Just Sitting Around

Blogged on Saturday, July 5th, 2008 by Rachael. Filed in Blog365, Essays, Family, Philosophical, pregnant!.

Wow, guys. This whole working less, being a Mom more, washing the dishes more (AUGH), and so on… this is really a big lifestyle change for me.  I’ve been working Mom since husband number one left, six years ago, with a short stint as stay-at-home not-working Mom while I was pregnant with Ian.  It’s been my responsibility for almost six years to provide for my family, to keep food on the table, clothes on little backs, and gas in the car.

I can hardly get my mind around the fact that I am now in a position where I share this responsibility equally - less than equally, really, because Troy’s carrying the brunt of the work now.  I can’t work as much as I’d like to, for reasons of making a human being inside my body (ELEVEN WEEKS, guys!  ELEVEN weeks along! SQUEE!), but the small amount of time I do have to work, it’s a joy.  It was a joy anyway, but now it’s a free-of-stress joy, because it no longer rests on me to make sure the rent gets paid.

I can’t even describe how freaking wonderful it is to know that my husband loves me enough to work his butt off day after day, because it’s EXACTLY the way the I feel about him and the kids, and I did work my butt off (in fact I lost over ten pounds working last summer because of all the walking due to NOT HAVING A CAR), and just knowing that someone loves me just as much as I love them, and maybe even more, is astounding.  I can’t wrap my mind around it.  I can’t understand it.  I have no idea how I got to be this blessed.

So, really, I’m not just sitting around, as my goofy title would have you believe.  I’m washing dishes and folding laundry and taking kids on trips to the grocery store and the park.  I’m taking care of my pregnant self by taking it easy, and I’m working some.  And I’m desperately hoping that I never take any of this for granted.

Walking 8.6 Miles In His Shoes

Blogged on Saturday, June 28th, 2008 by Rachael. Filed in Blog365, Essays, Philosophical.

Since Tuesday this week, the first day of Troy’s new job, I’ve been taking him to work every day (we have just the one car), and I’ve also been picking him UP every night (at ONE IN THE MORNING, AUUUGH), because we didn’t have the county transit taxi set up yet for his schedule.

Thursday, I wasn’t supposed to have to pick him up any more, because I’d set up the schedule with the transit people.  I called after 5pm that day to confirm the ride, like you’re supposed to, and found out that had been schedule for 2:20am instead of somewhere closer to, I don’t know, ONE IN THE MORNING.  Obviously, hanging around the workplace for over an hour past shift time is frowned upon, which we found out by accident when I mistakenly picked him up the first night at half past one (hahaha, haha, whoops); and because it was too late to reschedule the driver, I had to cancel it and pick him up again.

By this point in the week, boy howdy was I dragging.  But this story isn’t about me (which is WEIRD, right??), it’s about Troy. The next day, I called and the dispatcher apologized, telling me that the person who’d put in the time when I originally set up the schedule had just put in the wrong hour.  We both laughed and I was relieved that there was a good reason for the mixup.  She said I didn’t need to call later that day and confirm the ride, since it was already set up.  “Great!” I said to her.  “It’s all set!” I said to Troy.

That was Friday’s ride, which was last night.

Throughout the day yesterday, I had THE WORST headache. It was the migraine-y kind, the kind that puts you off food and liquids and sitting and lying down and just generally existing.  I got the kids fed (I ate too, although it was hard to keep it down, ugh), they played, and then they went to bed.  I went to bed too, planning to sleep several hours to get rid of my gigantic headache, then when Troy got back I’d get up and we could hang out while he wound down from his day.  It was THE PERFECT PLAN.

I woke up at 1:40-something, and thought, Good, he’ll be home soon! So I went back to sleep.

I woke up again, suddenly, at 2:23am.  The house was quiet, and he was not home.  I started to freak out, but stopped myself.  Maybe his ride had just gotten mis-scheduled again.  I resolved to wait at least a few minutes, but as I woke up more and more, I just couldn’t.  I called the number for the transit system, and waited on hold for almost fifteen minutes, growing more and more apprehensive.  I hung up, freaked out a little more, then dialed again.  By this time I was waiting by the glass front door, looking outside into the rainy dark with my robe clutched around me, hoping he would appear in the yard soon.  I waited another fifteen minutes on hold, then the dispatcher told me that No, Ma’am, that ride was canceled.

CANCELED?! So my husband has been sitting outside in the rain for AN HOUR AND A HALF? ARRRGHHH!!11!1 YOU STUPID FUCKING PEOPLE, AUUUGH! Although I didn’t actually say that to her, I just thanked her in a quivery voice and hung up.

We don’t have cell phones at the moment, since that was an expense that quickly became optional when our income became less than what was necessary.  I quickly sat down at my computer and Googled his workplace, since I couldn’t remember where I’d put their phone number.  I called them, and their machine politely answered; nobody was available to take calls during the off-hours.

DAMMIT.

Now I was getting really worried.  It’s safe to drive downtown where his factory is, but it sure as hell is not safe to walk that road at night; and if his ride hadn’t shown up, and I hadn’t shown up, I knew he wasn’t going to wait around.  He’s resourceful at the very least, and he’s lived downtown in Detroit before and walked those streets at night, and I knew he wouldn’t hesitate to come home on foot.  So I jumped in the car, trying not to cry because tears don’t help, and drove downtown slower than normal, checking the roadsides and sidewalks the whole way.  I pulled into the factory parking lot, having not seen him all the way in.  A third shift worker was outside having a smoke, and I asked him if he’d seen a second shift guy hanging around.  “That blond guy? He was here earlier,” and he shrugged.  Was he still there? Probably not.  Did he walk somewhere? He didn’t know.

So I drove back up to my home that was eerily empty of husband, slowly again, checking the sides of the road as painstakingly as I could.  When I got back inside, I called the police to ask if they’d picked anyone up.  “No Ma’am, we haven’t picked up nobody walking,” the officer said politely, and I thanked him in my perpetually-shaky voice.

Now all I could do was wait.  I googled ‘How long does it take to walk eight miles’, and came up with some overly enthusiastic number of 15 minutes per mile.  It was close to 4:30am, and maybe - if he had waited until about 2am and then started walking - he could be home soon.  I snuggled up on the couch with a blanket, pillows, and a still-achy head.  I took one of his dirty shirts and tucked it next to me, so I could smell him.  I can’t explain how afraid I was at that point, not really knowing where he was - knowing he would be walking home if he possibly could be, but afraid that something may have happened in the dark and the rain.

What do I do if he’s not here when I wake up, kept running through my head.

I tried to sleep, but every noise woke me, startled, and had me running to the door to check outside.  Stupid cats and raccoons.  At 5:30, a different noise woke me - it sounded like steps on the stairs, then someone fumbled at the lock.  I jumped off the couch and grabbed the door open, and there he was, soaking wet, swaying a little, balanced against the door frame.  “I’m home,” he said, and I buried my face in his neck and cried.

It is 8.6 miles down the freeway from our house to his factory, and he walked every mile in the rain, hoping that I was still asleep so that I was not worried.  8.6 miles in three and a half hours, on the road I did NOT check.  My husband is the strongest, most determined, most amazing man I know.  I’m sure you’re not surprised I let him sleep in.  :)

My Baby Has A Job!

Blogged on Tuesday, June 24th, 2008 by Rachael. Filed in Blog365, Philosophical, Randomness.

My husband, Troy, has A JOB. It might be temporary, it may not work out, but for today - HE HAS A JOB.  :)

Praise the Lord and pass the ammunition!  I mean, pass the bag of chips, because I’ve got a lot of time to spend this evening while he’s working, BY MYSELF!  Eek!  ;)

Plurking and Twittering and Forgetting How to Write in Paragraphs

Blogged on Friday, June 20th, 2008 by Rachael. Filed in Blog365, Complaint, Linking, Randomness, pregnant!.

I think I found out what the problem is!

(What problem, you ask? HAHA. Very funny.)

It’s not because I’m pregnant - I’ve managed to blog while sick before, so being pregnant isn’t that much more of an excuse.  Okay, sometimes, but not to this extent.

It’s because I was Twittering, and in the midst of Twittering (which was mostly under control, really), I discovered Plurk… and there went my brain. There went my ability to construct blog posts, because now when I have computer time (when I am not working) and any energy at all for socializing or writing, I am saying things like:

caffeinated*elf is eating a slice of pound cake as a snack.
caffeinated*elf is back! in black! Okay, only my pants are black.
caffeinated*elf feels like sneezing. Hates this kind of weather.
caffeinated*elf is devouring the last of the pound cake. OM NOM NOM.

You see? YOU SEE?! There is no end to the things I will talk about inanely, yet not blog about them. Okay, so I seem to only be plurking about what I am eating, or wearing, or how much I happen to be sneezing or nauseated at the moment. Wow, am I the epitome of boring and ridiculous.

Plurking took my brain, and it won’t give it back.  Let this be a lesson to you, kids - if you want to keep your ability to communicate via paragraphical constructions, STOP THE PLURKING NOW!  Or end up like me, tired, disoriented, eating all the pound cake in the house, and talking about herself in the third person.

Rachael is going to go cry that all the cake is gone.

Whoops. Heh.

Blogged on Monday, June 16th, 2008 by Rachael. Filed in Blog365, Contradictory, Linking, Randomness, pregnant!.

Um. So. Where have I been, anyway?!

Is ‘PREGNANT’ a good enough excuse for not posting? …No? Well crap.

I have been doing a lot, really I have, and occasionally I have plenty of time to blog. Then I sit here, right here with this ‘Write’ tab open and I can’t think of ANYTHING to write. Nothing at all. It’s ridiculous and insane and I hate it, and also I always forget that I have been trying to keep a list of post ideas in my little red notebook, and I just now remembered it, and can you see now why it’s nearly impossible for me to keep track of anything. Right.

What was I talking abou - oh, never mind.

So the kids are done with school for the summer, and we have made a rather momentous decision regarding their education. We are going to be homeschooling them again. I know this is NOT a decision to take lightly, and it does not NECESSARILY reflect on the overall academic quality of the school district we are in (although that is certainly part of it); but that is an entire post unto itself, and provided I can actually REMEMBER to write about it, I will. And I ought to remember, because it is so extremely important to me. My kids are precious and wonderful and strong and intelligent and they deserve the best education and social structure that I can give them, and we are willing to make the sacrifices necessary to make that happen for them.

Also, Father’s Day was yesterday, and I made homemade fettucine alfredo with chicken, and if I could have died and gone to heaven as a proper reaction to its deliciousness, I would have. But then I couldn’t blog about it later, and all you poor people would suffer as a result. Poor you! Don’t worry, I’m still here!

Coming soon: photo proof that I DID, indeed, cut my hair! Also, a pregnancy post over at This Mommy Gig! (I posted one last week too and forgot to link it, haha I’m stupid, here’s the link: Pregnant Update: Seven Weeks and change)

Heat Exhaustion + Pregnant = DO NOT WANT.

Blogged on Tuesday, June 3rd, 2008 by Rachael. Filed in Blog365, Emo, Health, pregnant!.

I didn’t mean to leave you all hanging after that short-hair-or-not post, but after a busy and fun weekend, I ended up REALLY sick.

Our a/c is still out of commission (we’re in a waiting list now to have it looked at), and yesterday it was pretty humid and the heat was fairly high. It wasn’t really much hotter than it normally is at this time of year, but it was hitting me particularly hard; I just assumed it was the pregnancy slowing me down. I’ve always been horribly uncomfortable in the humidity while I’m with child anyway.

Throughout the day, I drank lots of cold water, sat on my butt or laid down for the most part, stayed away from my hot computer as much as possible, and tried to rest. My skin got hotter and hotter and by dinner time, I was convinced I must have a fever. Now, before you ask me why I didn’t just call my doctor, it’s because I DON’T HAVE ONE yet. My case worker is swamped and her attention span can only be caught by what’s screaming in her direction, and in order to get my insurance turned back on I have had to leave numerous messages, culminating with a message on her supervisor’s voicemail, which FINALLY resulted in her telling me to come in and fill out a buttload of more paperwork. Whatever, as long as it gets me and the baby taken care of - I’ll fill out any damn sheaf of papers you need.

Back to yesterday - I took my temperature, and was dismayed to see it registering normally. Stupid pregnancy hormones, I thought, making me feel feverish when I’m not! We had a couple of frozen pizzas on hand, and Troy fixed those for dinner, since neither of us felt like doing anything more than that. I ate three pieces before collapsing on my bed once again, feeling extremely not well. My head had been hurting on and off all day, my skin was hotter than ever, and my eyes hurt. It was like I was trying to think through fuzz.

As soon as the kids were in bed, Troy came in, leaned over me, and said gently that he was pretty sure I had symptoms of heat exhaustion and dehydration, and that I should be drinking electrolytes and sitting in a cool bath. That was when I realized I hadn’t been sweating all day, even though everyone else was. He started sponging me down with a cool washcloth, which felt like ice on the skin of my back even though it was almost room temperature, and after he made me promise to sit carefully in the bathtub in tepid water, he went to the store for juice and off-brand Pedialyte.

Last year around this time, I had my first experience with heat exhaustion. I grew up without air conditioning of any kind, so I’m not sure why it bothers me now; but I was digging about in piles of junk that we were sorting through to throw out or keep, before we moved here, and I suddenly got dizzy and incapable of doing anything other than lying down and trying not to pass out. However, since I’m all optimistic (and quite possibly stupid sometimes), I TOTALLY forgot about that. Durr. Once you’ve had it, you’re susceptible, and I’m already in an easier-to-compromise position right now.

Today I’m somewhat better, but I slept. And slept. And slept. And drank my cranberry juice/electrolyte cocktail over ice, and slept some more. My headache went completely away as soon as I started drinking the first glass, and the majority of the muscle aches that had been plaguing me since LAST time it got hot (aHA!) went away as well. I’m really lucky not to have gotten to the puking stage - Troy caught it in time.

I think from now on, I’m keeping electrolytes in the fridge at all times. Here’s to being NOT dehydrated.

Oh, and when I finally wash my hair (don’t hate on me, standing up is HARD, yo!), I’ll take a photo so you can see what I did to it. Deal?