Mixed Reviews

Sharing a few updates…some positive, some meh.  Let me set the stage for you on the marital bliss front tonight:  I’m on our deck, paying bills and enjoying watching the storm approach, while the hubs is couch surfing, on his phone (as per usual) while the TV drones on and on in the background.  I think he’s barely said 10 words to me since he got home at 7PM.  I’m trying not to take it personally…he’s had a long day and I’m guessing he wanted to unwind in peace.  It’s ok honey, let me cook dinner and clean up, get the toddler ready for bed and walk the dog.  You just sit there!!!!!

The good update – I’m no longer jobless!  YAY!!!!  I start my new gig next Monday the 18th.  It was a long process…I had interviewed last month (6/10) and am only starting now.  Offer negotiation, drug screening, pre-employment health screening and then finally orientation!  I’m really excited about the new role, as I’m doing business intelligence work in a clinical/healthcare environment.  This is a new area to me, but am SO geeked that I will be learning about it.  I’m going to get certified in EPIC, which is the electronic health record most hospitals and healthcare organizations use, so I figure this is my insurance for being able to get a job anywhere.  Anytime.

I’m a little nervous about starting back to work, because, well, it’s been 6 fucking months since I worked.  6 months!  My friend said it seemed like yesterday….and I wish I had felt that way.  This time has really dragged on for me and has been fraught with worry, so I’m happy to get back to some type of regular routine. And paycheck.  Fer real on the paycheck.

Which brings up a not so great update.  I filed for unemployment in early June, and have yet to receive a determination.  How incredibly shitty is that?  I mean, I’m thankful that we weren’t (and aren’t) living paycheck to paycheck, but for fuck’s sake, how would anyone survive having to wait over a month to know if you’ve been approved or not?!?  It is not something that anyone could even rely on and that’s a sad fact.  Much about our country seems sad these days.

Our Seattle trip was overall good.  We had a huge fight on the trail to Poo Poo Point.  And I’m seriously not shitting you on that name.  (See what I did there?!? Ha!!!!)  It is totally legit and I think it’s fabulous that our family hiked that trail.  Mind you, we did not make it to the top of Poo Poo Point.  You could say we had a blowout of sorts.  Husband had told me we were gonna hike for “an hour or so” and after 2 solid hours of hiking, I discover we have a scant amount of food for our toddler.  Who was scream crying for more food.  I became the bad guy for wanting to turn around and not try to make it to the summit because our daughter was hungry.  We resolved our fight on the way back, and I’m glad that we did.  I’d also call it progress for me because I didn’t really give a shit in that moment if I was the bad guy.  And usually I acquiesce if I’m feeling like the bad guy.

And our relationship has been kind of meh these days.  I go back and forth with how I’m feeling.  For those of you that have been married longer (we are going on 8+ years) do you often feel this way too?  I wonder if we’re going through a difficult season, or if something has fundamentally shifted in our relationship?  I know that having our daughter was a huge adjustment (and we’re still adjusting) but does it ever get easier?  It feels hard these days, and often I’m too tired to want to put in any effort.  Like I’m schlepping through wet cement.  I think this is a woman and mom thing more so….I mean for gawd’s sake, the kid needs constant care and attention, the dog is whining to get walked, everyone has to eat, people gotta have clean clothes, then it’s time to go night night, etc.  Plus I need to work out and try to do some shit for myself….and at the end of all that, sometimes I think to myself, “Husband you want to what?  You want to fuck me?  I have no energy left for that…”

And on that note, I’m taking my tired ass to bed.

Motherhood is Fucking Lonely Sometimes

I am sitting on the couch, alone, surveying my disaster of a living room, taking a moment after putting the baby down to bed.  Eating popchips like a mad woman.  Watching episodes of Law & Order SVU because I can’t get enough of that show.

The husband is a 4 hour flight away at a funeral and I’ve been dealing with a kiddo with an ear infection since Tuesday night.  A single ear infection turned into a double ear infection.  Add to that an allergic reaction to the antibiotics we were given.  This week has sucked.  * Sigh *

Did I mention my husband was away?  I wish that the dog could somehow help me out or babysit for a few hours to give me a break, but no such luck.  Husband won’t be back until tomorrow, but he’s taking the red eye, but I don’t know how much “help” he will be when he does get home.

I love my daughter, and being a mom, but sometimes I think about my old, pre-baby life with longing.  And I get a little sad.  Because I miss some of the close friendships that I could more easily maintain pre-baby….and I feel like they’ve gotten left by the wayside.  Overrun by shitty diapers, double ear infections, dinner time, nursing, walking the dog, laundry, bath time, putting the baby to bed…the endless list of to-do’s on my plate these days.  When I do get a moment, I just want to sit in silence.  By myself.  Without anyone needing or wanting me.

I realize the irony in that last statement…how can I feel lonely when I’m almost never alone?  But I am lonely.  For some real friendships.  For my mom tribe.  For someone to tell me, “You are gonna get through this”, whatever this happens to be, knowing that they’ve walked in my shoes and can speak from experience.

My only close mom friends live far away….and it fucking sucks.  I have made a few friends here, but one of the friends I have is the “cherish every moment!” kind of mom and that shit just ain’t real.  Being real to me is admitting that some days you want to run away.  Some days you want to scream at your husband that the next time he leaves his socks laying around you are going to put them all together in a pile and burn them.  Real is not losing your shit on the dog, even though you really want to, when he shits in the house because you were too busy tending to your sick kid to take him for his normal walk.

 

No one told me that this mom business would have these kind of moments.  Such worry.  Such anxiety.  Such frustration.  Such loneliness.  I’m probably talking to no one right now.  * Sigh *

I think I’m going to bed.  Alone.

At An Impasse…

Last Sunday, the hubs had asked me if I was feeling left out because he’s doing things on Saturday with the kiddo when I’m in class.  His question led to a great conversation how I am feeling left out, how I feel that he makes times for the things that he wants to do, but doesn’t make time for us as a couple.  It was hard for me to say to him, but it’s how I’ve been feeling lately.  He was really supportive and gentle with me on Sunday.  That’s why I was so confused about tonight’s exchange.

He comes back from picking up dinner for us, and is telling me about a conversation with a supplier.  He’s going on and on, and I’m frustrated.  He was gone for an event, which was in town but required him to stay at a hotel, so I was managing the household.  And the kiddo was up for over an hour in the middle of the night.  Every.  Fucking.  Night. pretty much for weeks.  I’m exhausted, anxious, worried, and in general, not in very good spirits these days.  So as he continues to tell me about this convo, I get pissed.  And he asks me what is wrong…and I tell him, that I feel like everyone else gets billing with him but me.  And that I get what is typically left over, which is not much, if anything.

His reply to me?  I’m blaming him for everything since I’m not happy right now.  I told him that I didn’t think I was blaming him, as this has been a consistent issue for me.  He tells me, through pursed lips, that he doesn’t know what to say.  And then followed with ice cold silence for the rest of dinner.  I’m so hurt, and I’m mad, and I’m at my wits end at being ignored or iced out.

I didn’t feel like I was attacking him, I really didn’t.  I didn’t name call him – I didn’t say “YOU are not doing this…” or “YOU are not doing that…”  I used “I” language to try to express myself like an adult.  And for what?  A deflection that somehow having needs is “blame” and then feeling this ever growing sense of loneliness enveloping me.  I’m going through this HUGE life change, where I’m trying to figure out a new career/job, while not trying to take things personally about being laid off, and I don’t even feel as though my husband has my back.  I don’t feel like he understands (or cares to understand) what a big emotional deal this is for me.  It’s the first time in my life I’ve NOT worked (besides maternity leave….but that had a definitive start and end).

He checked out for the rest of the evening.  He didn’t speak to me.  In fact, he went to bed at the same time our 15 month old daughter did.  It just makes my heart hurt, because the distance between us grows each time he chooses silence over discussion.  Another wall goes up every time he chooses to not talk about the very real issues that are happening in our marriage.

I’m left here, alone, on the couch wondering, what can I really do?  What options do I have if someone doesn’t want to engage?  What can I do if someone would rather check out than recognize their partner is going through a very difficult time and they don’t even bother to try to comfort them?

We are totally at an impasse.  And I have no fucking clue what to do.  I’m heartbroken, and so tired of crying.  And tired of being alone.

It’s a dozy of a rant for me

Warning: I sound like a whining little bitch in this post. But I’m over pretending that it’s okay here, these are my issues for the last three years that are only getting worse now that the oil has “left” ND, it hasn’t the price just dropped and people had to leave. Once the demand goes back up there will be plenty of PEOPLE coming back to help you further rape the land for money.

I am SO fucking over living in Bismarck middle of fucking nowhere North Dakota. Privacy blah blah blah. No fuck this shit. I can’t say that I haven’t met and connected with some WONDERFUL people who I want to stay in touch with, and would even come back to visit, while I have lived survived here the last few years. But this weekend, was the pinnacle of what I call ND racists ignorant cock-sucking xenophobic asshats or ND-RICXA (rick-a) for short. I swear to jebus I am the last one to judge people without knowing as much as I can about a situation, THEN I’m judgymcjudgster while being a total bitch.

So even though I came out here thinking “North Dakota Nice” that’s got to be a good thing, less people so less traffic, less legislative sessions so they must have their shit together (they only meet once every 2 years while taking over the largest chunk of parking at the capitol), people are flocking there and staying thanks to the oil stuff so it must be a good area to raise kids, and housing prices are only going up so buying a house early is an investment.

Simply put, I was a naïve moron.

I’ve come to find that the people I’ve connected with the most, are the people that moved here within the last 5 years from GA, NY, CA, AZ, and CO. I have the world’s best neighbors who are beyond words wonderful, they are from here, moved around with military and came back because to call the mans family large would be an understatement. Family is super important out here, but most people don’t give a shit about anyone else’s, because they are the only people who matter. These people I love to call world’s best neighbors care about everyone, they are loving, inviting, beyond helpful, just… they are just the best people ever. Every time we even think about moving the one pro of being here is them, like what would we do being away from family AND not having them? Generally our conversation doesn’t get much farther after that.

I was informed by co-workers that “North Dakota Nice” is a form of frenemies, and sadly I’ve had to experience it as well. My first month here I tried to tap into Mary Kay meetings, since I had done it back home and thought it would be a good way to meet people outside of work. We had our “breakout” meetings and after a few minutes of business it was Sarah saying “Stacy did you ever talk to your son about that sleep over?” “Yes we just had to find a reason to ground him so he couldn’t go, we don’t want to be the bad guys”, I’m curious and say, “is his friend a bad kid or something?”, “oh no he’s wonderful but we don’t really KNOW the family” UNDERSTANDABLE… but wait, “they have only been here a few years, they aren’t FROM here, so I don’t think they are all that trustable”… that was her fucking reasoning. Her kid was in 3rd grade so he has gone to school with this friend since kindergarten, she says they’ve had play dates but they aren’t fucking from here so they must not be good enough. So instead of address the issue of their bogus mistrust they play ND NICE. Most basic example that we’ve all heard before is to say your baby is cute and turn around and tell their friend how horrid you/your baby is/looks, etc. Down to the workplace, sabotage for jobs, shit talking, etc. ALL while to your face they are nothing but wonderful, these are people I would call chicken shit back in CA but out here, this is just how most people are, which is beyond frustrating because you can’t tell who is really your friend. I used to think I was a decent judge of character but damn these people are good actors.

Less people and less traffic is still true, along with less traffic meaning people don’t pay attention to shit around them and put others’ lives in danger on the daily. I used to drive 9.7 miles to work while living in Los Angeles, it took anywhere from 20 minutes to an hour depending on when I left, and three freeway changes. Here, I live in the pseudo suburb’s and (look it up) there are only two “freeways” in the entire states, which I call glorified highways. I drive less than a mile through “town”, take a freeway for a couple of exits, down a main street and into the parking lot. I thought “my god this is going to be amazing! I’ll be so calm when getting to work, so much less stress, it only takes 15 minutes max to get to work and that’s if it’s bad snow,….” Stupid stupid STUPID me…  I can’t even make it to the onramp without a heavy case of road rage. Blinkers aren’t used, and I was used to that, you can watch people driving and pay enough attention to see when they’re going to start merging, I basically lived my entire driving life anticipating others movements. Out here, it’s fucking impossible. We drive a pickup that most people here call a car because it’s not some heavy duty diesel, which 90% of the population apparently drives. They change lanes without notice, they slow down for no reason, sometimes they take more than two blocks to fully merge, they are usually eating, they don’t seem to care about laws saying you can’t be on your phone while driving (talk or text), they will change their minds at the last second and go from off ramp to fast lane, they turn right from the left hand lane, fuck one guy STOPPED right in front of me and then screamed at me that I was going TOO fast once we got to a 2 lane stop light. I was going 20 in a 25 with only him around, fucker. I say “they” because while this is all young and dumb driver shit that some of us (cough cough me cough) have done before, this is what happens on a daily, less than 5 mile commute, to me every. Single. Fucking. Day. I’ve been rear ended 18 times in the last 3 years. EIGHTEEN TIMES. We replaced the bumper once and then said fuck it, it’s only going to happen again, not worth the deductible.

I miss the traffic in LA because it was so congested that you couldn’t do this shit. Whenever we go home to visit I drive because I feel so good to be in “real” traffic. Every day my life is on the line with these dipshits, who claim to be the best drivers ever. I don’t claim to be but I certainly don’t endanger others every fucking day. I speed like crazy most days and I own it, I have a lead foot and the quicker I get away from these shitheads the better. By the way, a speeding ticket, or any ticket for that matter is LAUGHABLE. I was going 90 to Fargo (because that’s my closest goddamn Costco) in a 65 or 70… My ticket was $40, no points, well some points but their point system is ridiculous, so it doesn’t even matter until you get a DUI (which doesn’t fucking matter to most people anyways, pay your mediocre fine and move on, no jail time, no license revoked, etc) so yea. I’ve gotten 4 speeding tickets in the last few years: my insurance never goes up, nothing shows on my driving record, and I’m out all of $65 total.  Do I speed with tickets so cheap? Absofuckinglutely.

I’m not going to get myself started on the bullshit that is the legislation here. I will say that they are the least transparent state in the entire US because of all the bullshit fraud, kickbacks, etc. They are at least 50 years behind in EVERYTHING, last session they said abortion after a heartbeat was detected was illegal, aka PLEASE SUE THE FUCK OUT OF US BECAUSE WE DON’T “recognize” Roe v Wade AFTER ALL WE HAVE A SHITTON OF MONEY, oh wait, no we don’t, we have cutbacks for state employees who are already making just over minimum wage with the worst healthcare EVER. … yea, won’t get myself started.

Don’t come out here to raise your kids, the school systems SUCK, the homeschooled kids get a better education, and there are nowhere NEAR enough private school options. Also, good luck finding daycare, I had to put my son on list for YMCA when I was 8 weeks pregnant, almost two years later, he’s STILL on a list… even after they expanded to a new building… I have one conversation burned into my mind regarding my daycare. Again, sweetest people ever but our agreement was he goes in early and comes home a little early. My daycare lady does it out of her home and has a night job as a cleaner so they HAVE to leave by a specific time, we agreed happily because we love them and she was our only hope. This woman NEVER takes a day off, she is a machine, I want to be like her when I grow up. We went on vacation, two days in her mother dies, obviously she wants/needs to take a week off. We come home, I’ve used all my vacation time on the trip with one sick day left while my husband has 90 more hours to use. We agree he will stay home with baby after the first day since I can stay home that day. He tells his boss before we even come home that he will need to miss a few days, he walks into work and while on the phone with me (baby is now sick, we have one car, needed him to come swap with me at lunch) tells his boss “I’m only here today but I can take my laptop home and work while baby is sleeping” asshole boss says “that’s fine, but why are you taking so much time?” (TWO DAYS) husband “our daycares mother died and she needs the week off” this is what is burned in my head forever: boss says “is she working for you or are you working for her?”… husband just walks away and quickly gets off the phone with me. WHAT THE FUCK DUDE… who says that? Long story short, if you don’t have family to rely on, one of you better stay home with kiddos until they are in school because everyone else here has HUGE families so when johnny is sick or daycare isn’t there everyone else just steps up and if you don’t have that system, well, sucks to be you.Especially if you’re a dude, because why doesn’t your wife just stay home? This is the reason I had no sick time left fucker, I WAS STAYING HOME when baby was sick.

We bought a house just before the bubble of housing hit so we got a decent deal, shitty land, but decent layout. Then we pumped $30k into the house to ‘finish’ it and we’re up so I can’t complain. I will say that this is what sparked my rant, we wanted to refi at year 2.5. Our credit scores are on point, we pumped equity into the home, house prices went down but still way above what we paid, not much on credit (thus the good scores) and we had full time “secured” jobs that we held for three years. All signs point to EASY approval. I met with loan guy at our credit union who gave me the all clear and set up an assessment  saying “once we get this back your husband can come in and look at your options”, GREAT. I’m white as can be, I’m mostly German, one would think I fit in since I’m a fucking chameleon at blending into a culture and community. He was hesitant but nice enough, see ND Nice for example. I get the call to come in, bring your husband. I need to point out that my husband was the one to let the assessor into the house and made a comment about my husband being native, he’s not but why does that matter… I find out later… Less than two minutes after walking in with my husband it was a “well I wish I could make this work but the loan amount just won’t be high enough” I look at the copy of the appraisal, they shorted us a full bedroom and bathroom. I point this out and he says “well, it’s up to the appraiser and that’s what they have so that’s what they go off of”, I ask what type of business they are working with, the answer, “we hold discretion on what types of loans we work with and this one won’t work, we wish you luck, and since we’re not going to issue the loan you will have to cover the fee for the assessment which is $600, would you like us to pull from your checking or send you an invoice”… I was FUMING. I contact an attorney friend of mine who looks into discrimination, he pulled some information on the demographics the bank is working with… 98% WHITE customers. Do I have a case, yes, will I win, NO. fuck my life.

This is what started my fury. I knew that we were treated as outsiders. I know that the go-to statement after anything negative is mention on the news is something along the lines of “well, you know it’s all those terrible people coming in from all over that are causing all these problems””the cold winters usually keep the riff-raft out”. These were the exact statement from a woman a cubicle over from me within the first two weeks of starting my job. From then on I tracked it, because I’m a fucking nerd with anger issues. The result up to last weeks “attack on a mother in a mall” (read that as dumbass 20-something pissing off her ‘friends’ and getting smacked around while holding her two year AS A FUCKING SHIELD)… all the comments on the article were around black trash, outsiders, etc… whatever, trash is trash but these women have been here since they were in elementary school… if your oh so wonderful community couldn’t help them “adapt” then fucking take on some blame yourself. It’s always a “they weren’t born and bred here”, “typical outside trash wrecking everything”, “We used to be the country’s best kept secret”, etc etc etc. This is pretty much in EVERY article, the news will only state if someone is a Bismarck Native if it’s a good story and lets everyone assume that something bad is only done by an “outsider”, which only enrages me more.

The results, sorry I sidetracked there, are that 97% of the “bad stuff” is perpetrated by a born and fucking bred NORTH DAKOTIANS. Do you hear that you complaining dumb-fucks of ND, NINTY-SEVEN PERCENT OF ALL THE BAD SHIT IS DONE BY YOUR “OWN PEOPLE”. Even when I shared the spreadsheet complete with links to public information on the people being born in ND (I spent entirely too much time on hospital searches for birth announcements, but I do have software at work that makes it a little easier to find people) and crickets, they blow past it saying “your information must be off”… NOPE you just don’t like being called out on your bullshit.

And I get it, you don’t want to see your “own” as bad, you want to blame some external force, but you can’t, it’s not going to work forever. At some point you have to own up that people here fucked up, not people coming here thinking (and wanting to believe) they will be accepted as decent human beings….

I know this is like a novel of a rant (about four pages now) but I’m just done with being here. I’m done with the backstabbing, I’m done with worrying that my son won’t have any real friends because their parents are fucking dickwads, I’m done feeling like a complete outcast when there is NOTHING different about me other than where I’m from and my character of not participating in the bullshit they love. I’m done feeling so much fucking hate in my heart towards people who could be decent human beings if they weren’t so xenophobic. I’m done with my son being called DARK like it’s a bad thing just because my husband is a Mexican mutt (I say mutt with love because according to ancestry he’s got a little of EVERYWHERE in him) when he’s barely even olive toned. I’m sick of feeling so down all the time because my family and most of my friends are so fucking far away and I can’t blame anyone for not wanting to visit the place that I refer to as frozen over hell. I’m done with everyone saying “come home” when I know my husband’s family is the reason we won’t. I’m done not having a Costco within a 2 hour drive. I’m done shopping at Walmart for my groceries because that’s the only semi-affordable option since the ONLY chain of grocery stores out here has the monopoly and charges VONS prices for food-4-less quality.

I’m done being at the point of my happiness resting on getting the fuck out of this place and encouraging others to do the same so they can go back to being the best kept secret for a fucking reason. Bismarck is a fucking pandora’s box, that’s why nobody wants to talk about it. I’m done trying to see the good in this place when I’m surrounded with negativity.

I’m done ranting now too. Going to get back to working out and eating better to feel good.

On a happy note, I did a HIIT run and it didn’t kill me! Going to have to keep that shit up!

Ella

I’ll attach some screen grabs from a news outlet here in Bismarck to show that I seriously can’t make this shit up. The issue was 4 “women” were pissed about a post their “friend” made and straight out attacked her while she held her toddler at the mall. One elderly gentleman stepped in and was hit as well. Everyone just walked by like “nothing to see here”. Some of the responses are people I know feel my pain in being here but the second I post something like that I’ll get the “go home then, we don’t want you”… here’s the shots (keep in mind a LOT of people deleted their comments when they were called out, I should’ve taken more sooner) screenshotsbullshitbismarck

 

I might need an alibi

U.G.L.Y. You ain’t got no alibi you ugly, eh, hey you ugly

Sorry, anytime I hear the word alibi I think of that damn song.

Here’s the thing. I am now completely convinced that my husband either has a death wish or wants me to fail miserably at this fucking 1/2 deal. I  am set to run three days a week, Tuesday and Thursday for 20-45 minutes and Saturday for mileage. For the most part, I’ve kept up that schedule with PiYo on M/W/F and weights on Sunday…then I got sick and I would go like one day of massive workouts, 2 PiYo’s, four miles, and weights… and then get sick again…

He’s been okay about Saturdays, he’d take our little guy out to the library, the zoo, lunch whatever, to get out of the house and wear the little guy down so he would nap when he got home right after eating lunch. Then it got cold and my husband turned into a little twat, “it’s too cold out to go anywhere”. Really dude, too cold for you to get into the car that is in our heated garage and go drive with the heater on as you head into a place that 9/10 will have heated underground parking. You will never actually BE outside… REALLY? Because then it is just SOOO much work to entertain our child while I’m in the other room for 1-3 hours… let’s be real. I never get more than 1.5 hours. *sigh*

This week, this week makes me question the motives, either he wants to die or he wants me to fail and I’m not totally convinced either way. I finally got my (oh TMI warning before I go too far) period (59 days late) along with a round of food poisoning.

Monday I was off work, he went to work, little guy went to day care, Mommy stayed home and got in a decent workout with a run. Progress report I’m currently at an “almost dying but still surviving” pace of 15:48, if I can keep this up and improve then I should be able to finish this damn run without the Disney Police picking my ass up at one of the mile markers. All was well and right in the world. I even got some school stuff done. yay me

Tuesday I go to work, eat my “this will help me lose some weight and be healthy” soup for lunch… I got about half way through it when I started rifling through the trash can to check the date. It didn’t taste bad, but was making my tummy upset… nope good til aug 2016.. we’re good… oh wait I feel… sick… to the bathroom. Hey check it out. PERIOD showed up… maybe that’s why I’m not feeling so hot. Doctors did say it was going to be a period from hell… yes, that’s why. back to desk. 10 minutes before I leave for the afternoon I proceed to puke at my desk. Haven’t done that since I was pregnant, THAT’s how urgent that shit was for me. go home obviously not going to run so I get child from daycare, hold it together while calling my dear sweet loving husband telling him he needs to get his ass home asap… he couldn’t hear me “text me babe”… my text “get your ass home asap, I’m dying to sit on the toilet to shit my brains out while puking into the trashcan that is lined with diapers you forgot to empty. I cooked nothing please get food for kid and you because the smell of food is only making it worse” response “ok, will do”… he worked LATER than normal. no text, no call. Get’s home, I hand him the remote for Paw Patrol dvd and head to the bathroom as I hear “What am I supposed to feed him?” from down the hall… I text… chicken nuggets, follow directions on bag, turn on fan… then I started clocking it. He would walk down the hall, open the door to our bedroom, peak into the bathroom and either say nothing, sigh heavily and walk out or ask “are you done yet?”, sigh heavily and walk out… want to guess… take a guess how many times he did that

 

I can wait

 

 

well, you’re reading this so no one is really waiting

 

18 times in ONE FUCKING HOUR. I got up, grabbed the pepto I asked him to bring me at entry #8, head downstairs with that and my Epsom salt. I took a hour long bath downstairs, why you ask, why go downstairs. Well my loves, because my husband is a grade A lazy ass… he’ll walk back and forth down the hall all goddamn day… but go downstairs, well, that’d mean he would have to go back UP the stairs. And if our kid saw him go downstairs WITHOUT going with, he’d lose his shit. (The jumper is downstairs, along with the other toys that he loves that drive me up the wall so we keep them out of sight out of mind). I was left alone to feel like an evil genius. Epsom salt and a drop or two of lavender is GREAT for cramps and nausea by the way. I start to feel better, make my little man a bottle for bed and head to my room. Husband had to put the baby to bed, so sorry dear… whatever. He comes to bed bitching and moaning that “he was really in a mood tonight”. I faked being asleep.

Wednesday – I feel BETTER. like MUCH better. cramps are no joke, but I feel good. Due to one car household he has to go home get baby and then come get me from work. I offer to call in for a pizza from a lovely artisan place in town. He agrees only after asking, “will you be joining us for dinner or hiding in the bathroom all night again?”. I KNOW RIGHT? How is he not dead or verbally assaulted lol I kid I kid, but seriously, I was boiling… if anyone is “hiding” in the bathroom it’s him and his bejewled game during a 45 minute shit after I’ve asked him to do something. Y’all know that “oh yea I’ll do that, right after I poop, I have to go to the bathroom right now” line…  gah… I say, “maybe I can get a run in tonight since I feel better” response “well if you need a reason to hide again I guess”. so of course I don’t because at that point he’s handing me my child….

get home and he’s going on and on about how “difficult” it was dealing with our son alone… oh you mean like I do when you’re out in the field five days a week? *sigh* so yea. I go to bed at 9, play on my phone and pass out at 10. He didn’t finish whatever movie or game he was playing til about 1130… Baby wakes up WIDE AWAKE wakes up at 3am… he whines, not the baby MY HUSBAND, “I need sleep, can’t you deal with him” … oh because I don’t need sleep… SURE… fucker. Background, once I’m up, I’m UP, there is no go back to sleep for me. Him, get up, piss, drink water, snack, whatever, plop back down and snoring away in less than 5 minutes… we know this about each other. And yet. I’m the one that got up with our child at 3 fucking am… tried to get him back to bed, he wasn’t having it.

Now technically Thursday – We ended up watching Elmo in Grouch-land while coloring until the husband woke up, all ten minutes before the alarm was set to go off and comes out to say “do you want to go back to sleep I can stay with him now?” … insult to injury dood…

So after all that loveliness, I might need an alibi… as I can only imagine what this weekend is going to be like with him. Anyone else have a husband that travels for work and while they are gone you want them home to help, but when they are home for more than a couple of days you want them gone because they are zero help?

Pray for me

Ella

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

Overachieving badass

No really, my ass is terrible. Also, the worst set up in the world is what I went with when I brought my treadmill home. I wanted it in my bedroom so I could be close if baby woke up AND so I would have to stare at it getting in my way EVERY. DAMN. DAY. Which is working out great. I’m on a tues/thurs/sat running schedule with mon/wed/fri for cross training and Sunday for weights (those are downstairs where I rarely hangout).

The ass part comes in with the fact that while I’m on the treadmill I have a dresser with a large mirror to my left and a full length mirror directly in front of me. I thought ahead about the full length mirror because I wanted to watch my stride… I did not, however, think of the mirror to my left…

When I look to my left all I can see is my big ‘ole ass bouncing around back there… it ain’t pretty folks… I don’t care how much my husband loves “dat ass”… It’s just bad… thus… bad-ass… I don’t care about my chicken wings, double chin, muffin top, giant belly, thighs that could light a fire… it’s my ass that bugs me. That bad damn ass…

On the overachieving side of things: training is rough. I’m struggling with keeping the “right” pace for training and constantly feel like I should be going faster. That I’m not working hard enough, even though my legs feel like they might snap underneath me. My hip hurts. I feel like I can breathe through the running so I know it’s not my endurance, but it is, if that makes any sense. But this all goes back to my childhood and feeling like I’m not enough, not doing enough, not good enough, etc.

(Physical) Therapy has gone well so far, have some new abdomen routines to work with to keep my core from falling apart essentially. Yay for baby while being incredibly overweight (not true). My left leg is indeed longer than my right but not enough to warrant any kind of “special” or “orthopedic work ups”. Although the physical therapist did say to see how I feel after running for an extended period of time, we shall see what happens in that area.

My first training timed interval run I did an 18:31 pace (per Robin’s awesome math skills) so as of right now I would be carted off the runDisney course for being too slow… let’s improve that number shall we?

So that’s where I am at right now. Will be doing my first “long” run in training this weekend. Wish me luck.

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.