Tuesday, November 11, 2008
Once Upon a Time...
I've been bummed out lately.
Life is going fine, Lo learned how to say "ho ho ho, merry christmas" yesterday, she's wearing her skull and crossbones (arghh) baby legs, sneaking into my bed to sleep, normal stuff.
Tee and I are getting along famously, I'm still resisting the relationship thing though. We got the infamous "So are you guys back together?" this weekend, followed by a long, painful, unsuccessful attempt to pretend like I didn't hear the question. Tee allowed me to answer, to which I gave a "no." But, he requested a X-mas list so he can't be too heartbroken.
Because the elections cleaned my clock, I'm going to tell a story instead of talking about the huge disappointment I feel about CALIFORNIA. Fuckers.
Once upon a time I had a baby named Lola. Because I was still a new mom and money was pretty tight, I decided to go back to work after two weeks of paid maternity leave instead of the four (1/2 unpaid) offered. Due to working for my brother-in-law, I had the perk of taking my baby with me. Initially I told my family co-workers that I would come in to help out for a few hours a day until I felt like I could handle full-force work and full-force momming.
Of course, in my chair and visible to all as the Office Queen Bee once again, the work piled up, people came by with questions they had to wait two freaking weeks (ex-que-say moi!) to ask me, and work came crashing down on my head.
This isn't to say Lola was neglected, no, she was situated on my chest, strapped to it by a length of stretchy orange material, either snoozing peacefully or drinking delicious mom-milk.
This went on for two weeks, still bleeding, not sleeping, crying because I couldn't fit into my favorite pants... One day, I'm meeting my parents, my siblings and my brother in law's family for a Mexican birthday dinner, running late, Lo is screaming her tiny fucking head off and I decide to be a good Samaritan.
Noticing the squad that always sits in the same parking lot, trying to catch people who disregard the change in speed from 45 to 30, I see a car coming the opposite way, and coming fast.
"Ho, ho," thought my sleep-deprived brain, "I'm going to save this poor sucka!" So I flashed my brights his way and felt pretty smug doing it. Mother Etta, saving the world's unwitting speeders from certain ticketage...
And immediately said "oh shit," once I realized the car behind the speeder was also a squad, who was currently whipping the wide, imperial nose of his Crown Vic in a quick U-turn. You know how cops follow you a bit? I think they're probably trained to do that specifically to make us sweat, let the asshole driver stew a little bit...
Sweating I was, along with sleep-deprived, late and stressed with sides of screaming child, hard-as-rock breastfeeding boobs, insufficient iron levels (always a bad idea for me) and I did it. I cried. I started before I even got pulled over, a few tears slipping out which I angerly rubbed away. No, I will NOT be that woman! I WILL NOT be the "crier."
By the time the officer got to my door, I was full-out sobbing, apologizing for sobbing, trying to explain that I was so tired and in the meantime Lo was still screaming. The officer said he understood, he just wanted to make sure everything was ok, was everything ok?
"Nooooo" sob sob sob, "I'm so fucking tired, this baby hates me, I hate my job and I want Mexican food"
He nodded a bit, asked me if I would be ok to drive home (yes) and practically fled. You know when cars stop for pedestrians in crosswalks, and the pedestrian "fake runs?" That was the cop, only instead of walking with the same speed but making it look like a run, he was running but trying to make it look like a walk.
Moral of the story: stay home and enjoy your baby as long as you possibly can, boredom is better than temporary insanity!