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Aug 3, 2008

Maybe I Should Save For A Tummy Tuck?

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I had the fortune to get an evening away with my husband – sans children – last night. We went to the Dublin Irish Festival because Gaelic Storm was playing. The concert venue seating was already full when we got to it an hour and a half early, so we found the best standing room area behind a row of seats and waited, unwilling to give up the best chance at seeing the stage.

As expected, other people believed if they just pushed in further, they could find better spots, even though we could see there was nothing left inside. So we had to deal with a steady stream of people squeezing and pushing past us. Some were rude about it (and drunk), others were trying to be polite. My feet endured the crushing weight of a few big drunk guys on them as they shoved their way into the crowd.

Early on, one lady squirmed her way around Aaron, looked at me said, “Excuse me, mama, comin’ through!” Her eyes had drifted to my belly when she said “mama” and as soon as she passed by I turned to Aaron.

“Did you hear that? She thinks I’m pregnant!”

“No, I didn’t hear her. I’m sure it was just a mistake, since the girl next to us is pregnant.”

And I tried to think of any reason to dismiss her comment. Maybe she calls everyone mama? Maybe she saw the kid next to us, belonging to the group with the actually pregnant woman, and thought he was with us? Maybe I was standing at an awkward angle?

But then just before the concert started, people began to switch direction and come out from the center, realizing there was no where to sit or stand comfortably in there. As one group tried to get past us, a woman pointed right at me and yelled back to her friend behind her, “Be careful, let’s not squish the pregnant lady!”

Somehow, Aaron completely missed that comment, too. But I was mortified. Everyone thought I was pregnant, and pregnant enough to confirm it out loud. But I know that no amount of sucking in my stomach can help me look better because it isn’t just the muscles or fat. It’s loose skin, left over from two pregnancies.

I’m working on tightening those muscles, and I’m still working out to get rid of any excess fat, but I don’t think the skin will ever bounce back. My only solution for now is to wear Spanx whenever I don’t want to look pregnant, because they do a great job at compressing all of that loose skin and flattening my stomach again. Maybe someday I’ll save up for a tummy tuck to remove that loose skin so I don’t look like I’m 4 month away from diapers, burp cloths, and every two hour feedings.

Although if it’s true that everyone at the concert thought I was pregnant, they were all being assholes by not offering me a seat. After standing in one spot for two and a half hours, I think I might have considered sticking out my stomach a little more if it would get me a seat.

Filed Under: daily life, rant · Tagged:


Jun 17, 2008

Each Time A Door Closes…

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…another one opens, right? And hopefully it is a bigger, better door: prettier, shinier, brighter, more comfortable, makes you happier, pays better, offers more perks.

Oh, that kind of wandered off, didn’t it?

I had planned a cutesy post about a topic that I thought was important today: men’s cologne. And I was all set to write about that until my husband called me around 4:30 pm to tell me he was coming home early today.

Because he lost his job.

Dammit.

I’d like to say this came completely out of the blue, but it didn’t. When he started working for this state agency two years ago, it was a non-political agency. With our new governor (a man who has made me question if he really is a Democrat) in place, he quickly set about putting this agency under his control, allowing him to appoint a leader of the agency.

Shortly after that, people who had worked there before this change of leadership began disappearing. Some transferred or found other jobs, others were encouraged to find employment elsewhere, and for those who remained, many were reassigned to new positions.

Aaron watched as his entire department was torn down, leaving him with the jobs of those who were no longer there, along with his own responsibilities. Despite the additional work, he received no pay raise, since our lovely governor had frozen the pay of most state employees. But at least he still had a job, so we continued on with little complaint.

More people disappeared, though, and this time new people appeared, despite a state hiring freeze. These new people held positions that had never been advertised on the state’s jobs website and collected comfortable salaries. Some didn’t even seem to know how to do parts of their job. Aaron was again given new responsibilities that didn’t suit his skill set, yet also was expected to continue with most of his previous job, too.

But today it all ended. After overloading him to the point that no single person could accomplish all of those tasks in a timely manner, and giving him a useless manager who never responded to his multiple requests to meet and discuss his responsibilities, he was told his services were no longer needed. Pack up your desk, turn in your keycard, and see you again never.

We’re not in a state of panic – yet. Probably because it’s still sinking in. The paychecks will run out in mid-July, and our health insurance is good through the end of July. Then we’ll panic for sure. We’ll have the option of Cobra after that, but there’s no way we can afford it. And last I checked, gas is $4 a gallon and the job market suuuucks.

We’ll get by somehow. We both bring in a little money from writing, and his resume is sitting on several desks already. Aaron has been unhappy with his job for several months, so the job hunt actually started back in March. Hopefully this is some kind of blessing in disguise, and the ideal job will fall into his lap as a result.

Until then, I’ll be reading Megan’s eBay column carefully to learn how to make the best auction listings, and temporarily giving up my search for a Wii Fit. I’ll also try to convince my sweet, devoted husband to not bother getting me a birthday gift this Saturday, because in this case, the thought will be good enough.

This is a big setback, financially, but it’s not the end of the world. At least he won’t be under so much stress from the toxic work environment he had to deal with. Aside from having no income at the moment, things aren’t too bad: we’re healthy, we have supportive friends and family, and we have each other. I’d say that’s still better than what many have.

Filed Under: Aaron, daily life, money, rant, the J-O-B ·


May 13, 2008

Who Are The Police Protecting?

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So, let’s say your house was broken into almost two years ago, in the middle of the afternoon. A lot of stuff was taken, including some sentimental items that could never be replaced. The thief left behind a small amount of DNA, via a blood drop on the curtain that your eagle eye spotted thanks to years of watching forensic crime dramas, and the crime lab said they’d check it out.

Fast-forward five months. The DNA comes back with a match, and the police tell you they have a warrant out for the guy. When you ask for details, they tell you that he used to live nearby, but is no longer at that address. You ask if he lived in the neighborhood, but they refuse to give details, only saying he lived in the area.

The thief is caught, processed, and then because of an overcrowded prison system, given only probation for his crime, despite the fact that this would not be his first time in prison. You feel a little upset that this guy is out in public, but try to reassure yourself by saying that he probably lives nowhere close to you.

Now let’s say that in doing some internet surfing of court records last night, you come upon this guy’s record. (Not only has he robbed you, but since turning 18 has also been arrested three other times for forgery, driving without a license, and another robbery with criminal endangering.) And you find out that he didn’t just live nearby, he lived ACROSS THE STREET. As in, almost directly across the street. And that the residents of the home across the street are his family.

Knowing this new tidbit of information, do you feel that the police should have shared that the criminal lived in spitting distance of your house? Or that while he no longer lived there, his family was still living there, and now knew that you were the ones who helped get their little boy thrown in jail?

To say I’m a little shocked to find out the guy who upended our lives lived right across from us would be an understatement. I don’t understand why we weren’t allowed to know where he lived, and that his family were still living there. Shouldn’t we be told that our every move is still being watched by people close to the perpetrator?

I can now see why those neighbors have never talked to us, and why they still give us unfriendly – bordering on dirty – glares each time we drive past.

We never received a mug shot, so we still don’t know what he looks like. It’s possible that he’s still coming by to visit with his family across the street – lots of 20-something men and women come by that house all the time – and if so, he’s violating his probation order to stay at least 1000 feet away from us. But since we don’t know what he looks like, we can’t tell if any of the young men glancing across the street at us might be him. Creepy, eh?

It sucks when you don’t even feel safe in your own home.

Filed Under: big issues, daily life, rant ·


Apr 14, 2008

Will She Give The Kid A Beer, Too?

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On my morning drive to Cordy’s preschool, I was stopped at a obscenely long traffic light. I glanced over to the car beside me. There was a boy in the passenger seat – couldn’t have been older than seven or eight – and a woman I will assume is his mom was driving the car. In her hand was a cigarette, and the only ventilation was the two inch crack in the mom’s window needed to flick her ashes into the street. I saw the boy coughing, but the mom continued to talk on her Bluetooth, seemingly unconcerned.

I understand that smoking is a tough habit to break, and that some don’t want to break their habit. I also know that many smokers are smart people who comprehend the dangers of smoking, not only to themselves but to others around them. Secondhand smoke is no longer a theoretical risk – it’s been proven to cause real health problems.

But forcing your kid to sit in a smoke-filled car? Not cool. In some places, it’s considered child abuse and against the law. I don’t care how cold it is outside. Two inches from one window is not remotely close to enough ventilation. The kid was coughing – sure, he could have had a cold, but even if it was a cold, do you think the smoke was helping his lungs recover from that cold? If she’s smoking, then by default he’s smoking, too. Does he get to drink if she has a cocktail?

This is a touchy subject for me because I was that kid when I was younger. My mom didn’t smoke, but my aunts did, and they would routinely smoke in the car when we traveled. If it was warm out, they’d have the windows down, but in the winter? Two inches. And I coughed. A lot.

Turns out, I have a bit of a reaction to cigarette smoke. After being in an enclosed space with smokers for even an hour, I spend the next week in misery with all of the symptoms of the worst cold you can imagine. It’s why I always wanted to sit on the patio at the local bars in college, and why I generally avoided clubs. I don’t like feeling sick for days all because someone else wanted their nicotine fix.

There are plenty of considerate smokers out there. I have friends who smoke, and it doesn’t bother me. They are always polite, smoking outdoors and never if I’m in the car. I know other smokers who have kids, and they never smoke in the house or car because of their kids. They will go out of their way to keep their kids away from the smoke. Some quit before kids.

I couldn’t help but stare at this woman and her child as we stopped at the next light and were beside each other again. She made no effort to blow the smoke towards her two inch vent to the outside, and she didn’t seem to notice her child looked miserable. Was her desire for a cigarette so strong that she’d rather put her child’s health at risk rather than waiting the 15 minutes (at most) it would take to drop the kid off at school?

I’ll admit I’m completely and utterly biased. If you want to smoke, that is completely OK with me. Cigarettes are legal, and smoking them is legal. I don’t have a problem with it until you start affecting someone else’s health, especially a child’s. The lungs of a child are especially sensitive to the effects of secondhand smoke, and they are more vulnerable because they often have no ability to escape the smoke. And while I can simply avoid a person who is an inconsiderate smoker, a child can’t choose to go somewhere else because their parents are smoking around them.

At least give your kids the choice to smoke when they’re eighteen. Don’t decide for them before they’re even out of diapers.

Filed Under: big issues, rant · Tagged:


Mar 12, 2008

Socializing Our Girls To Be Meek, Uninteresting Women

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The other day I was at my favorite resale shop (c’mon, you think I pay full price for Gymboree?), and as I was at the back of the store, glancing through the toys, I saw a little girl toddle up to a small basketball hoop. She couldn’t have been more than 18 months, and she was enamored with this little plastic stand with the nylon hoop. She hung onto the rim, bouncing up and down with glee. It was really cute.

Her mom glanced down and, seeing her daughter putting a ball through the hoop, pulled her away, saying, “No honey, that toy isn’t for you. It’s a boy’s toy. Let’s find you a different toy.”

I had already walked past them at this point, and my head nearly snapped off as I turned to see what was going on. The little girl started to fuss and tried to go back to the basketball hoop. The mom was more forceful this time: “No, leave it alone! It’s not for you – I told you it’s a toy for boys! You can’t have it.” She picked the child up so she couldn’t get back to the toy.

An older woman then turned to her as the little girl started to cry, reaching out for the toy she desired. “What’s she trying to play with?”

“Oh, mom, she’s trying to play with that hoop over there. I told her it’s not a toy for her.”

The grandmother made cooing noises as she smiled and stroked the cheek of the little girl. “Honey, that’s a boy toy. Let’s find you a pretty doll, OK? You’ll like a little doll to play with.” The girl’s mom nodded and they walked further down the aisle to find a doll, all while the toddler looked back over her mother’s shoulder at the basketball hoop she wanted so badly.

I didn’t want to get involved. But I nearly did because I was so angry at what I was seeing. This is where it starts. This is where the separation of the sexes begins, as little girls are told that only certain things are proper for them. (And I’m sure some little boys are also told that dolls aren’t appropriate for them. I’m not trying to suggest that boys aren’t subject to gender bias, too.)

Where does it go from here, I wonder?

That little girl won’t play sports, because sports are for boys.

She won’t be encouraged in math or science, because English and the arts are what girls should be good in.

She’ll starve herself and be obsessed with her physical appearance, because she’ll believe that is where her worth lies.

She won’t ask out that nice, shy boy she likes in school – the one who seems to like her too – because girls aren’t supposed to make the first move.

She won’t say no when the next boy she dates pressures her into sex, because she feels that she can’t say no to him because he’s male.

She may go to college, but will pick an easy major and look to get her MRS degree.

She’ll never try to run for president, because that’s a job for boys.

This may sound extreme, but it’s all possible. Why should we limit our children’s futures based on their gender? I thought that we as a society might have progressed a little further than pulling a child away from a basketball hoop and forcing a doll on her instead, but I guess not.

Currently, Cordy’s favorite toys are her rocket ship, her cars, and her building blocks. At the same time, she loves her stuffed bears and must have them in bed with her at night. Her favorite color is purple, but she says she wants to play drums or be an astronaut when she grows up. (Aw, just like mommy. I’m so proud.)

My girls will be raised to believe that they can be anything they want to be. I would never place limits on them because they happen to be female. If they were boys, I’d feel the same way. It’s time to stop thinking that women are only allotted particular interests or opportunities in life because of the double X chromosome set. We’re just as smart as men, and just as capable of performing any job a man can do. (Including careers in science, technology, government and the military.)

I’ll willingly agree that men and women are different, and sometimes behave differently due to our biology. But this doesn’t make one gender inferior to the other. Just because men tend towards more muscle mass doesn’t mean women can’t be athletes. And just because women seem to have more of a nurture instinct doesn’t mean men can’t be excellent stay at home dads.

Beyond our biology, we all have our individual strengths and weaknesses, and those strengths should be encouraged and allowed to flourish. If I had my way, I’d erase from our collective thoughts any idea of a “girl toy” or “boy toy”. They’re just toys.

If that little girl had been mine, I would have bought her that basketball hoop without a second thought. And taught her how to do a slam dunk.

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Filed Under: big issues, Cordy, rant · Tagged: