hard. But you can’t know it until you’re doing it what you really will end up feeling like.

I could say more…and I would…but well, I’m in a better place today and don’t really feel like dredging it back up. All this to say…mommy’s are pretty awesome people. You shouldn’t forget us just because are kids or husbands seem more interesting…makes me feel uninteresting, unintelligent and dull. I used to be fun. At least I thought I was. (That being said, there’s nothing more fun than talking about my baby. I sound mixed up don’t I? Ah well, one of these days, maybe I’ll be interesting in and of myself again.)

Duped!

In attempt to make some friends (I use that loosely as I already have real, true, actual and the best friends ever) here in sunny FL I have been talking more with the mommies I see at daycare, keeping an eye peeled for peeps with wee ones in our complex, and I even joined a local mommy group online.


I got so excited the other day when I was out letting Charly pee. Josh was out of town so I had the door open so I could see Connor playing on the floor inside. When I spied this female; I couldn’t tell if she was young or older or old…so I hesitate using “lady” or “woman” or “girl”. And since we’re on the subject, why is there no name for people my age. To me a “lady” is grandma’s age, a “woman” is my mom’s age and a “girl” can be anything that’s college age or younger…WHAT ABOUT ME? MissIminmy30’s. Do you have any good names for my generation?

Wow, off topic much?

Back to the point. I spied this person pushing a stroller down the sidewalk. The inner monologue went something like this:

Oh cool, another mommy! I wonder how old her baby is. Oh I hope she doesn’t turn the corner before she gets down here. I hope Charly doesn’t bark at her. What will I say? “Hi, how old is your baby? Mine is almost 9 months, he’s right inside, see him? Oh how cute he/she is…what’s his/her name? I’m Brianne, we just moved here from NC. Are you from FL?” Crap, she’s turning the corner. ::BARK BARK:: That wasn’t Charly barking…dang, that stroller has a dog in it. I don’t think we’ll be friends…

Connie

Apparently my son has a new name. His daily progress reports come home with “Connor” written on top, but then once you scan down to the bottom, in the “comments” section it says something like this:

“Connie had a great day today! We sang songs and he enjoyed painting an apple for our class apple tree. Connie needs more diapers”

Very interesting, I’m so glad to hear Connie is doing so well. Perhaps Connie’s mom will purchase diapers for us. I hope she got the message.

WDMBG?

(Where did my Breezy go?)

Well, Florida…I went to Florida. That’s not my excuse for not blogging for, oh 6 months now. I have been following some blogs, but to be honest have found it hard to care about blogging when there’s this cute little fellow attached to my leg (yes, the other day he actually ATTACHED himself to my leg with tears in his eyes because “Oh no mommy, you cannot leave the living room. Whatever will I do with you 10 feet away in the bathroom. Wear a diaper woman so thou shalt not have to pee…EVER! I WANT YOU TO STAY RIGHT HERE WITH MEEEEEEE!”-PS, my son most definitely will be taught to say “thou shalt not” because I think it would be hilarious!).

Where was I? Oh, yes, Florida. We’re here…there…eh…whatev’, you get it. I could pretend that my life has been ohsovery interesting and play “catch-up” with you. But, I’m not. I’ll give you this:
-I’ve been working-a lot
-Connor’s been growing-a lot
-Josh has been studying-a lot
-we went to the beach-was awesome!
-Josh took the BAR-it’s awesome that he’s done (waiting on results!)
-we packed up our entire lives and moved to FL-feels awesome have that over with

See, you’re caught up!

Currently, Josh has started back to school (has gotten sick and we hope it’s not the Swine Flu-so far no “oinking” sounds, so we’re probably good). Connor is in daycare (has had 2 accidents which warranted phone calls home-so far no calls today due to bumps or scrapes, so hopefully he’s good). I have started working from home! My office is set up in the 3rd bedroom (have been working away-so far I have not organized the “office”, so that’s not good). Trying to get into a routine and hopefully see some Florida sights on the weekends!

Oh please let me be tan and 30lbs lighter by the time we move back to NC. (Project, “30lb Shed” is underway-enrolled in an 8 week “Ultimate Get Fit Challenge” at the local gym. Updates will follow, since I start on Monday.)

Until next time…(kiss my grits)

Like takin' candy from a baaaby!

Seriously? Who coined that phrase? They must not have had children. The phrase is meant to mean that something is easy. HOWEVER, have you ever taken candy from a child (not a baby, babies shouldn't have candy) or (gasp) told them they couldn't have that candy right then? I've seen it in action...not with my own mind you. But I can imagine what Connor will be like. Geez, you take the bottle out of his mouth to, heaven forbid, burp him (dude, you hate the gas pains and hunger pains that come when you spit up!) and 9 times out of 10 he SCREAMS.
So, just a random Monday thought...but I think we should rethink this phrase.

Parental Units

So I could say that the reason I haven't posted in almost a month is because I'm totally wrapped up in my little man, reading the "Twilight" series, sleeping, cleaning, watching TV...and it would all be true. But, mostly I think it's because I can't bring myself to type what's been on my mind and I haven't had anything else on my mind to type.
I haven't talked much about my family here. Mostly what I discuss is about me personally. I usually try to be lighthearted and even if the subject matter is serious or scary, I'll at least make an attempt at funny.
I've never been one to keep my feelings inside. I wear my life on my sleeve and if it comes up I'm not ashamed or embarrassed to talk about it. That being said, I also don't look for people to say "oh I'm sorry, that sucks" and I also realize that there are lots of people out there that can say "seriously, your life isn't bad at all compared to what I've been through". We all have our skeletons in the closet...we probably all need therapy.
So therapy, I'm supposed to be contacting my mom's counselor and going to see her. I was also supposed to do this years ago after the first "episode". I chickened out. Not because I don't think therapy/counseling/a shrink/someone might help. It's that once the "episodes" are over, I don't want to relive them. I want to pretend they never happened. That doesn't mean I forget, no, I don't forget. I just hate the big eared elephant in the room. But I've gotten to where as long as everyone is normal the elephant tends to move into another room.
WTH am I talking about? Well, ok...I'll try to explain myself. Again, I know your life was probably much harder than mine. I did and do have 2 loving parents, took dance and piano lessons, had cool clothes and even a car when I was 16...so poor pitiful me. Doesn't mean life was perfect...doesn't mean anyone's is despite what you might think you see. Saying it, talking about it, has always helped me.
I could type a ton of stories, stories of my parents divorce, being locked in a room when I was 4 to be kept safe from the arguement, the gun, the threats, the fighting even years after the divorce, feeling trapped and unsafe in my own home, the court case, the scariness, my father teasing me about my weight, my mother's husbands...but probably being "scared" sums it all up. My "scared" now turns to anger and I try to be as respectful as possible to my parents. I am now a parent and must try hard not to have my son see what I've seen (in me or my parents).
The first "episode" I was really aware of (I'm not sure if there were any prior to this) was about 7 years ago. I'd gone to my grandma's for Sunday lunch before I had to be back to work that afternoon. My mom was no where to be found when I got there. No one knew where she was. We were worried. It was odd for her not to be there especially since her only child had come into town for lunch and was on a tight schedule to get back to work. When she finally showed up for lunch she was livid. We'd (my aunt and cousins and I) gone looking for her and this apparently was the worst thing we could have done. She was yelling and fighting with her sister and upset with me. When I decided that I wasn't going to take it anymore, after all, I didn't live with her anymore, I was 22 and self sufficient. I got up to leave. That's when I saw the switch flip for the first time. She blocked the door so I couldn't escape. She started crying and acting, for lack of a better word, crazy. She grabbed me and wouldn't let go asking "what has the devil done". Totally freaked out and in tears now myself, with my aunt and grandma begging her to let me go. They tackled her and I ran out of the house and sped away. I can still see them lying on top of her in my grandma's living room. I hid for a day and then once I finally went back to my apartment she drove up every morning for a week and left messages on my car (a 45 drive for her). I finally conceded to talk to her. She drove us to a park (my first mistake because I'd never be able to leave of my own accord, therefore I never said everything I wanted, never let out all the anger, I felt trapped again). After that day, and until this day I could probably count on one hand how many times I've spent time alone with her. I fear that "craziness". Over the next few years I'd get emails or early morning phone calls, sob stories of "what's wrong with our relationship? what has the devil done to us?"
Despite my best efforts she doesn't listen when I actually try to tell her "what's wrong". She never actually lets me talk. She does the guilt trip thing when other people seem to know more about me than she does (though the hub and I swear we've actually told her the very things she claims not to know about us). I finally realized as of late that...she doesn't ask. When she calls, she tells me all about someone else or some other anecdotal story that has minimal relevance. She simply does not ask nor does she listen when I share.
I could go on and on...seriously.
The most recent episode occurred at the end of her visit after Connor was born. She was very helpful. Cooked, cleaned, fed the baby during the night, stayed out of our way each night so just the hub the baby and I could have family time...alone. Until Thursday night she was the perfect guest (time for her to leave on Friday). I was ready for her to leave, but mainly because I wanted things back to "normal" or for us to learn our new "normal". Earlier in the week she'd asked for a picture of Connor to take with her when she'd left. She doesn't have a camera (however she did run tons of errands and could have purchased a disposable one). The hub had 3 exams he was studying for all week and me, well, I'd just had a baby 5 days prior. Thursday night I escaped =) I went out on my own to Target to get more baby bottles and even some ice cream for myself. While at Target the lights went out...pitch black people...can't see your hand in front of your face BLACK! I was already suffering from crazy hormones I didn't need this on my first time out! Lights back on whew! Then before my heart could return to its normal rhythm...lights back out! I immediately decided to start moving to the exit when LIGHTS BACK ON. So I got the bottles and went to the closest register, paid and left. Went home. No icecream, nothing...just my baby's bottles. I got home, told my story and the first thing out of her mouth was "where's my picture"? Seriously? I apologized profusely, but it was not my intent to go back out...nor the hubs (LAW SCHOOL EXAM THE NEXT DAY...HELLO?!)
The next morning, almost time for her to leave, I tried to figure out how to print some from the camera. But the hub had his computer at school (LAW EXAM...HELLO?!) and I couldn't find all the cords, printer paper etc (I seriously tried hard). I went to take Connor to his grandma so she could feed him before she left (I figured she'd want to do that and I'd take a shower)...that's when the switch flipped again. I was attacked. Not physically this time...but with words. Purposely hurtful words. "If you'd appreciated what I'd been doing here all week you'd have remembered my picture...All I wanted was a picture to show the people I work with...Can't you understand how hard this is to leave with no picture...Why are you so compassionate to everyone else but me...I knew you'd be like this, just like your father...Apparently you have a closer relationship with (friend's name) mother than with me." It was all I could do to keep myself composed. If not for holding Connor I think I would have lost it (which I did later when the hub finally came home from his exam). How was that fair to do to me...I'd had a baby a week ago. Really? I was to blame? No, it wasn't the picture (that was just the icing on the psycho cupcake) it was that she's alone, in a tiny apartment, I have a beautiful baby, a loving husband, great friends...I have what she's wanted. She's jealous, envious...but not enough to hate me-she loves me too much for that.
I could give you so much more of the story. The many more phone calls, hurtful words, my promise to make an appointment with her counselor, that we changed our locks because I was scared (she doesn't know that part)...but now things are back to "normal". I forced normal much more quickly this time because of Christmas. I needed normal (as much as I can ever have that). I needed the stress to end. I needed to be concentrating on my child, being a mom, on me for crying out loud-because when it's only been days since you've had a baby you get to be selfish and think about yourself!
So, I've put off the therapy...again. I don't want to talk about it with anyone connected to her. Do I want it "fixed"..sure. Do I think it will be "fixed"...no. Would therapy help me deal with it better, accept it more...probably. Am I lazy, stubborn (and poor?) YES.
My mother is not the only one who drives me to therapy. My dad does his share. My dad is also selfish (ie only has negative things to say about the plans the hub and I have for our family regarding his grad school...SOOO not his life!). It's really easy to see when my parents are being selfish because their reasons aren't as logical (or at all) as they make them seem.
But that, is another post entirely.
I don't want to be them. I don't want Connor to avoid being alone with me. To hate to see my number show up on the caller ID. To think that he's not good enough for me. To think that all I want is something to brag about. To feel guilty because I made him feel that way because I was being selfish. I don't want to go "crazy".

I want to be me...but those are the examples I have. Those are also the examples I have of marriage and the hub and I vow that we'll be different in our marriage (we both come from divorce and remarriage etc)...so far we're doing pretty great. I suppose I could try to see it that was as far as parenting is concerned.
That just scares me more. I don't want to mess up my precious boy.

Thanks for listening/reading to what's been on my mind. I can't promise I won't pour out some other story again in an attempt to run from therapy and do it my own way.