Tuesday, May 19, 2009
Prepare For the Best and the Fastest Ride
May miracles never cease -- I just set up a new mail account on my Mac and it worked. Lately things aren't so easy on the easy Macintosh, so I feel like I should get a trophy or a plate of cake or something.
After I wrote the last entry, we hired our babysitter and went out for dinner (Macaroni Grill, fattening and delicious) and to a movie (Observe and Report, stupid and lame) and the baby was still alive when we got home. Dang, it's hard to trust other people. Maybe when he's older we'll feel more secure about him staying with a sitter because he'll be able to tell us if they stick him in a dark closet or feed him beers, but for now it's nervewracking. And yet it was so nervewracking that we did it again two weeks after the first time, when we went to dinner (Carl's Jr., because we ran out of time) and saw a movie (Star Trek, pretty good overall) and had a nice time. Dates are good, I guess. But how important are they, really? When we were on them all we did was talk about Gray's lack of job and the baby back at home, so it's not like it was especially unique or revitalizing or anything.
The latest is the whole preschool issue. I always laughed at waiting list preschool people, but now we're some of them because there aren't enough to go around in our area. I'm also thinking about putting him in daycare (which is more like pre-pre-school) for two mornings a week before the new baby comes (3.5 months away) and this preschool business is all anybody wants to talk about in the mother's club. It's preschool. I don't think that the place we choose will determine the course of his life like some people seem to. All I remember of mine is that we sang Frere Jacques and played in the sand, so really. How much should I stress about it?
Because I have a father who grew up during the Depression (he's 81, whereas Gray's dad is 63 for comparison), all that save and don't spend stuff was fully ingrained in me and still sticks with me even though I've tried to to be a good American and spend some money once in awhile. So what do I do the second Gray gets laid off? I start selling stuff on ebay in order to hoard money. And it's been awhile since I've done it, and I've forgotten what a pain in the ass it is. I sold six things, and only three people have paid, and two of them are foreigners (Germany, Australia) who have picked whatever random amount they felt like to pay me for shipping to their far-off land, which will probably be too low. Somebody else wants a tracking number for a $5 item, and it's just such a pain. Nobody behaves normally there. Stupid ebay.
So Facebook always reveals funny things, and the funniest thing lately is that I'm friends with an old boyfriend (who has gotten really fat) and someone wrote on his wall: "I see you got married to X. Are you guys still together?" Normally a pretty rude thing to write, right? But fitting for a (formerly, at least) wandering cheater such as he.
On pregnancy: I am really obese and uncomfortable and still have a long way to go. Nothing fits, my boobs are huge and uncomfortable, I keep worrying that my belly fat is peeking out from under my shirt, and I get winded when I climb stairs. Man, the injustice. At least I don't have gestational diabetes, but I have to drink a grose iron drink because I'm anemic. All of the babies I cook in my belly like to sap me of iron. This one did, too.
¶ 12:16 PM
After I wrote the last entry, we hired our babysitter and went out for dinner (Macaroni Grill, fattening and delicious) and to a movie (Observe and Report, stupid and lame) and the baby was still alive when we got home. Dang, it's hard to trust other people. Maybe when he's older we'll feel more secure about him staying with a sitter because he'll be able to tell us if they stick him in a dark closet or feed him beers, but for now it's nervewracking. And yet it was so nervewracking that we did it again two weeks after the first time, when we went to dinner (Carl's Jr., because we ran out of time) and saw a movie (Star Trek, pretty good overall) and had a nice time. Dates are good, I guess. But how important are they, really? When we were on them all we did was talk about Gray's lack of job and the baby back at home, so it's not like it was especially unique or revitalizing or anything.
The latest is the whole preschool issue. I always laughed at waiting list preschool people, but now we're some of them because there aren't enough to go around in our area. I'm also thinking about putting him in daycare (which is more like pre-pre-school) for two mornings a week before the new baby comes (3.5 months away) and this preschool business is all anybody wants to talk about in the mother's club. It's preschool. I don't think that the place we choose will determine the course of his life like some people seem to. All I remember of mine is that we sang Frere Jacques and played in the sand, so really. How much should I stress about it?
Because I have a father who grew up during the Depression (he's 81, whereas Gray's dad is 63 for comparison), all that save and don't spend stuff was fully ingrained in me and still sticks with me even though I've tried to to be a good American and spend some money once in awhile. So what do I do the second Gray gets laid off? I start selling stuff on ebay in order to hoard money. And it's been awhile since I've done it, and I've forgotten what a pain in the ass it is. I sold six things, and only three people have paid, and two of them are foreigners (Germany, Australia) who have picked whatever random amount they felt like to pay me for shipping to their far-off land, which will probably be too low. Somebody else wants a tracking number for a $5 item, and it's just such a pain. Nobody behaves normally there. Stupid ebay.
So Facebook always reveals funny things, and the funniest thing lately is that I'm friends with an old boyfriend (who has gotten really fat) and someone wrote on his wall: "I see you got married to X. Are you guys still together?" Normally a pretty rude thing to write, right? But fitting for a (formerly, at least) wandering cheater such as he.
On pregnancy: I am really obese and uncomfortable and still have a long way to go. Nothing fits, my boobs are huge and uncomfortable, I keep worrying that my belly fat is peeking out from under my shirt, and I get winded when I climb stairs. Man, the injustice. At least I don't have gestational diabetes, but I have to drink a grose iron drink because I'm anemic. All of the babies I cook in my belly like to sap me of iron. This one did, too.
¶ 12:16 PM
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