Know Doubt

Lately I've been having some doubts. I know, crazy, huh? Me! Doubts! As if! I've been voted Person Most Likely to Unhesitatingly Make a Decision by several coworkers (and friends, and family members, and total strangers...). But with so much uncertainty around the upcoming privatization of my company, recent troubles on the home front, and basic out-of-control stress crying jags I've been experiencing, I don't think adding pregnancy stress and hormone fluctuations to the mix would be smart.

Of course, you may argue, when is getting pregnant ever smart? When is it a good time to have a baby? You can plan and plan and save and plan some more, but I don't think anyone could ever be truly ready for such a ridiculously life-altering event. Everyone has their own theory on whether it's better to go ahead and get it over when you're young and don't know any better, or wait until you've got some experience with the world (meaning, cash in the mattress).

I thought it would get easier.

Stupid, huh? I really did. I thought that after a couple times trying it would become like clockwork, just another household chore that was routinely performed with a slightly irritated sigh and a shrug. That is NOT how it happens. Each time you try you let go of a little more hope. And some of us still drop important things, or continue to have awkward 'Am I doing this right?' moments, so practice does not make perfect. Because each time you realize you have to go through it all again, you doubt yourself a little more; if you can't even get this part right, how the hell are you suppose to manage the rest of it?

I feel like an imposter. I feel like a big faker in the trying-to-have-a-baby club, like I should be kicked out and have my membership rescinded. I have this weird guilt, like I'm one of those women in a Lifetime movie who is secretly taking birth control while pretending to try to conceive, even though of course I'm not. Maybe this is one of those easier-to-pretend-not-to-care-or-try-because-it's-easier-than-failing things, like me not teaching. Omg, did I say that out loud?

I want to make excuses to not do this. I want to blame it on stress, and instability, and ozone depletion, anything. Anything other than admit to being scared it can't or won't happen.

It's My Party, and I'll Cry If I Want To

Well, the third attempt has come and gone, much like Quiet's 30th birthday celebration. And thank god for that, on both counts. Well, actually, I should probably try one more attempt tonight (with the birth day thing, not the birthday thing), but since I'm tired and depressed and despondent, lately I just feel very hopeless about it. That's not a very pleasant attitude for conceiving a baby, but a cup and a syringe isn't exactly dinner and a movie either.

I think the party was a success, as parties go - there were at least 20 people in attendance, although it felt like 150 (thank god I didn't try to do a housewarming party on my own!), and they all seemed to have a good time. Most importantly, no one peed in anything unusual that I've found thus far, and my hair was big, and Quiet had a nice birthday, which is all that really mattered. Yay, Quiet is old!

And speaking of Quiet, here's the part where he needs to stop reading, since he doesn't need to hear me say hurtful things about his friend Loud or get out my stress about the party and life in general. He has enough to deal with being caught in the middle as it is. As if he's suppose to choose between me, the love of his life, and homemade turkey meatloaf! That's just cruel.

I'm just constantly amazed by how different family members can be, and yet how incredibly similar in the strangest ways. You all grow up in the same house, hearing the same things, doing the same stuff, and yet everyone becomes their own person no matter what. This has never been more evident than after a weekend with Loud's relatives. You can definitely see where he picks up his love of telling the same story over and over (I think there is some sort of comfort in this oral history tradition for them, despite the fact it makes me positively nuts, especially when the story isn't really a story, just something semi-funny someone once said repeated ad nauseum until I want to pop my own ear drums). I observed first-hand accounts of questionable hygiene modeling (don't even ask, but I'm going to be sterilizing the treadmill and the couch for sure).
But they were helpful. And, for the most part, considerate, or at the very least concious of their actions and aware of other people's feelings. Loud got none of this; his mother argues he did, it must not have stuck. Loud told me that since I had invited his family for the party that I was having, he shouldn't have to do anything with them. So when they arrived at 9 am Friday morning, he didn't get out of bed to say so much as hello while I made snacks and drinks and entertained and cleaned up after them, and pretty much kept doing that until 2 pm Sunday when everyone left. Meanwhile, Loud bitched to my friends and relatives that I was being mean to him 'for not helping enough'. At 6:00 pm the day of the party, about an hour after he woke up, he went and got alcohol since he wanted wine for himself. I guess I should be more grateful? According to my cousin he graciously wanted to cancel the whole thing last-minute, which I think is not only very considerate of me and the two months of preparation I had already done, but extremely considerate of Quiet, who did more cleaning and organization for his own party than Loud.
So speaking of Quiet, who is thoughtful and helpful and would do anything for anyone, you'd expect his family to be the same, but not a single member offered to help with the party preparations in any way. I compare this to how my family pitched in for my 30th party and it's just incredible to me. I was so desperate for help my own cousins were going to come early to get the place decorated. And don't get me started on his mother not being able to make it - my mother came from Canada for my party! I guess there are different priorities; I know I am quick to judge and I can't expect people to have the same consideration for things. But if this party taught me nothing else, it showed me how much my family loves me and always has, despite everything.

So what did I learn? Never, never, ever again will I try to do something like this. The more I did, the more bitter I got, and the harder it was to hide it as I got more tired and worn down. I don't want to be the martyr here, and I really didn't set out trying to do this thing all by myself. I honestly thought I'd have help, and I was yet again disappointed by Loud. You'd think I'd learn. Having houseguests made everything that much tougher, and I didn't expect the strain it would be to have people nattering at me all day long. I feel terrible that Quiet finally took most of them to the mall, something I know he most likely hated to do, but I would have walked out the door and not come back til tomorrow morning if he hadn't, and I think he saw that (he's very smart that way).
Loud's feelings are hurt. I know he doesn't understand my anger, because he wouldn't have complained to my friends and family about how mean and unrealistic I am if he understood. It's frustrating that he's so seemingly thoughtful and considerate to people other than me and Quiet, because then they think that WE are the crazy people, the naggers who are unsupportive and harsh. People don't understand what it's like to live with a Loud. He sleeps during the day, so is totally unavailable for anything that involves the house or is tired and grumpy and feels attacked if you try to have any sort of conversation with him during 'normal' hours, and complains bitterly about it although it is a schedule of his design. He makes dinner at 1 am and then plays video games til 3, but doesn't notice how loud the microwave or TV is. He often works from bed the rest of the night, music blaring, and flies into a rage if Quiet asks him to wear headphones. He makes promises to take care of things, pick things up, put things away, follow up on stuff, but never does any of it, and says straight to our faces he doesn't see why he should.

And finally we get to the crux of the issue (I knew you were waiting, wondering how all this complaining and Loud-bashing fit into the DIY plan). Like Quiet, I thought I knew what I was getting into when I befriended Loud, but at that time I was on the other side. Plus, I'm still a girl, so thought it wasn't as bad as Quiet said it was (early on in our friendship Loud had told me that Quiet had a tendency to over-exagerate his bad habits and negative traits), and even if so, Loud could change. When I was a casual acquaintance he had all the time in the world for me, was supportive and thoughtful and apologetic if anything happened to offend, so for the first couple years it was pretty fun. But as we got closer and he seemed to grow to care less and less, I've become the bad guy, for having the gall to ask him to help pay the guy who cuts the grass or not leave his dirty socks in my blankets. If I can't manage now, when Quiet and I are already pulling more than our share and I can't even talk to him without the conversation ending in shouting and tears, how am I suppose to manage when I have another little person? If he can't be considerate of his partner or his friend, why would I expect he would behave any differently with a baby around? I'm already resented, I can't take any more of that, and I won't have Alistair resented.

My sister had a good point; where's the hardass my family knows and loves? As I get older, I really worry about reacting to things like my dad, and I try to be more patient and give second chances. At heart I do love Loud and want everything to work out. I know he has great traits, otherwise I would be out the door already. But she's right; I keep giving him these fourth and fifth chances, keep my mouth shut, overlook stuff, pick my battles - how far does that go? I wish I could be more like Quiet, able to forgive and forget easily, but I'm just not that person, and it gets worse when I try.

I don't really like any of our options. If we can't get things worked out, then we have to sell the house, which is bad enough on its own (all that freaking painting! and that packing/unpacking! I love this house! I don't want to be separated from Quiet, the best roomie I've ever had, second only to Karen!). But then what? I get my own place and try to raise the baby on my own? Or I move back closer to my family and they help, totally giving up my life here. Or I forget this whole crazy baby notion and either get my own place or some other roommate that I'll most likely despise, and be filled with regret every day til I die. This is the problem with consequences, and ultimatums; something has to happen.

Threes

Good things come in threes, third time's a charm... and Quiet is 30 today! Maybe the Ides of March will bring me luck as I go for The Third Attempt.

Prayer to the Internet Gods

Dear Internet,

Please let me go home today. Let the flight to Chicago be sunny and clear, and let the flight to Raleigh not be delayed or cancelled. Just let me go home. And, if you could, let me stay at home. Make the useless resources working on this report see the light and finish the deliverable, today, so that I don’t have to come back again to this God-forsaken patch of cold dirt on Monday. Shine your benevolence upon my pitiful countenance; reward the silent bearing of my burdens I have endured in the face of the client and my boss these past two weeks. Heal my emotional and physical pains; the stabbing, ever-constant abdominal ache that has developed over the past few days and kept me awake nights, and let it not be an ulcer or something worse. Forgive my sin of over-confidence that this report could ever be completed. Judge me, for I have judged my coworkers and found them unworthy, especially when one said, ‘Don’t put cilantro in that!’ to your obedient servant making the guacamole last night, and I did covet the cilantro.
Lead me not into temptation to beat my coworker with a shoe, and deliver me from the evil that is Kansas City.
Just let me go home.

The Axe and the Grindstone

Nothing changes one’s perspective quite like a layoff.

I had this whole depressing diatribe written, ready to post, about how frustrated and unsupported and overburdened I was. And then, at 8:00 am this morning, ¼ of my team received phone calls that they no longer had a job. As of that moment.

So I have a decidedly more cheerful attitude now, once I got over the heartsickness of losing my favorite PM co-worker, and just a few seconds after the email from corporate that everyone who would be leaving had been informed and the rest of us could breathe a sigh of relief. I have a little survivor’s guilt, since Jerry had more seniority and more skills than I, but since I’ve been worried off and on for the past two months (especially with all the latest client issues) about my own position being in jeopardy, I’m mostly just grateful right now.

So yes, the February attempt was a failure and I’m never going to get my Baby Diploma if I keep flunking these tests. Yes, I’m tired, stressed, grumpy, bleeding buckets and filled with despair and general loathing. It’s true that poor Quiet and I will have to grit our teeth and put our noses to the grindstone for another attempt (hey! that’s neither a grindstone NOR a nose!). But I don’t have to worry about losing my house or working two jobs or giving hand jobs on the street corner or swallowing my pride and calling old companies. Not today, anyway.

I Swear, I'll Post Something Other Than Work Stuff Soon

It would be funny if it were happening to someone else. No, really, it’s like a Marx Brothers routine (or something way more current but equally goofy). One step forward and nine steps back is how this week has gone. None of the real working resources will commit to anything, so we keep subbing in other people, who just screw things up further and frustrate the client, and then the original resource comes back and spends a day undoing what the sub did. I’ve been informed that we’re most likely going to need to be back on Monday since we’re going to miss tomorrow’s deadline (ignore, for a moment, the fact that I HAVE NOTHING TO CONTRIBUTE AND THE RESOURCES DOING THE WORK ARE NOT HERE ONSITE). It makes this little vein on the left side of my head throb to think about it. I missed a mandatory team call this morning and my boss hasn’t called me back yet (which in retrospect is good, it means he hasn’t been able to yell at me or fire me yet).

On an interesting side note, I think I have proven another form of gaydar. I haven’t coined a term for it yet, but it’s the ability in gay men to spot a gay-man-friendly woman. I have encountered it several times before but thought it might just be because I’m friendly, or a coincidence, or how gay men treat all women. But I now have enough experience to know this isn’t the case.
The reason I bring it up is because it’s happened twice so far on this work trip. Once was at the restaurant last night and once in the office. We had a nightmarish trip to the Cheesecake Factory for dinner, which I hate, but Dumb and Dumberer apparently love. It was raining, and I was driving, and they kept shrieking harpy-like directions at me, and then it was hailing, and then they waved their hands and yelled that I parked 1.2 feet away from a closer parking space and made me move the car so that I totally lost it and roared, ‘OH MY GOD!’ at the top of my lungs, swerved into the space, and ran out of the car into the rain, leaving them to try and wait out the storm/tornado. So I was finally alone for five seconds and went to get us on the waitlist, and this precious little host raised an eyebrow at me and said, ‘Hon, I just love what you’ve done with your hair’. I said, ‘You like it? I’m going for derelict, I worked VERY hard on it’ and he just about lost it. So we had a lovely chat until D&D came in and started to moo about how fancy the restaurant was and how we had to go look at the bathrooms. Very humiliating.

Then this morning, the IT Manager came over to my little temporary cubicle and introduced himself, and started recommending some restaurants to me, and eventually used the phrase, ‘Because I –certainly- don’t look like this after work hours when this costume comes off’, and might as well have snapped his fingers. It’s funny because he’s older and bald and I would bet no one in his office knows since I’m in Bible McJudge-a-lot land and he presents himself as very gruff and straight-and-narrow. Anyhow, he certainly hasn’t talked to D&D, who would both put him on some sort of cross covered in ants and gasoline (the little bites between the flames are very painful, trust me). I know this because among Dumb’s riveting dinner topics last night were stories about Granny’s bunions, a preacher-visiting-for-dinner mishap that I won’t torture you with, and one about her grandson who is quite obviously gay from the details of the story she told but the story was about her concerns for him not being married or having kids yet. And she picked her nose in our 3:00 meeting with all the executives. And she has this habit of sitting in an office chair slouched down, with one arm flung over the back of it so that her Tweedledum-like stomach rolls are more prominent. Very professional. And that’s what I’ll get to come back to next week.