There's something almost narcotic about being a new parent, even the second time around. It isn't just the blissful, bleary-eyed, wide-awake exaustion, or the clean sweet scent of "baby". It's knowing that this tiny precious person is depending on you for her every need, whether incosequential or life-and-death, and that for the next 18 years and longer- for the rest of your lives, that will stay unchanging. The needs themselves will change; the particular acrobatics and tightrope-walking required will adapt, but that singularity of "need"- that urgency of purpose- will remain. You are a parent. And somewhere in that immense ocean, the dirty laundry on the floor and the finances that are still hideous after 9 months of fixing and replanning- they just don't matter. Under the potentially crushing responsibility of guiding this new life you've created, you are free. All you do is look at her minute perfection, and bliss washes over you leaving only a smile in its wake, and life is good.
Wow, who would have thought it- I found someone I loath more and respect less than George W. Bush. Even worse? The person's somewhat related to me. If anyone hasn't guessed yet, I am of course referring to my m-i-l. Here I am, happily going along in my little Ebay bliss cocoon, enjoying having the hubbby back from his trip and the munchkin behaving again, getting ready to have a baby, and here comes my [too many expletives to include] mother-in-law-shaped needle. Her latest? Since she works with my mom, the office wasn't going to let them both be off work when I have the baby, and my mom was going to get the time off. (I really could care less if the Drexel whore gets the time off- I wasn't too keen on her being at the hospital to begin with, and I don't want her watching my son while I'm in labor.) Drexie's solution? She complains that my mom's been missing so much work that it's making her job harder. (Background: mom's missed 6 days in as many months, 1/3 of them from getting sick from the m-i-l while training. She was out sick tuesday. It was bad, and I'll spare the details.) This from the woman who spends 95% of her time at work talking to various lovers and scheduling what are technically illegal haircuts. The result is that now if mom misses another day, she's fired. Including taking off when I have the baby.
I should have known something was up when the bitch talked to Tom this morning to find out when we'd have to go to the hospital, because it sounded like she was planning to take off, and she'd already said she couldn't. Not that it'll do her any good. Unless I hear something convincing (ie, slightly more reliable than god speaking directly to me) that she didn't really complain, she won't have to worry about watching my son or meeting my daughter. My mom and I may have our rocky patches, but... Well, the point should be clear enough.
PS- Nick, you're a brat and a jinx. Why'd you have to make that premonition crack?
Ebay is like crack- seriously addictive. I put 5 pieces up for auction as the beginning of an attempt for closet space. Once I got into the rhythm of writing the descriptions, it was hard to stop. I literally felt like I could happily list all 108 pieces at once (yes, I have that much junk to get rid of- probably more). The only thing that really stopped me was the bill I would have run up listing if none of it sold.
Having now had my 5 pieces listed for a few days, I've gotten sucked into another facet of Ebay-itis. I find myself loggin into my account every few hours to see if there's been any action on my pieces. So far, I've had 1 question, 3 pieces have watchers (my most expensive item has 6!), and just a few hours ago I got my first bid. The best part? The bid's on my most expensive listing, and when I looked at the bidder's feedback, it's all raving about how fast he pays and that good stuff. Later on tonight I'm going to box it up and get it ready to go. Probably jumping the gun, but since I'm giving birth tuesday at the latest, and the auction closes just after midnight monday morning, I figure it's a worthwhile precaution. Hell, I might even throw in a thank-you note.
I had the most wonderful dream last night- one of those that you wake up feeling rested and refreshed, and oh-so-glad that you remembered it. No, I didn't dream I was at a spa or on vacation or anything like that. I dreamed I had a fight with my mother-in-law. She and her best friend were for some reason sitting in my living room, and the m-i-l started complaining about my son. I absolutely went off. I don't remember the exact phrasings, but I basically told her that she was no longer welcome to ever set foot in my house, talk to or see my son, and if she didn't get out that minute I was calling the police to have her removed. She argued until I picked up the phone and began looking for the number for the police station (it didn't seem like enough of an emergency to use 911- hey, even in a dream, I know there are bigger emergencies than ridding my house of an m-i-l infestation), and then she started bawling and left. The whole time her best friend just sat there shaking her head. The only thing she did was agree that I was right. After the m-i-l left, we sat there talking about her.
I think that the dream shifted then, because the next thing I remember was Tom and I standing in the kitchen talking. I was telling him about what I had said and that I had kicked his mom out of our house, never to return. His response? "That's fine, I don't care."
Needless to say, I suspect that all aspects of my dream went better than they would in my waking life, but Wow! did it feel good to say exactly what I wanted to that woman. Even better was watching her best friend sitting there agreeing with me, and then Tom siding with me too. A few more dreams like this and I might even be able to start spending time with her on a regular basis. Then again, why?
I feel strangely peaceful. Not that the level of peace in and of itself is odd, but just that with everything going on right now in the world and in my life, I would expect to feel more unsettled. Oh well, probably better to just enjoy it than dwell or try to analyze the feeling to death.
OK, I've been staring at the page now for 15 minutes trying to figure out how to say what I want to without analyzing, and it's not happening. So, on with a small analysis.
I talked to my boss a couple days ago to tell her next week will be my last one with the company. She took it really well, made me promise to let her know when I have the baby and all those minor details (like a name, since we still haven't decided). She said if I ever wanted a recommendation, just let her know, and she'll miss working with me. All in all, it feels like a good break- much better than when I left CC.
Since quitting my job means I won't be needing anyone to watch Will for a while, I'm eliminating the m-i-l factor completely for a couple weeks. She's watching him tonight since we're celebrating our anniversary early, and I think tuesday (my last day of work). After that, I don't have to put up with her for a while. I'm still figuring out what the new ground rules will be once I have the baby, but there will be new rules. I'm not putting up with her like this again.
(In case you can't tell from the slightly raised levels of bitterness, she managed to piss me off yet again, badly enough that I vented a lot to Tom about it, but that's a whole other entry for when I'm no longer feeling peaceful.)
The bittersweet aspect of quitting is that I'm 99.999% sure I'll be going back to work full-time (or a lot closer to full-time). I'm not worried about finding a job- I've been getting offers from several companies trying to get me to hire on after I have the baby. I am kinda bummed that I won't get to stay home with her all the time, but that's the same way it was with Will. I need to look into baby-sitting options, but I'm actually looking forward to that. I don't want Theresa watching my kids. I can see a very large fight looming over this one, but at this point, I'm ready for it.
Tom's leaving early tuesday morning for Pennsylvania for 2 weeks. He'll be out of town over our anniversary, and get back a week before I'm induced. I think I should feel upset or nervous, but honestly, I just feel kinda relieved. I know I'm getting bitchier the closer I get to delivering. It's not every day, but it is often enough that it bugs me. With Tom away, I won't be getting pissy about little shit like laundry on the floor. I'm not nervous that I'll go into labor before he gets back- I'll still be right at 2 weeks before my official due date. Besides, if it happens, I'll deal. Yeah, right.
I've even got 2 goals to accomplish while Tom's in PA.
1: Clean the entire house.
2: Finish my second novel. I'm taking a break from editting the first one for now. The second one's been getting into my head a lot lately, so I'm going to try to write it. It'll be a nice break from the sheer agony (not to mention ego-shattering of epic proportions) of editting. Hey, I wrote my first novel in a month, why not my second in 2 weeks? And as a bonus, I've already got an outline and a couple chapters written of this one.
OK, so maybe the goals aren't the most realistic things ever written, but then again, maybe they are. The house isn't in very bad shape right now- it just needs a little reorganizing of munchkin toys and weeding through stuff. If I can manage that, I might throw some stuff on Ebay and see how it goes.
As for the novel, I'm not going to let myself quit sleeping over it. I'll just work on it while I can, like when Will's napping or watching a show. If I don't get the whole thing done, oh well. Anything I get will be more than I have. For some reason, I haven't been writing lately. I've been editting, but I'm starting to slack off. I think I'm just getting too discouraged by the whole process, so I'm going back to writing. No big suprise that I'm getting bummed about editting. I've always had confidence in my writing. I've always turned in first drafts of papers and gotten A's (with 2 exceptions where the teachers required at least 2 drafts). I very very rarely edit. I proof-read, I spell-check. I do not tear apart an entire damn novel word by word asking "how can I make this not suck?". Oh well, I can honestly say, I think it is improving, slowly but surely. Bottom line: I am more stubborn than my writing. Eventually, I will have a novel that is worth publishing. The question is whether I'll have any hair left at that point.
So that's about it. Feeling so strangely peaceful that I had to write a novella to explain it. (Oh well, at least it's writing.) Then again, maybe I didn't need the analysis. Maybe the best explanation is that I know I've still got a lot to do, some stuff to settle, and I probably don't have as much time as I would like to get it all done. But that's OK. I'll just do what I can, and take it day by day, and enjoy the peace and relaxation.