A Lift

I know it has been so very long since I last posted.

I believe I've been suffering from Ongoing-Traumatic-Stress Disorder. 

You see, I quit my high paying job in July of last year partly because I was pissed at how they treated me, partly because the high-stress, high-smoking and high-drinking lifestyle wasn't conducive to the tiny pup in my belly and partly because I grew up in a wild and loving huge family and wanted the same for my incoming baby.

So we moved, at GREAT personal cost.  We lost so much money, people.  Hemorrhaged it.  I lost more money that you might actually have at your fingertips, and I don't mean to be condescending, I just need you to know how much money we'd saved, how many stocks we cashed out, and just exactly how hard this move was for us.   And then my husband lost his job. And then my severance ran out.  And then my parents gave us money.  And then we were slowly ticking that away.  

I would lie in bed at night and there would be actual physical pain, a neck ache, muscle pains like I'd been in a car accident.  My heart would race and my chest would constrict.   Maybe this is a panic attack?  I'm not dying.  I'm just losing.  I'm losing and I'm a loser and I forced my husband to move like this and I ruined our lives and we have this beautiful baby and I'm going to ruin her life by my selfish choices and we have lost everything.  We lost everything.

But a funny thing happened on the way to the poorhouse.   I got my husband back.  I got my marriage back.  I was gifted with this incredible daughter,  and I got to spend five months with her, and it wasn't hard to forget about my life stress while she was awake.  Because the joy of this little girl supercedes everything else I've been feeling.  And watching my sensitive, articulate husband giggle and smile and play with this little girl, and father her with such love and joy?  Oh my god.  If I didn't love this man before, I LOVE THIS MAN NOW.  

I'm saying all of this now because I have a job.   I was offered a really high paying job, in San Francisco, where we both want to live, doing something that I'm interested in, without all the high stress of my previous occupation.  And I took it.

I'll be in San Francisco by June 8th.  I hope that my husband and daughter are not far behind.

The thought of being without my daughter for even one night is heartbreaking to me, because I live and breathe to see her happy.  But she's got a dad who knows all the tricks, bells and whistles, and teaches me new things about her each day.  

And I think..... What a lucky little girl, that her dad and mom were there for her every day of her life for the first five months.  What a lucky wife, with a partner like this.  What a lucky, lucky, lucky blessed family we are.  We had a life lesson that didn't break us.  Just taught us something really important that we needed to know.

I hope to write more.  I've been unable to be very cheerful, and unable to be very snarky, lately. I've been in an extraordinary rut, and I've been unable to do anything except stupid my pain away.  And I don't want this to be a blog about motherhood, because there are better ones for you to read than me.  

Besides which, my aunt told me I should write a book about motherhood (I send home pictures of my daughter daily to my Ohio family) and I am.  I am writing the guide to motherhood fueled with margaritas and a really kick-ass husband.  I could do nothing without my husband.  He thinks I could, and I think he's wrong, but for a compromise let's just say I'd rather not do anything without him by my side.  

Update on the Awesome Spontaneous, Exactly the Right Thing To Do Purchase

He's taking it back.
Our close friend owns a computer shop north of us and has promised to build the Pope a supercomputer for the same price.

We trust him implicitly, he has never steered us wrong, so we're taking the Pope's new machine with Vista back in favor of a custom-built PC with XP.

Anyone (and I mean Jonathon here) have any experience or advice about Vista?

I have to bake 90 cookies tonight.

I will need more wine.

Yes It Is

We were at Costco tonight, picking up a birthday cake, present, and the Pope wandered into the computer section.

The Pope is thrifty to the point of near-miserliness.
He has about 10 shirts, 6 pairs of pants, 3 jackets and 2 pairs of shoes.
He typically drives cars that I can run faster than, and much more quietly to boot.

He doesn't buy stuff.

He's had the same computer for the last five years, and ever since I've known him the thing has taken a week to open the Internet Browser, and 13 years to close a file.

It was, as they say, time.

He found one he loved, there was a $150 rebate on it, and after checking the bank balance, we had the money easily and both of us had just received additional large checks to deposit.

I said, "Buy it."
"Maybe," he said.
"Buy it!!" I insisted.

All of a sudden he turned 13 and his eyes lit up with glee.
He asked serious questions of the Costco employee, but the corners of his mouth kept tugging up in the telltale grin that marks an elated Pope.

He put it in the cart and as we walked to the cash register I said,
"This is why you work so hard at a job you hate. This is why EVERYONE works so hard at jobs they hate."

"No," he said, "I work hard like that for us."
"No," I said.

"You work that hard so that you can buy something you want, let alone legitimately need."

Call me crazy, but we live a comfortable life. We've got money for things we need, and mostly we have the money for anything we want. We're not extravagant, we don't have to have the newest, latest gadgets, and once in a while it is prudent, and sane, to buy the first thing you see because you just want to.

Indefatigable

Tonight the Pope assented to wear a Breathe-Right strip for me.
He's been sleeping better lately, and a result.....I haven't been.

He snores like a fucking lumberjack.
Who knew?
I'm three years in, and I didn't.

I layed in bed with my Wyoming short stories (E. Annie Proulx and wondrous)
and he drifted off to sleep.

The Breathe-Right held on for a while, keeping it to a dull roar of muffled squeaking and strangled "WHAAAAAs."

All of which I listened to while shaking with laughter. The Pope's own cat was horrified, kept sneaking glances to make sure Dad wasn't dying on the vine like it sounded.

And then I think the almighty plastic laid down its sword in defeat.

Because the Pope is in there sawing logs with the angels.
And I'm on my way to the guest bed.

Darling, we'll try it again tomorrow night.

I'll stop and get some duct tape.