Mark’s new insurance carrier at work declined to pay for any of our recently submitted claims, from the all important crazy meds to counselling sessions. They wanted us to submit the claim to MY insurance carrier first and THEN they would pay the “balance”. Mark had already told them I have no other insurance carrier, but thankfully my employer wrote up a memo to clear things up.

I wrote a tawdry entry for MamaPop. Go read!

Also read because MamaPop it give you the information you know you want from people you know and trust. Where else does the HULK offer advice?? EMAIL HULK! hulk@mamapop.com

Uh, I think I must have had too much mead and I uhhhhh darted out in front of an OX cart…..
In honour of the festival of the Vernal Equinox, I put up a couple of photos on flickr. Lame effort, but the Paxil —-> Effexor thing is kicking my ass. My excuse for the afternoon.

puddin’ time. do do do do. do do. do do PUDDIN’ TIME.
p.s. you are ALL right about the Vitamin Water. I learned how TO READ!

We are looking at possibly renovating or maybe even looking at buying a different house. I know this is part of the reason that THIS is coming up, but I am feeling a bit like I have lots my balls. My metaphorical balls. I have been off of work for more than four years. I never went back to work after I had Charlotte. I kind of knew I wouldn’t, in my heart I know I couldn’t. For several reasons, it would be difficult to work full-time and have a child. I know how lucky I am not to HAVE to go back to work in order to pay bills or buy groceries. My struggles with depression and anxiety and the changes that happened emotionally after having Charlotte, made it even more unlikely I would go back to work full-time. Initially, I had asked my former workplace for a job share situation, but they denied my request. My boss, a dude, with a wife my age and a child Charlotte’s age, said no. I feel so lucky not to be working in that environment now that it is all good.
So, I make some money with this blogging thing, but I ain’t bringing home no chunk of bacon and I rarely fry anything up in a pan. On the one had, I feel fortunate not to have the stressors of my old job, or probably lots of other jobs I could have. I have had some awesome opportunities as a blogger which I would never had in any other capacity and would not give up for anything. Gah, what am I trying to say here? As much as I want to me all modern and a stay at home, work at home, mom, what-have-you, and a feminist. Today, I just could not shake the feeling, the certainty that the money we use to live on, is Mark’s. He makes it at his job, the cheques come in HIS name, he goes to work every day. We have one bank account, everything is in both our names, yadda yadda yaddda, Today, I just felt like a 1950s housewife. I am also a LOUSY housewife. My child is in preschool/child care everyday during the week. She needs the contact and consistency and she is more well adjusted since going on a daily basis. Essentially I am a slacker mom. I don’t cook a nice meal everyday. I have 2 cleaning ladies that come in for a couple of hours every couple of weeks. Today, I just felt like a kept woman. It is like Little House on the Prairie, but I do very little. I almost keep us with laundry. Mark keeps the the kitchen tidy. I do all the Christmas shopping. Mark puts Charlotte to bed every night.
Don’t get me wrong, Mark isn’t making me feel this way. We make all spendy decisions together. I mean, I don’t ask Mark about a new bra or shoes or towels or whatever, but we try and talk about purchases when they are “bigger”. I think today, my feelings of inadequacy as a “work” a little at home mom, just dug in for a ride. I could provide excuses up the ass about why I don’t work harder to make more money via writing, or do more in the household arena. I could be more Martha Stewarty, more domestic. Yesterday I was able to take in about five pairs of pants on the sewing machine and made Charlotte a little grosgrain ribbon belt to help keep her pants from falling off her skinny ass. Poor kid, inherited both parent’s flatassedness. So, there, one household task accomplished. I am like a 5% mom today. The list just seems too long. My other roles, friend, mom, weight loss surgery patient, also seem woefully inadequate, but the wife part. I don’t want to feel like a “kept-woman”. The feminist in me is kicking my ass right now.

I had my own conference her while a lot of you were gone teching out with the people in Austin, where I noticed on day one, it was warmer HERE! I tried not to find pleasure in that. I don’t go, or have never really considered going to SXSW, one because I don’t have an employer who would pay for it, I feel under techified, and also, there are boys there. I know, I am 38, married, have a kid, etc, worked in a male dominated environment for 11 years (University), but this aspect of SXSW intimidates me. Also, since the weight loss surgery I cannot drink, so no gin as social lubricant for me. There ya have it. I am a chicken. I do look at all the fabulous people I may not meet at Blogher and think… maybe next year… maybe when I can drink again. I am a 38 year old adolescent.
The conference here was really just me, watching the snow melt, napping, seeing my psychologist, totally missing a psychiatrist appointment and I unpacked from my dee-liteful weekend in Napa with Helen Jane. I left the wooden sushi set with her, but I did bring a few things home. I love you Zappos US, where shipping is free. I also loved Helen Jane, where hugs were plentiful.
OH! I also read “Fat Girl”. Which was good. The New York Times said “Brilliant and angry and unsettling – there has never been a book like Fat Girl”. This is an apt description. It is a memoir. If anyone wants it, leave a comment and I will send it if you hug me next time you see me. I am now reading In the Realm of Hungry Ghosts, Close Encounters With Addiction. I am trying to really look at my relationship with food, and possibly addiction in the weight loss process. I know people want details and I have a post i the queue about the weight loss surgery. I will wait for you to all sober up and catch up on all your bloggity goodness. I just had my last snack of the night, a lemon yogurt and a “lite” babybel cheese with 4 melba toasts. Woo! Nighttime, is the right time wrong time for too much snackin’ time.
Daylight savings time is dumb, there I said it. Going to read my book and drift off. Ideally.
Hope you all get back safe and sound and that the rest of you are already so.
xo
* the i stand for inside.

Sorry, ’tis so much of what I think about all the time.
Charlotte is really into counting right now.

Case in point:

Number of times I swipe deodorant on my pits = ALSO 5!
The morning I got home from my wee holiday, before my trainer called, Charlotte kicked Mark out of bed and snuggled in. She said, “I love you mommy, I missed you mommy, I missed you because I love you mommy”, and then stroked my cheek with her little 4 year old hand and kissed me. I almost died. See! I can mommyblog!

yes, it has been a while. i had the lingering cold, which turned out to be pneumonia. which apparently conjured up my latent asthma. WTF? I ended up with inhalant steroids. Corticosteroids often makes people anxious, the inhalant simulates faux adrenalin, more anxiety. So it was giving me panic attacks until me and my team of medical experts realized that the inhalant was making me mental. I was scared and sick, but the inhalant helped and I felt better enough to go to San Francisco for a mini break. OH! and the rash all over my face from trying to use Oxyclean to get rid of my zit cleared enough to be seen by Lisa Stone and the hot Mr. Carfi for a lovely dinner with them and their fabulous friend Lief. Great night! I was then whisked off my Helen Jane to St. Helena in the Napa Valley. More on that later.
The morning I was back my trainer called me to break up with me. I don’t really blame her. Monday nights in particular I have been inconsistent for me, sickness, surgery, mental defect… and it has eclipsed all the goodness and fun that was California. I shouldn’t let it mar my while fabulous experience, but it hurt and i need a couple of days to get over it. Ugh, why must I be this way? Won’t these small slights ever stop cutting so deep?
More on all the Good Times soon.