Well let’s never do THAT again

 

With roughly 120 days until death, I mean our ½ marathon, I figured I should share an update. I’m not doing so hot but keep reading (please).

I did a 5k, in North Dakota, in December, because I’m a moron. Here I thought, “Hey, we could finish in less than 3.5 hours I need to get a time in so we can get in like the fun corral!” or something like that. Robin won’t admit it but she’s a Speedy Gonzales and is already doing like 10 minute miles without killing herself. So it’s me that needs to catch up. She needs consistency, I need to get my lazy ass in gear. So I –was- running two days during the week, thanks to a decent flexing schedule and day care covering my ass, with one long run on the weekend. I say long, but really it just means I go for x distance. So I was doing 20-30 minutes “training” runs and then 2-6 miles on the weekend. I can survive. I will survive… but currently at the pace I’m going the Disney police will be carting my ass off the course and I won’t be a “finisher”… their rule is if you are slower than a 16 min/mile you are too slow to finish “on time” and are therefore disqualified from finishing… here I thought just making it to the finish line is what matter but, this is Disney World and they have a park to open with money to be made… so fuck me.

As if that rule alone didn’t sting… there’s this 5k. A “Santa run” all in good fun.

It was not fun

There were Santa’s

There was running

But there was no fun from my point of view, which was more often than not, from the ground. You see, here in the godforsaken land of North Dakota, there is ice… everywhere. The organizers told us that they “did the best” they could in clearing the tracks “but this is North Dakota and we run anyways, just try to be careful”… because being “careful” while RUNNING ON ICE is totally doable right?

Look, I know I’m not graceful, I’ve accepted that. But I WAS TRYING MY BEST NOT TO FALL AND FUCK ME I FELL EVERY SINGLE FUCKING TIME.

Like when I was walking.. I was fine… but I needed to get a time in and the path was all of 5 feet wide for the 430 people on the course so if you got stuck behind someone you’re stuck until the next junction….

I swear to Jesus, I was trying to get a decent time, my 300 pound self was chugging along at a 4 mile pace and staying JUST under my heart rate range limit… and as I would try to up it… I fell… then I’d have to walk until I recovered enough to feel up to running (or until I could get past some group of people laughing and talking about dinner plans)…. Then BAM on my ass again.

On my ass

On my knee

On my elbow, that hurt the worst.

ON MY BACK landing on a fucking rock that knocked the wind out of me and totally fucking embarrassed me as people stopped to make sure I was okay… and then keep running themselves. Which I appreciated, that was really nice of them to stop but still…

And I was FINE with the falling and the pain and the fucking torture of people LEAVING while I was still running because god dammit I was going to finish this with a decent time

I could’ve cheated and finished 6 minutes faster by doing only one loop instead of two in the final section… but I have morals … fucking morals.

SO I get to the finish line ready with my little stub of a paper to hand them so they can record an “official time”… at 53:15 so like 17 minute mile… THERE are groups of people taking pictures and a load of fucking people inside the building that was hosting… but no one at the line… so I walk inside, they hand me a giant fucking candy cane and say “great job you finally made it”… brush it off Ella, they don’t know what it took to get here… brush it off…. I ask “where do I turn in my stub to submit my time, there was no one at the finish line” this baffled woman says “I think they’re done with that part you could go ask them over there”… them over there… okay.. fine… I get this three times… three fucking times… I finally find the table where they are listing out the winners for each category and say, “who do I give this to so I can get my time recorded for online listing”.

I shit you not these words are forever fucking burned into my head:

“We only had someone taking the stubs until about 42 minutes, all the real runners where done long before that and we don’t have enough staff to get everyone that was walking”

How I’m not sitting in a jail cell right now I don’t fucking know.

I was fucking crushed. I know my time wasn’t going to get me into any kind of corral but I wanted something to show SOME improvement and I couldn’t believe someone would say that. The kicker, they had over 100 volunteers… four of which were within the last 30 feet of the finish line high fiving everyone as they passed… but not enough people to have someone scribble some numbers on a piece of paper…

Had I known… my first fall was maybe ten feet from my truck and I went alone, nothing was stopping me from just getting the keys out of the bed of the truck and leaving… nothing… but me. I could’ve gone home and ran in the comfort of my perfectly heated home and only had that one fall under my belt. No embarrassment. No one knew who I was. No one cared if I left. No one was “counting on me”. Like why the fuck didn’t I just leave? Had I not fallen all those time I really do think I could’ve done a 13-14 minute mile, ice and all, fucking HILLS and all. Fun fact, the incline in different areas was so steep my fitbit thought I did 17 floors…

I keep telling myself that had I known the time wasn’t going to matter I would’ve left right then and there, because that was the one that knocked the wind out of me… I don’t think anyone would’ve talked shit for me leaving after that one…

Sigh

So I send email to my doctor the next day because oh now I can’t even fucking walk… like it hurt to stand my legs were so sore. I can’t run until, well this week now, as that was almost three weeks ago. Loads of ibuprofen and positive reading and some yoga and now I think I’m okay to get back into the groove.

But I learned my lesson, never fucking again am I running in the snow/ice with a group that can’t get their shit together enough to record EVERYONE’S TIME.

 

#rantover

ELLA

Exciting, yet Scary Times Ahead

I’ve been told my job has been impacted.  Translation:  Yer fired!  My last day with my current company will be 2/29/2016, which will be here before you know it.  I hate to admit this, but I’ve gotten really comfortable at my cushy, six-figure corporate job.  And now that the reality is starting to sink in, what kind of income loss that will be for our family, I’m starting to freak the fuck out.

What if I can’t find a job right away?  What if I can’t find anything even close to what I’m making now?  What if no one wants to hire me?  What if I bring financial ruin upon our family?  These are just some of the questions that have been flitting in out and of my thoughts these days.  I keep trying to reassure myself that things WILL be OK.  I truly believe shit does happen for a reason.

In terms of what I’m going to do in the future, I’ve stumbled upon two awesome opportunities that leave me feeling, dare I say, hopeful.  The first one is more short-term, but one that both my husband and I are really excited about.  We will be hosting 2 exchange students from Brazil from 11/8 – 12/5.  These are adult students (age 18-35) that are learning English.  I will have to take them to / from class, and thank gawd I have the flexibility with my current job to be able to do that for them.  The coolest part?  Having our daughter be around people from different countries AND building an international “family” of sorts.

The second opportunity is a continuing education class on big data / data analytics.  The job I’m currently in has really strayed from what I’ve done (and enjoyed doing).  As a result, I feel like I’ve lost some valuable brain cells by being in a role that has been less than challenging.  I’m thrilled to get back to something that I really enjoy doing, working with data, and putting it to use in a new-ish career field.  It really is thrilling to see that there is such a need for this AND these types of jobs command exceptional salaries.  More than anything though, I want something with some flexibility.  This would provide that.

The part that freaks me out is that the program costs almost $4k.  That’s a lot of money for a certificate program, but I’m hoping it will payoff in the end.  The other scary thing about this is the thought “Have I got what it takes to do this?”  The program is 10 Saturdays, which involve all-day sessions (from 8:30-5).  That’s quite a commitment my friends.  And it’s a lot of technical information that will be thrown at us in a short amount of time.  I’m so nervous, but at the same time, cannot wait for the opportunity to dig into something meaty again.  Challenge myself.  Try something new.  Learn.  Grow.  Carve a new path for myself.

Don’t get me wrong.  I’m so thankful for this current job.  It’s provided some awesome opportunities for me and my family.  I’ve had a ton of flexibility.  I was able to take 3 months off after having Vivi.  I’m truly lucky, I do realize this.

I feel like the timing of all this (exchange students, program, job ending) is all very serendipitous and that the universe is really looking out for me.  It’s gently telling me, “Hey Robin, it’s time for a course change…time to direct you to your next awesome opportunity.”  I stand tall, hyperventilating from nervousness and excitement about what the future holds for me.

Lavendar is TOO relaxing

            So I find that every now and then essential oils come up in discussions on common childhood ailments and issues. In the beginning I was totally skeptical, but then I was rocking a gassy three month old who was screaming his head off and I figured, it couldn’t get worse. I gave it a try. While I am nowhere near being “a new believer” I will say that the results are pretty damn remarkable. I’ve used oil concoctions for teething, gas, and runny noses to date. Stuff works, gotta give the EO people that. Joe was incredibly fussy the other day and I figured why not add some oil to his bath to help calm him down a bit quicker before bed. I added the oils and left Joe in the tub with my husband to watch over him and wash him off.

Within five minutes of finishing the dishes I hear “LAVENDAR IS TOO RELAXING! THERE IS CRAP IN THE TUB!!!” coming from the bathroom. Apparently Joe was relaxed enough to poop in the tub, something my husband had never experienced before. I walk in to see him holding Joe up in one arm and using the strainer we keep in the bathroom for his toys after baths to fish out the poop which, according to him was “disintegrating too quickly to catch all of it”. I was laughing too hard at the stressful issue at hand while I tell him to pull the plug and “just rinse him off, and I’ll clean up”. I have a feeling I should copyright that saying for as much as I say it with him.

My husband is a social creature and immediately took to informing a dad-to-be friend of ours of all that he has to look forward to… as though that was helpful.

*sigh*

Ella

Feeling Overwhelmed and a Shitty Wife, Mom, Employee, Person

Warning:  This post contains quite a few swear words.  I’ve fucking warned you!

In an effort to be ‘positive’ about my impending work layoff, I’ve created a countdown of work days that are left.  I need to stay 94 work days in order to receive a severance package.  94 days!!!  That seems like an eternity from now, given how I feel about everything.  Even though this work reorg had been in the works and I’d been expecting to be impacted, I’ve had very mixed emotions this week about everything.  I’m feeling totally overwhelmed, grumpy, downright bitchy and a terrible wife, mom, employee and person.  I’ve vacillated between “It’s gonna be OK!” to “What are we going to do?!” and I’ve spent a lot of time feeling completely and utterly numb.

Found out yesterday that instead of reporting to my current boss through the rest of the calendar year, the “new” manager wants to meet with us so they can get started ASAP!  Way to be a go-getter.  Funny part?  We are US based, and the new regime is in Singapore or Hong Kong or some other place in Asia….so how’s that gonna work?  It’s a 12 hour time difference.  My current boss hears this news, pitches a fit and leaves work at noon (after coming in at 10AM).  And I wanted to say to her, “Wait, why are you upset?  This doesn’t even affect you…you won’t report to them!”

And on top of that, based on the information we’re getting, the new regime thinks my coworker and I are going to automatically re-apply for our jobs.  What a huge assumption to make, considering this is the second time in less than a year, that I’ve been basically “fired” and told I could re-apply for my job…if I wanted to.  No thank you.  No fucking thank you.  Our meeting with them on Monday should be interesting, as I plan on leading that discussion with…”I have no intention of re-applying….”  I know that I’m a good worker.  I’m productive, hard working, but man this shit has been demoralizing…the message that I’m getting is that the work I’ve done isn’t valued or appreciated.  And that’s a bitter pill to swallow, considering I always try to put forth my very best effort.

I had been bitching to my husband Wednesday night at dinner that our general manager hasn’t said a word to me about being impacted.  Not a “Hey I’m sorry this happened to you” or something like that…even if it is fake!!!!  Let’s at least try to fake some compassion.  I’m sorry that I bitched about it, because yesterday he said to me, “Hey, well at least I could let you work from Hawaii in between firings…”  [Sidenote:  My husband had a work assignment in Hawaii for 3 months…and I was ‘allowed’ to work remotely for a total of weeks so I wouldn’t be caring for our 3 month old child ALL BY MYSELF.]  So fucking compassionate of him to say that right?  Asshole.

Last thing I will mention about work, before I move on to my other complaints bitches, is how fucking dumb are people if they really expect us to produce when we’ve just been told we won’t have jobs?!?  I mean, what kind of fucking fantasy land do they live in?

Husband will be traveling next week for work.  He told me he wasn’t going to travel during the month of October, but realistically, with what is going on his job, I knew that wasn’t going to be possible.  So next week he’ll be gone from Tuesday – Friday.  Let’s hope I don’t lose my shit again when he’s gone.

Husband wants to invite mother-in-law to come here to ‘help’ me when he’s gone next week, and also for next month, when he will be traveling for most of the month.  Ah Dios Mio!   My mother-in-law is a little 4 foot Hispanic woman who doesn’t speak a lick of English.  I know enough Spanish to be dangerous, but clearly there is a communication gap between us.  So let’s leave us alone together for a week with a baby!  Yes!  Because that sounds like one more thing I need to fucking deal with right now, doesn’t it?

Vivi must be going through some kind of developmental leap these days, because she’s just whiny whenever you set her down for onesinglesecond.  And honestly, it’s been so fucking annoying for me.  It’s been so bad that I’ve been telling the husband that I will walk the dog so he can get her ready because I need the break.

I was walking the dog yesterday, and had Vivi in the jogging stroller and I sprained my ankle so badly.  It was like “Bam!  Bitch goes down!” because I completely fell forward, my ankle completely twisting.

And ordinarily our cute little dog never bothers me, but he just put his paws on my leg and was talking to me like “Hey mom how are you?” And in response I yelled, “SHUT UP!  LEAVE ME ALONE!”

I even went to therapy this week, although I don’t think you can tell based on this post.  Therapy is one of my coping skills.  I believe everyone needs therapy.  I’ve been working out and eating copious amounts of peanut butter fudge too.  I’ve got mad coping skillz.

I don’t know where I’m really going with this, but I want to shout out:  “UNIVERSE CAN YOU GIVE ME A FUCKING BREAK FROM ALL THIS STRESS?  AND I’M NOT TALKING ABOUT A BROKEN BONE…LIKE A REPRIEVE FROM THIS BEFORE I END UP IN THE LOONY BIN!!!!!”

Note:  If you see no more posts from me after this, I’m probably in a room with padded walls.

Having My Best Week Ever (not true!)

You remember that VH1 show, Best Week Ever?!?  By referencing that show, does it show my age?  Ah, well, hell….let me tell you the week I’ve just had.

Last Thursday – Sunday:  We have had a trip planned to LA for several months so of course I get sick right before we fly out.  Thanks for sharing your germs from daycare kiddo!

Monday:  Work from home because I’m feeling like absolute crap and guessing my coworkers will be happy that I’m not going in to the office to “share” this with them.  Went to doctor and confirmed that I have upper respiratory infection and because I’m still nursing, there’s not really anything I can take unless I want to dry up my supply.  Bonus/plus side?  My doctor was pretty hawt.

Monday Night:  Husband tells me that his work trip, which was supposed to be a day trip on Tuesday will now last until Friday.  Wake up in the middle of the night and I feel a lump in my boob.  Don’t give it much thought as I roll over and go back to bed.

Tuesday Morning:  Work from home again because I’m still not feeling great/hacking all the time AND am pretty sure now that I’ve got my second case of mastitis.  My right boob is throbbing anytime I move around.  I’ve been trying to hand express to get the milk out, and also put moist heat on it, but not really helping much.  FML.

Tuesday at 11AM:  Jump on a “catch up call” with my coworker, boss, and director to find out that the latest reorg puts me, my coworker, my director, and about 10 other people of our 25 person team out of jobs.  I was expecting this, but there’s something to be said for hearing someone tell you “Congratulations – you’re getting laid off/let go/bye Felicia!”  We were told our last day would be 2/29/2016…a day that occurs once every four years.  What a special occasion!

Tuesday at noon:  Mastitis is confirmed with slight fever and boob that is all red and inflamed.  Call dr. to get prescription for antibiotic since I’ve been here before…thanks to my friend Angela for that suggestion because I’d have probably waited until I felt like complete and total shit, requiring a middle-of-the-night ER visit.  Add finding new daycare to the to-do list because of massive issues.

Tuesday evening:  Talk to husband and have total meltdown on the phone, complete with ugly crying, repeating “I can’t adult any more today”.

Wednesday morning:  Still at home, took a sick day because I need to rest AND because I no longer give two shits about my (soon-to-be-eliminated) job.  My idea of “relaxing”?  Cleaning up my shit sty of a house.  Relaxing fail.

Thursday:  Finally go in to work and virtually no one in our department is there.  I get it, with the happenings of this week, but we have 5 months until our last day…it’s a little early to start checking out everyone, isn’t it?  Leave work early myself to enroll daughter in new daycare.  Go to pick her up from daycare that we are about to fire and the ladies ask me, “Did you not bring any food for Viv?”  Um, what?!?  You didn’t feed her all day then and I see hardly any milk has been drank.  Oh even better – they fed her food that we didn’t authorize, and they sound unsure of what they fed her.  Let’s just hope she doesn’t have allergies to anything because I don’t know WTF she ate.   Please, please, PLEASE dear God do not let me lose my shit.  If I end up in jail, it will be a solid 24 hours before the husband can bail me out.

Friday:  Inform daycare that we are pulling our daughter from them.  Best part?  When I pick her up a few hours later after working a short day, they even fuck up packing up her supplies.  I was missing two bottles full of milk THAT THEY DIDN’T FEED HER.  Husband had to stop on his way home after his flight landed.

Friday Night:  Drank a beer and listened to my husband tell me all about his wild night during his business trip.  I got to hear how they were out until 3AM, their dinner bill for 9 people came to $1,400, they went for drinks later (that was $500 alone), and lastly, but surely not least, they ended up at a strip club.  I honestly don’t care about the strip club part, but way to regale me about your adventures when I’m stuck here, sick, and managing to (barely) hold down the fort.  I love my husband deeply but sometimes I want to slap his fucking face off.

Saturday Morning:  As I write this blog post, I’ve been awake since around 3:30AM.  I’ve fed and clothed the baby, changed 2 diapers, walked the dog, got showered, and am currently writing out my grocery list.  I went upstairs around 7AM with the baby, and the husband was still half asleep.  He’d been sleeping for about 11 hours, and when I mentioned that to him, he replies, “So?!?”  And then commented about how he was making up for my lack of sleep.  How thoughtful, huh?!?

Conclusion:  I need to buy a lottery ticket because my luck has got swing back up at some point, right?!?  It HAS to…that’s what I keep telling myself.