Marriage of Convenience (or other government benefits)

This week is my wedding anniversary to the Hubbs of 3 (or 2) years, depending on who you are, is what you know. Let me explain and the mystery will be revealed.

In 2006, I was faced with yet again another layoff from Corporate America. This would be my second in a year and a half, and the third for our relationship. Trying times they were. Fast forward a few years, two severe pay cuts, serious debt, and a bankrutpcy- here we were again, back at square 1.5. I remember that sinking, and yet exciting, feeling of not knowing what to do with myself after this job was over in a few short weeks. Even though my boss at the time had promised a few of us a job, I wasn't convinced and I knew I needed a backup plan (I was right- got the pink slip two weeks later). Of course, with losing my job, I was losing benefits too and I was getting old enough to know that I really, probably shouldn't be without insurance.

Cue Bright Idea bulb: one comfortable Saturday morning, laying in bed trying not sweat over the impending uncertainty in the weeks ahead, I turned to the Hubbs and said the words that most single men really dread: I need health insurance- LET'S GET MARRIED! Still not sure which is scarier, asking your partner for insurance or the marriage thing, two very big commitments. I should probably mention that we were already engaged at this point, not actively looking to set a date so this wasn't a terrible idea.

I'm going off topic for a second here. I think it's despicable that in such a modern country as we live in, we have managed to tie something so basic as insurance coverage to Marriage. And typical in governmentese, in most states it's illegal for gays to get married, hence robbing them of insurance coverage! There are so many material benefits to Marriage that governments have managed to keep this dying institution alive and well (even if meaningless and sometimes fraud) by denying citizens basic rights, like insurance and tax benefits. Ever think why is it that married folks get a nice tax break if they file jointly? Because Flo and her office buddies in the IRS JUST NEED to take 2 hour lunch breaks instead of flipping through a second return! I don't know about you, but I'd rather my tax dollars go towards the time it takes to process another tax return than a two-hour lunch! When will we find a way to separate marriage from conveniences and basic rights?

And we're back. So Hubbs looks at me, bewildered, and says Sure, why not? Every girl's dream, he said YES! Oh wait, wasn't it supposed to be the other way around? Ah, who cares! Two weeks later, I took a half day off and there we were: me in tube spring dress, all yellow and green flower print, and a teeny bouquet Banana (that would be my friend) made for me. It was just me, Hubbs, two friends and the lady judge- perfect. No fuss.

So almost exactly one year later, the princess in me finally caved and a small (lavish) wedding was had. For most of our friends and families, this is the only wedding they know about... until now. It does feel good to be naughty...

No More Surprises

I came across this essay by Kevin Guilfoile in Heather Armstrong's book Things I Learned About My Dad, in which Kevin lists the ten things he's learned about fatherhood. My favorite on his list? #2: Don't Ask the Doctor for the Sex of Your Baby.

It sounds a bit antiquated, and frankly, I was even SHOCKED to see it in print by someone else- a father, to boot! He goes on to say that there's really nothing left to say on birth announcements once the sex is known and the mystery is gone.

It brings back memories when I was preggers with Josh and we decided to keep the sex of the baby a mystery. OH MY GOD! You'd think I was working some covert CIA mission to exploit koala bears. I didn't realize keeping the surprise was so WEIRD, I mean, how could you NOT KNOW WHAT YOU'RE HAVING?? What was I thinking? I can't tell you how many smirks I got when people asked what I was having and I'd politely answer "I don't know, it's a surprise!" And then I'd get Really? But how do you know what to buy? Huh? I think they make onesies in white (I don't think either boy or girl would object to that) and I like neutrals anyway so it's not like I was just dying to fill a room with pink or blue stuff.

Our world today is littered with predictability; any surprises that come up are not usually good ones (except for maybe the occasional "stripper in a cake" routine at a 30th birthday party)... how boring. Is that as good as it gets? Some T & A popping out of a cake? That's it? I was determined to make a GOOD surprise for myself.

I saw this line somewhere and it's totally true: It's the miracle of life for a reason, not: on this day a girl (or boy) will come into my life. There's something sacred about the birth of a child and who are we to ruin Mother Nature's surprise to us. It's like finding out your husband planned this huge surprise to take you to see Britney Spears on your anniversary and he even got a babysitter! OK, yes, having a baby IS better than seeing Britney shake her thing, but getting a babysitter is just the cherry on the cake! Go Mike! The point is, that when I told Mike that I knew what his surprise was, I might as well have crushed his dreams with my bare, muscular hands (eww, what a visual). I don't know too many people who like having their surprises found out before it's time, why would you do it to Mother Nature?

I liked not knowing that on ___ day in October I was going to have a ___. There was mystical and thrilling feeling about it accompanying the Braxton-Hicks. Plus, it gave my husband an important task during delivery:

40 weeks of discomfort and swelling... $12,486

30 hours of slow, intense labor... $5 for narcotics and a glass of wine

Having your husband tell you the sex of your baby with tears in his eyes... Priceless.

Sand in My Toes

I found the secret to calming my energizer bunny (that would be Josh to all the pervs out there). Josh is a baby jacked up on battery juice in the afternoons, especially when he hasn't napped. You could almost see the excitement steaming out of his ears and jolting his limbs in every direction! I just didn't think it was possible for all that energy to fit in an 18-pound body.
But, lo and behold! Alas, I have found the secret to sanity! The golden nugget, the sacred treasure... you get my drift. On a recent trip to the beach, I spent the whole hour-long drive just dreading the inevitable scene that would follow:

1. Arrive at beach, but wait....

2. Drive car around beach 16 times to find parking spot; it turns out 27,487 other people had the same great idea for a nice beach day. who knew?

3. Stalk another mom with 4 kids, 2 strollers and a shit load of bags to her car, ask her if she's leaving and wait

4. Wait... wait... remember she had 4 kids, 2 strollers and God knows how many bags? oh, I think I even saw a dog and a bike in that mess too...

5. FINALLY! Mom-with-Shit-load-of-bags leaves parking spot. PHEW! Nope! Bastard in Mustang comes barrelling down the street hoping to steal this coveted spot.

6. Get in HONK fight with Bastard in Mustang... I WIN!

7. Now the fun really begins...

8. Josh has now realized the car has stopped: OMMMMGGG!!!

9. Hurry! Throw out the bags, fold out the stroller and quickly devise a plan to carry the beach chairs and umbrella all while driving the stroller one handed...

10. Meanwhile, entertaining a 10-month old who desperately needs a bottle and, no, he won't hold it either!

See the impending doom I was feeling in that car ride? Oh wait, this all actually happened! Silly me, I really thought I could escape it. Well, Mr. Cranky-pants-refuses-to-hold-bottle, neatly tucked into the stroller, is now throwing WORLD-CLASS FIT. I managed to walk the 4 blocks to the beach entrance, swerving a few cars along the way with the stroller, and even convinced a nasty-looking police officer to carry my beach chair for me across the street. I knew having a baby would have it's advantages! Somehow, people feel like they need to help the frazzled mom dragging the stroller, 3 bags, beach chair and umbrella. THANK YOU!

Well, I finally made it to the sand and something wonderful happened: Mr. Cranky-diapers was overcome by the sweet smell of Banana Boat air (or something. oh, who the hell cares, he was QUIET! and that's all that matters!) The power of the ocean sounds, seagull diving right for my head, the overflowing trashcans, pre-teens in thongs, boom-boxes blaring... could I possibly bottle this up and open up a can at home for future meltdowns? Josh was so calm the rest of the day- I really can't figure out what did it. He napped in the salty breeze, played with mama's nose (he's into pointing at things these days), and occasionally got his toes or fingers in the sand. The latter activity which prompted a squeal, yes, a SQUEAL from his cute little squishy face, followed by a big hug on mama's leg... close enough.

I Heart My Blankie

I spent the afternoon watching Josh fluff his cowboy blanket 57 times. Yes, I counted. Only because I wanted to see how long it would take for him to get bored or topple over, whichever occured first. So he toppled over and continued to fluff his blanket another 19 times, all the while babbling to the bears on the mobile above him. I think the conversation went something like this:

Josh: "Goo bababab dada dee. Huh? Oda? Atai shes. huh? hmmmmmm. adbadbada. yeah"

Bears: (cue the crickets...)

Josh: "Agha! Agha! Gad Gad gag. adai adai. baboo da. tetena" (waves blanket furiously at Bears)

Bears: (still hear the crickets?)

Josh: (grabs Lamy- the talking horse he loves- and bites Lamy's face!) Agma! Agma!

Since Lamy is now in the picture, the blanket has been tucked under his arm just in case Lamy doesn't taste good anymore. And as he rolls over for his nap, he pulls the blanket up to his mouth and chewing on the tag, falls asleep. He's so cute.

Rice Cereal Fashion

Flaky, cereal-y you are
Ground up dry
Waiting for you
Mushy in my milk bowl
The hand drumming louder
Hurry, mushy must be right
Yumminess surrounds you
Splat!
Speckled on the shirt
Touch mushy, smear
You are all I want to wear

Urban Horse Rides

I came home the other day to find two horses on my neighbor's front lawn. I should mention that I don't live on a farm or even remotely close to a rural area. Why there were horses on my street was yet to be determined.

It turns out the town was trying to give the kiddies a taste of the good life: horseback riding on the soccer field. Sadly for some of these kids, that's the only time they will get to even see a live horse. Well, this horse fiasco got me thinking about my own kid and the priveleges he will have.
We just recently got back from a trip out to Ithaca (you know, from "Ithaca is Gorges" t-shirts?). It also happens to be the home of Cornell U- where naturally my son will attend school in approximately 17 years (no pressure, Josh, really). Interesting enough, what I thought was a very simple family vacation, hiking in the woods, evidently, is a big freakin' deal! Some people who saw my photographs on Facebook commented "oh, Ithaca..." (insert snooty facial expression here).

AS IF!

Now, my husband and I certainly live within our means. We have a decent small home in what I like to call urban suburbia- you know, where part of the town is sketchy and the other part doesn't even look like it belongs. Yeah, that's where we live. We don't make alot of money, but it's enought to keep the mortgagers happy and food in the fridge. We work as hard as we can to provide for our son and give him a great life.

Naturally, if you live or even vacation in a certain area, you're automatically lumped in a group that could either be positive or negative lumping, depending on the audience. What I am grappling with is WHY DON'T SOME PEOPLE WANT MORE FOR THEIR KIDS?

I've heard things like, "Oh, Johnny doesn't come from a wealthy family so he didn't do this or that and got himself into trouble." oh yeah? But what about these success stories that you hear in the news every so often about people who came from nothing, went on to college and are DOING SOMETHING WITH THEMSELVES! That didn't require trust funds and partying with senators.

To my urban suburban neighbors, GET YOUR MIND OUT OF THE POORHOUSE and everything else will follow. YES! YOU CAN!! Getting Junior on a horse to give him a taste of the good life is not going to cut it.

What happens when the well runs dry?

I have now somewhat successfully (and not so successfully, at times) nursed my 10-month-old boob-loving son (oh no she didn't!) now since he was first born. From the way he now feeds, you'd think he came out just hootin' and hollerin' for that boob. Yeah, well, that couldn't be further from the truth.

Baby Josh rushed into this world, just couldn't wait to come out. He came out so fast, I didn't think the midwive had barely enough time to catch him. Maybe it was a combination of me wanting the parasite consuming my body out as quickly as possible, and the lack of room in my womb for his little tootsies to stretch out without knocking into a vital organ. Anyway, there he was, a whole five days early! All squishy-arms- flailing-what-the-hell-just-happened-to-me-baby!

Of course I was going to breastfeed, how else was I supposed to feed him!?! Now, I'm not saying there's anything wrong with bottle feeding and I was totally open to failure. There's one HUGE misconception about breastfeeding- that it's natural. Now, when I hear that, I think of the Geico Cavemen commercials: "SO Easy a caveman could do it!" Really? Now what suit in the ad copy workroom came up with that load of crap? I empathize with the pissed-off Caveman, especially when he seems to have adapted so well after several millions of years later, even dining out and bowling. I bet it wasn't easy for the cavewoman either, except there's no blog on that, is there? I am still holding out for discovery of a journal buried in Scandinavian ice that shares the woes of the cavewoman. Maybe she had trouble with latching her cavebaby or had a secret remedy for sore nipples.

As hurried as Josh was to enter this world, he was in no rush to latch on. But, already showing off his skills for faking, he was always sure to "latch" on when the lactation consultant came around. I couldn't believe it! This kid was barely a day old!

Of course, when it was time to come home, feedings were an absolute nightmare. Sometimes I wonder what it was like for Mike (that's the Hubbs) to sit there helpless just watching this squirmy ball of screams and flailing limbs and me, balling right there with him. I remember those first few weeks being a blur of tears, sore nipples and more tears.

I think at some point Josh's voracious appetite kicked in and he realized that he'd have to quit faking it if he was going to eat his fill! So a few weeks in to this disastrous nursing escapade, Josh finally latched on! WOOOHOOO! YEEEEEHAWWW! (OK, it wasn't really all that easy and I did have some contraption help from these shield thingies).

And we both plugged right along in this breastfeeding thing until a few weeks ago- the well started to go dry. Not sure why, and frankly I don't really want to know. Working full-time and attempting to keep a semblance of my pre-baby life in existence wreaks havoc on the nursing thing. Ever try to tell your boss that you can't sit through another two minutes of this meeting because your boobs are going to burst? yeah. Or how about the time I was in a meeting with four others (thankfully, all women) and my boss looks at me and says, "You're leaking". Of course, like an idiot, I don't even know what she was referring to until I looked down and to my horror, saw that my bra and nursing pad had severely failed me. There I was in my boss' office, red-faced and milk-stained. To add insult to injury, I had to meet with a student right after (still bearing the tell-tale milk stain) and as much as I was trying to hide it, the student asked me if I had a kid and then she said, "Yeah, that happened to me all the time with my own kids." MORTIFYING!

I could finally see the light at the end of this Moo Tunnel I'd been barreling down. The strangest part of all this is that I don't even feel bad. I mean, should I? I always had this thought that if I stopped breastfeeding too soon that Josh was going to shrivel up like a raisin with lack of nutrition. It turns out Josh won't take a bottle from me, especially if I hold towards my chest. The little man looks at me with the eyebrow, "Ma, you really expect me to drink from this plastic thing when the real deal is right there? (eye roll somewhere in between- yeah, he's doing that too). Well, I figured out a way around that too and now he's just happy getting something to drink. He hasn't shriveled up yet, so it can't be that bad.

NBU- Naptime Blog Update

So, I'm quickly updating my blog (my profuse apologies if you have felt abandoned in the last few months, I thought I had a good excuse), while Josh naps. Lately, the napping thing is not really working out. Pre-toddler Josh has decided that napping is overrated. Well, glad to know at least there's a little bit of me in him too. Nonetheless, the Sandwoman manages to get a hold of my dear son for a few minutes (and sometimes, even a few hours- you go Sandwoman!) You know, only a woman could manage to get that child down that long! I think a little boob has something to do with it too (yes, for the prudes out there, I said BOOB- you got that? good). Maybe at some point, I'll share this whole nursing thing with the internet world. I may have to say BOOB again, though, so get ready.

You'll see that I've now added a photo or two and changed the look a bit (no, no boob photos, ok?). It's still very much a work in progress so please bear with me for a bit while I get my act together. I'm thinking of finishing my first quilt in the next few weeks and I'll be posting that soon. I'd also like to get started on quilt number deux. This will be very exciting since I promised myself, no quilt number two until quilt number one is finished. And I finally learned how to free-motion on trusty old Singer! Still looking for a class in North Jersey somewhere to hang out with the wise old ladies of quilting (sorry, it's just I don't know any people my age who have taken up this craft yet).

Naptime is officially over- just heard the binky hit the floor in the inevitable binky toss. Stay tuned for more to come!