wegottrouble’s blog

I think I wrote a couple of posts on here about the whole turning 40 thing before it happened. So I just wanted to update now that I'm actually there: aside from the terror of being pregnant at this age, I fucking love 40. I went out for drinks with my high school girlfriends a couple of weeks ago, and I was the first to turn 40. And I told them, seriously? I am liberated.

It's funny - even as I worry about late life childbearing, and even as I feel myself settling into the metaphorical shape of my mother (an aside - why does my mother insist on describing to me in detail every single piece of food offered at every occasion she goes to? It's like a dinner menu recitation. One of the things I fear, now that I'm turning into my mother) I feel more at ease in myself than I've been in a long while. Maybe ever. I don't know, in some way I feel like the pressure's off. I am who I am, now, and truly, I no longer give a shit if you like it or not.

40 rules. Other than the arm fat, of course. I could definitely live without the arm fat.

So get this. My cleaning person comes every other week, but is skipping next week, so has offered to make it up with a day of closet/pantry/cabinet organizing. I cannot begin to tell you how happy this makes me, as I HATE organizing shit and let's face it, when you live in a small apartment, it must be done. This housewife gig ain't half bad.

Speaking of organized, however, we are leaving for a week at the beach tomorrow, with our friends from Boston and their kids. I am so, so looking forward to it. And since we are notoriously half assed and late all the time (mostly, ok, entirely, M's fault) I decided that all packing must be done today, and all car loading done tonight. I had to stand over my husband like I'm his damn mommy reminding him of all the shit he needs because he will invariably be running back upstairs to look for his sunglasses/Blackberry/book/Yankees hat. But it's done now, we're going to just get up and go.

See ya on the flip side.

My family thinks it's hysterical that the boy knows how to hail a cab. My cousin was in a few weeks ago, and we were leaving dinner when she said, "Where should I get a cab? " And the boy, unprompted, pipes up from his stroller, "TAXI!" and holds out his little hand. Such a city kid, they say.

But today, after we colored and had breakfast, we met some friends and went to a little shady playground, where the kids ran around like crazy and went on the fwings. (MOMMY! Want to FWING!)  We then walked to the park and had a picnic lunch with a bunch of other moms and their kids. Went home, had a nap, then back out to the laundry room, then the playground with the sprinklers. M is working late tonight and then going out for a beer with the boys, so we stopped to switch the laundry then went to the diner for dinner. That's one of the things I love, by the way. Going to the diner alone with the boy. So fun. On the way back we stopped at our friends house downstairs where the boys played, then upstairs for bath and bed.

And on our second playground trip, I was watching the boy stamping in the puddles of the water park, a look of sheer joy on his face, and I thought, he doesn't have it half bad. And neither do I.

So today. I was in Duane Reade. As usual, there was one cashier and about 10 people in line. In front of me stood an old man, in front of him a middle aged woman with straggly hair and too-short black pants, at the register paying. She then walked away and was gone for a good five minutes, causing everyone on the line to start muttering under their breaths and rolling their eyes. The cashier, sensing imminent mutiny, voided out the womans purchase and started to help the old man in front of me. The woman then came back and shoved him out of the way to get to the counter. Physically elbowed him out of the way. So I said (NICELY! Nicely.) "You're too late, she already voi..." And the woman spun around and yelled at me, "OH, I'm TOO LATE, am I? NO. NO! I am NOT too late, SHE charged me the wrong price... what, what, what, you want go go in front of me? HUH?" Foaming at the mouth, the crazy bitch. So I said, "Damn, having a bad day are you. I was just pointing out that you were gone a good five minutes and the man behind you.." And she started yelling, "GO FUCK YOURSELF! JUST GO FUCK YOURSELF RIGHT NOW!!"

Damn. I'm just trying to buy diapers you psycho.

And then, today, someone stole my fucking towels out of the dryer in the laundry room. Stole.My.Towels.

See ya, Monday. Don't let the door hit you in the ass.

So the boy has been having sleep issues for months now - waking in the night and getting out of bed to come into my room, which means I have to get up and escort him back to his own bed, etc. It's been getting a little better, slowly, with only one waking..... and then last night he didn't get up at all! When he came into our room this morning, I cracked open an eye and saw it was 6:47, I was overjoyed, and jumped out of bed to hug and kiss him and shower him with praise for staying in bed. Got up, brushed my teeth, came into the living room, carrying on a running conversation with the little man. When I went  to start the coffee I glanced down at the coffee pot.

5:47. Damn.

Why do I read these journals that drive me nuts? And why do I keep having to post this same thing on every journal I ever have? I'm not sure if there are rules about copying stuff, but here, look at this womans daily schedule..... all I have to say is, I really suck.

Daily Housekeeping Schedule

We just got back from a super fabulous weekend upstate, where the sun shone, the boy spent hours playing outside with the hose, and we got to sit on the deck after he went to bed, OUTSIDE, in the actual fresh air, and damn, it was heaven. For the first time ever I was actually depressed to be driving home. We spent the whole weekend outside, and grilled lunch and dinner, and the boy woke up in the morning and headed for the door or the deck, outside, asap.

And now I'm wondering if it's time to leave the city. My life here is so, so different now, and while being here with an infant was fabulous, and my life is still easy and good, it's starting to lose its appeal. The man dreads the thought of commuting, and I hear that, but you know....our quality of life would be better in lots of ways. And worse in lots of ways, too, but I am wondering if the good will outweigh the bad. I am no longer free to enjoy the city the way I used to - wandering around, discovering out of the way restaurants, stopping in for a book signing or a latte on a whim. I often think that this new life might be better suited to living elsewhere, as much as I'd hate to give up my city. 'Cause it's not about me anymore.

Although I did get my hackles up last week while I was out in the 'burbs - I ran into a woman I went to high school with, who has had a string of bad luck, including a husband in jail and two kids on a preschool teachers salary. She asked me where I was living, and when I told her, she asked "WHY??" in a very snotty and judgemental manner, and I chose the low road and replied, "Oh, I don't know, maybe I want my kid to go to museums instead of THE MALL."

And while I'm on the subject of my adolescent behavior let me tell you about my obnoxious next door neighbor, who rang my bell and asked me to please stop slamming my front door because when she's in the bedroom and she hears it she jumps. And then proceeded to try to bully me into demonstrating what my door sounds like when it slams. I GET IT, lady. And now, each and every time I leave the apartment, I feel like not only slamming my door, but kicking hers for good measure.

I think I'm regressing

~ I try not to talk about religion in any sort of public forum, but since I only have one reader and I know I won't insult her............I do  not understand these born again Christians who interpret the Bible in what they deem literal terms. The thing that has me stewing about this is a blog I stumbled on this morning (again with the blogs that drive me nuts, I know) and this woman was talking about titheing. Now, I don't get the whole concept of titheing, really. Ok, you need donations to help run your churches, whatever. Call them that. This woman actually said that the Bible clearly states that the first 10% of your earnings belongs to God. Now, I don't pretend to be a Bible scholar, but from where I sit, God isn't really into dictating percentages.I mean, does the Bible really say that?  And what is God going to do with that money, anyway? Last time I checked, God wasn't negotiating with the general contractor to build a new church.

~ Why successful, fun, cute women keep getting sucked in by such assholes. And why the assholes have the audacity to assume they can get said women in the first place.

~ Marilyn Manson. Not only is he the most physically repulsive man I have ever laid eyes upon (and I've seen some beauties too. Usually propositioning me while wearing a natty garbage bag cape), but have you seen the clips for his new video? Having sex with his 19 year old girlfriend while it rains blood? Dude.

~ This whole Surrendered Woman thing. Have you heard of this? Let me tell you, this kind of patriarchal brainwashing will scare the pants off you. And if it doesn't, well, it should.

~ Why my kid WILL NOT SLEEP. That one's really the kicker.

What's that secret dream job you've always believed you'd be good at, but never gone for? 
Submitted by wedgeh.

Therapist. I'd be a kick ass therapist, but have always been too lazy to undertake all the school necessary.

So, hypothetically, if you were reading a blog and the writer of said blog wrote, pretty much every other post, "WA-LA", would it be wrong to send her an email and tell her the word is VOILA, GODDAMNIT? Yeah, that's what I thought.

Spent a nice (babysitter) day today with my pregnant sister-in-law, taking her to one of the giant baby emporiums around here to help her register. SO FUN. I forgot about all that cute stuff, already. Those little side snap tshirts for when they are newborn, and those soft Robeez shoes, and crib bedding..... So I finally got up the nerve to leave the Boy with a regular babysitter - one day a week, and it is HEAVEN. You know things are bad when you spend a day running to the drycleaner, buying birthday cards, and going to the grocery store leisurely and you think it's heaven.

But  I had a big birthday this year, and my man gave me a weekend trip to Jamaica (with him) and we left the Boy with June Cleaver. It was a quick trip, and took us an unholy fourteen hours to get there (I'm looking at you, suckass Air Jamaica) but it was fabulous to be able to spend some time together, and has turned out to have some positive results even above and beyond my healthy pink cheeks. The man has been working his ass off, as he always does, and I've come to the realization that I have a pretty good life thanks to that hard work. It wouldn't kill me to get off my high horse once in a while and take on more around here to make his life a little easier. Hmmm, sounds pretty '50s housewife when I type it out like that, but truly. He leaves the house at 7:30 am or earlier, gets home between 7 and 7:30 at night, plays with the Boy, gives him a bath, reads him books, and then gets on the computer and works for 2-3 more hours. Every night.

And I am such an issue-carrier, that I get all pissy when I think he's not pulling his weight around here. Meanwhile, I get to be home, which was 100% my choice, take the little man all over the city for playdates and the zoo and the botanical gardens and the playground.Sure, it's hard to be home with a 2 year old when you're used to working and being in charge of yourself. But the man was totally supportive about the weekly babysitter so I can get a break, and about having someone clean. And for some reason, that weekend away brought it home to me, and things are definitely much happier around here. Sometimes I really need to get the fuck over myself.

Tonight we went out for pizza with the Boy's best friend and his mom (who has become my good friend) and then came home and had a bath and read books and now he's sleeping peacefully and I'm drinking coffee and having a little quiet-house me time, so I thought I'd stop in here. For a change.