Happy Birthday Peanut

Remember this guy?

4.5 lbs of perfection and excessive adorableness?  17" of skin and bones?  A head the size of a softball?

Well, somehow, inexplicably, he is now a year old.  How does time march inexorably onward without seeming to?

How did my kid become 26lbs 11oz of chub?  31" of massiveness?  85-95% for most categories?  Yeah....he is ginormous.

He army crawls like a champ.  It is the funniest thing ever.  When he is excitedly going for something he makes this squeak laugh sound that just tickles me.  He gets up on his hands and knees and rocks, goes backwards, or sits up.  He loves to stand.  He essentially says "mama" and "dada".  More mama, though.  Sometimes it is mamamamamamama.  Sometimes it is mmmmmmmma.  But it's me, alright.  He still loves baths.  And he throws temper tantrums and clamps his mouth shut tightly if he doesn't want the food offered to him.  He feeds the dog.  On purpose.  And he loves to swing doors open and shut.  If he hears the bath water running, he comes a "running".  Dirt he loves; grass, not so much.  He is nearly always happy.  And he still prefers to sleep curled up with one of us.  He is, in a word, perfection.

We didn't do a big thing for his birthday.  He got a couple new toys from us, small things from family, and we had a small cake smash.  So, I leave you with photos of my incredible, giant little man.

Happy Birthday to our little miracle.  We love you more and more every day.

Alive

I have received a couple worried comments. Understandably so. I am here. I am alive. I am... Something.

Promise a Peanut update later today. The rest... Well... I don't know right now.

And So It Goes...

I did not mean to leave you hanging.  I needed some days for me.  To figure out things.

As I surmised, when I went in to work Sunday morning, I was let go.  Their minds were made up.  Perhaps if I had been coherent enough to fight for it Thursday things would have been different, but it's okay.  I came home and crawled into bed for HOURS.

But, I got up.  Thanks to Twitter and FB pics of brooms standing on their own.  Because that was too fun to pass up.  And my broom has been standing in our kitchen for days.  I keep having to say "Excuse me" when I go around it.  Yeah, I have issues.  What of it?  The point is, I got up.

You wanna know something?  I haven't had GI pyrotechnics since Thursday.  Nada.  I feel free.  Yup, terrified.  Mortgage commitment on the house is due today.  Appraisal was done and we are on our own for the shitty electrical system, but it looks like we may just squeak through and get this house.  Now I need an income.

I filed for unemployment yesterday.  As soon as I got out of bed (at 6 am, thank you P for not wanting to sleep in when Mama is home!).  Now, my former employer is notorious for fighting the unemployment in situations like mine.  But here is the thing...I had already filed an FMLA request for the IBS.  And my doctor will attest to the fact that I was more likely than not in a manic state.  And I sought treatment as soon as I knew I was off, once they finally brought that to my attention.  So I am hoping I have a leg to stand on, as it were.  Today I am going to hang with a friend.  Get out.  But later, I will be applying for food stamps.  Because we sure as hell qualify now!

As soon as the commitment comes through I am diving full throttle into the packing and cleaning and repairing of this house.  I am going to enjoy some of this time off.  Take a long overdue trip or 2 (on the cheap), bake, cook, you name it.  And job hunt.  I am looking into a WAHM job, but until the electrical issue is resolved, that is out.  I have insurance through the end of the month.  And then I will put P on CHIP and hope for the best for us.  Generic meds will help - there are cheapies available.

I am going to watch my son learn to walk.  Take photos of him smashing a cake for his first birthday (we are not doing a big party or anything).  Learn all about landscaping and start things in our house/yard that I can do with very little monetary input.  It turns out I can potentially get money from the state toward training of some sort.  So definitely looking into that.  I can do this, you guys.

I CAN DO THIS.

Right?

Just Fer Scuzz

Because I'm feeling down and want to look at photos of my Peanut, I'm sharing some recent ones with you :-)

Someone really loves bath time.

We call this "The Face".  Make me laugh EVERY TIME.

Why do we buy him toys when scarves are his favorite form of entertainment?

Seriously, football player my ass.



Sometimes eating can be very tiring.



How the hell am I supposed to diaper this?

Or this.  He prefers to play.  I have learned to diaper him whilst on his belly.  Or side.  Etc.  Clothes, too.

Open Mouth, Insert Foot or How I Fucked Up Royally

I have talked about dealing with mental illness.  I have talked about my probably bipolar disorder.  I have even talked about how it sucks, the ups, the downs.  I have covered how the downs affect my life and ability to function.  What I've never covered is how the ups can be a bitch, too.

Now is as good a time as any.  I have been manic lately.  Not productively manic, but behaviorly manic.  I have boundary issues, issues recognizing appropriateness in situations sometimes, issues with impulse control.  Well, open mouth, insert foot.

I did something incredibly stupid.  I can own that.  No excuses other than that I really...just...didn't think.  Just did.  I sent out a joke at work.  That I shouldn't have.  And to top it off, it seems that I have repeatedly made coworkers uncomfortable in the past month or so.  Not that anyone brought that to my attention.  Oh, no.  Because that would have made sense.  So I could change my behavior.  Nope, they just held onto it.  So that when I fucked up big, which I did, they had fuel for the fire.

I got hauled into HR yesterday and basically told they had every right to fire me...which they do.  I fucked up.  I'll say it again.  I. Fucked. Up.  I can say it.  But it doesn't make me feel any better.  I left early before they could complete their corporate, involved process of firing me.  Which means Sunday I will get to drive in to be told to drive right back home.

I am a wreck.  I cried for hours yesterday.  Hours.  I have never been fired.  And really, now?  Basically, this kills the house.  Most likely.  I mean, the mortgage stuff is nearly handled, but if they find out I no longer have the job that got me the mortgage...yeah.  I don't even know.

I have failed my family.  My son.  My husband.  And the worst part is, I can't really fix it.

It's got me thinking that I should maybe be treated for bipolar after all. (Well, when I have health insurance again).  But at what cost?  Where do I go in that?  Does the me I know disappear?  Or do I just become a stabler version of me?  I have seen people change so much on meds.  Maybe not for the better.  I don't know.  But it seems obvious to me that something has to change.  And right now...I just don't know what to do.

Remember this post about wanting to just RUN?  I am so there.  Again.  I am out of control, and I recognize that.  That means little to a corporate employer.  And I didn't even know how to voice that.  But again, it matters little to them.  The last time I was this out of control was 2 years ago, right around now, when we had found out about Hubby's XXY diagnosis, and then my blocked tubes.  I was crazy.  I took leave, alternating between days of crying endlessly and days of erratic behavior.  (4 piercings and a tattoo in one week anyone?).  My body has acquired a lot of new ink lately (free, thank you very much).  My stomach is so fucked up I cannot eat (official IBS diagnosis last week), and I have lost 5 lbs in the last week alone.  Okay, that part I'm not complaining so much about.

Our friends have leapt to the challenge...sending me virtual hugs from FB and Twitter.  Move to Texas!  Move back to WI!  Time to wipe the slate clean!  Find something you love to do!  Once upon a time that was the easy thing to do.  We did it 3 years ago.  And if I step back and take a look at the big picture, it brought us P.  For which I am so grateful that words can not express how much.  How do we leave family?  Friends?  Community?

You know what sucks, guys?  I am GREAT at my job. I hate it.  I hate the company.  I hate the bullshit.  But I am good at my job.  No complaints there.  But I blew the personal interaction bit.  Blew it because I am out of control and have lost sight of how to behave.

What do we do?  How do I fix this?  How do I go in there Sunday and face people who have apparently been complaining about me and I had no idea and be normal?  Please, someone, make a decision for me, because obviously I am incapable.

PYHO: I Am Not Super Human. Or A Genius.

Interestingly, my dear friend Di posted something similar to this the other day, just when I was considering it myself.  Great minds, I tell ya.

When my sister (or others) find themselves facing an injury...they call me.  Or text me.  Or what-have-you.  Because I am accident prone, and chances are, I've done it or know what it could be.  So, should you be dealing with an unknown pain, I am your person.  A dubious honor.  At best.  But, given my prowess at self-diagnosis, perhaps an accurate honor. 

Have random ingredients in your cupboards/fridge/freezer and need ideas?  Call.  Text.  You get the idea.  Because I am the motherfucking QUEEN of random meals.  I will accept this not-as-dubious honor.  But really, I do have REAL culinary skills. I just don't have the money to practice them.  Confession: many things I try come from seeing a recipe somewhere and rigging it to be the way I want.  Or going with gut instinct.  I promise, I really don't have original ideas much.

I had a rough pregnancy.  That I loved every minute of.  But rough nonetheless.  This apparently makes me a pregnancy expert.  My smile remaining in place through 6+ months of puking, etc, apparently also makes me tough.  I have had (fertile) women tell me that if they'd gone through that sort of morning sickness that kids 2-x would never have happened.  Must be a nice luxury.  I am not tough.  No more than any other woman.  I am not super human.  I simply adored the miracle inside me, and suffering for that child, well, that's what parenthood is about, right? 

Related: being open about Infertility, rough pregnancies, making baby food, horrid breast feeding troubles...etc etc etc - these all make me an EXPERT.  I assure you.  I am not.  I am bungling through most of these things with the rest of you.  I just share.  A lot.  Sometimes a little too much. 

But, I have to say...the confidence these women (and occasionally men) show in me humbles me.  And if only they realized how often I turn to YOU, the other super human geniuses in my life for support, help, ideas...That's what makes us Super Human.  Or Genius.  Or Expert.  We ask, and let ourselves be asked.  We keep the communication open. 

So maybe I am those things.  Maybe we all are.  If we allow ourselves to be.  If we open ourselves up to BE that for someone else.  Perception is a huge thing.  We can be what people perceive, if we choose.  I think that this applies not only to the negative perceptions (fine, that's what they think I am?  I'll just be that then.), but to the positive. 

So accept the compliments.  Recognize the honor behind the questions or statements.  BE Super Human.  BE a Genius.  BE the Expert.  Be YOU.  If that's who you are.

Today I am pouring my heart out with Shel over at Things I Can't Say.

Okay, Body, You Win: Part Deux (or no deux....)

Thursday, a few hours after writing this post, I nearly passed out at work.  I was shaking like a leaf on a windy day.  I could barely stand up.  Driving was not an option.  So, with help from some friends at work, I was bustled off to the ER.  It seems that several weeks of intestinal pyrotechnics had left me rather dehydrated.  Because you know, I like spending what was a GORGEOUS day inside a hospital with IV fluids being administered.

And just because it is my life, Hubby came to be with me, and he came down with a 24 hour stomach bug.  So we left before I was really finished being liquidated because he was out in the parking lot vomiting, poor guy.  This weekend was the first time in a very long time that he and I have been in bed all night together.  It was nice :-)  Minus the feeling like shit part.

Friday I gave in and went to the doctor.  I get to poop in a "hat" and take in samples to make sure it isn't a bacterial thing.  But he agreed that it is most likely IBS.  He gave me a script for Levisin which I have yet to try.  But I'm hoping it helps with the gas n stuff.  I wil be living on bland food, no meat or dairy, etc, until I am back up to speed.  And drinking a lot of Gatorade.

In a funny twist, though, since Thursday, my pyrotechnics have stopped.  Completely.  As in we have now gone in the other direction.  Apparently my butt is boycotting the acid poo.  But not the gas.  Or bloating.  Or nausea.  It's like being pregnant all over again!  But...without the actual pregnancy.  So booooooo.

Thank you to EVERYONE for your support.  I know once stressors are lifted things should improve.  They did last time I went through this.  Mama needs a break.