That was fun ... NOT!

With the errands I had to run today, I knew I would not be near home at Linden's next feeding. So I packed a bottle and made plans to stop at a restaurant for lunch. I figured I'd get a little break, and I could feed him while my food was being prepared. A win, win.

Not!

As I make a habit of eating at the same places, at the same time, on the same days, I forget about the places I normally avoid with a baby. Places where babies, and those carrying them, are treated like leapers.

Seriously, in thirty minutes, three tables of people asked to be reseated once they realized a baby was in their section. They didn't even sit down. And Linden was being good; a few happy noises, some drool, a smile or two.

The restaurant was fast filling up, except for the immediate tables around us. You would have thought we were flinging food.

I became so self conscience I couldn't enjoy my lunch. I called for my check and left before someone decided to jump out a window to escape us.

The Cost of Sleep

I was thrilled during my pregnancy to stumble upon a cradle swing at a garage sale for only $15. It was an older model, probably one of the first to come out. But it worked and that was all the mattered. The cheapest I'd been able to find a second hand one was about $60 on craigslist and I couldn't afford that type of expense for something I wasn't sure we'd use.

When I got it home and cleaned up, I was a little dismayed to find out it took four size D batteries (which cost about $8). I did search, and there was no option to connect to an outlet - which all the newer models have.

The first set of batteries lasted about a month after Linden's birth. In part, this was due to the fact that Linden seldom stayed in his swing the first three weeks. It was around the one month mark that his allergies started to develop and sleeping flat on a mattress was no longer an option. He quickly adapted to sleeping in the swing which is a more upright position. All his naps, and nights, are spent sleeping in a gently moving swing.

Unfortunately, as Linden's weight has increased the life of batteries in his swing has decreased. The first set lasted about a month. The next set about three weeks. Then two. When I had to start buying them every week I began to get concerned. Now we're down to every four days.

Eight dollars every four days.

Two dollars a day.

That's the cost of sleep in our house.

... and not the dark one.

I took Will to a jumpy house today for a few hours. I picked one that has a concession area. That way Linden and I can sit comfortably at a table while Will plays. As I sit down, I couldn't help but notice the family next to me had a baby just about Linden's size.

Within a few minutes, the mom asked how old Linden was, and I told her he was 3 months old. Her daughter was 9. (Which shouldn't have surprised me as Linden was wearing a 9 months, and they were damn near the same size.)

She was very easy to talk to, and very outgoing. Before long we shared the facts that our babies were both the fourth born of our children. While she was amazed to find out I had grown children, I was amazed to find out her's were 6, 4, 2, and 9 months. YIKES!

We discussed staying at home as moms and breastfeeding. And that was when it got weird.

"I don't consider myself a zealot, or anything," she said.

That's never a good way to start a conversation.

"But I do believe in God and a good force that works in his ways."

Okay, I can understand that.

"And I believe an opposite force is at work too. An evil force."

Weirdly worded, but most people who believe in God believe in the Devil as well.

"I believe this evil force is working against us to destroy the family.
I mean, think of how the stay-at-home mom or
breast-feeding mom is persecuted.
Looked down on.
They treat us like we have no value."

And she lost me.

It's not that I don't see, hear, and live the prejudice she was talking about every day. I do. In our current society, living in a metro area, we are in the minority. I know of several moms on my street, and I'm the only one that stays at home. I know of two women with babies about Lindens age in my neighborhood, and I'm the only one still nursing.

But I don't think it's an evil force.

Steve and I talked about it this evening and he thinks our society is more focused on finances and moving-up than on family. Which I can agree with to a point.

I think the base issue is two-fold.

1.) The down fall of the family unit within America. And oddly, I think that started way back when it become easier for family members to move further away from each other. Children are seldom raised with nearby family members; aunts, uncles, cousins, grandparents, etc. It used to take a village to raise a child, now it takes a nanny or daycare.

2.) We are becoming less social each generation. As a whole, we no longer go out and mingle with our neighbors. We don't stop in grocery stores and chat with strangers over lettuce selections. We don't know the names of our UPS driver, mailman, or the fireman that lives down the road. We are more involved in jobs that separate us from each other. Spend more free time online or gaming. We date online. We socialize online. We are slowly creating a society that values distancing themselves from mundane life; like raising their own children. (Shouldn't there be a program for that?)

Oh well, that's my deep thought for the day. Brought to you by the weird mom I sat next too. All I can say is, "May the force be with you ... and not the dark one."

First Date

Sixteen years ago tonight, Steve and I had our first date. He picked me up in a grey/maroon truck and took me to a Chinese restaurant.

I remember exactly what I wore (and how long it took me to pick it out).

I don't remember what I ate, but I remember much of the conversation. We haven't eaten in a Chinese restaurant since that the conversation doesn't come back to me.

I remember the ride home. Hard is it is to believe, it was very cold and we had to wait for the truck to warm up so we could defrost the windows.

I remember feeling like the most beautiful woman in the world, at least to Steve.

I also remember the butterflies in my stomach - afraid I'd say the wrong thing, afraid I wouldn't.

Last night, I asked Steve if he ever expected, that night, that we'd be together sixteen years later and he said no. He didn't expect there to be a second date.

But I knew. (I just didn't expect Will and Linden to show up along the way.)

Tonight was spent bathing and bouncing a fussy baby, helping Will with homework, fixing and eating dinner. By the time seven came around, the entire family was worn out and on the way to bed. I got a hug and kiss as I headed to the nursery with Linden. Some might not have considered it a fitting celebration, but it was exactly right for us.

And then you die...

The last month of my pregnancy with Linden, I knew that I wouldn't live to raise him. It was an 'odd' knowing. Nothing I've ever experienced before. I ran through scenarios in my head; what would happen to Steve if I died, could he handle raising a newborn and Will, what would happen to my kids, etc.

The last week of my pregnancy, I cried every night, thinking it was the last days I'd get to spend with Will and Steve.

I never told anyone of my fears. They made no sense to me, how would they to anyone else. Women rarely die during childbirth any more and there wasn't anything wrong with me, but that I was old.

My best friend was at the hospital with me several hours the morning I was admitted, and she came back after Linden was born. When we were alone in the room, she confessed to having horrible dreams that I died while giving birth. I shared the fears I'd been living with.

We laughed. We cried. Then, we thanked God I was still alive and we were both obviously idiots.

I never really gave it another thought, until now.

Tomorrow I am having a small procedure performed in my doctors office with local anesthesia. An hour and a half tops and I'll be home with few side effects. If everything goes right. They made me watch this fifteen minute film outlining all the things that can go wrong.

All day I've found myself once again feeling like I'm saying good bye to my children. Sucking up every moment and holding dear ever expression ... like it will be my last.

And this time, I know I'm being an idiot in advance.

But that doesn't stop the fear. However, knowing where the fear comes from - that helps.

First off, I've had a lot of death in my family in the last five years: a first cousin, a close uncle, a sister, and my mother. There has been a lot of death in Steve's family since we've been together. Death has become way to familiar with me.

Second, a lot of close friends and neighbors have come down with cancer over the last few years. They are still fighting it, still winning. But knowing of their, sometimes daily, battle to live makes death closer and more real some how.

And lastly, I think aging makes you more aware of the fact that at the end of every life, you die. Just doesn't make those birthdays quite as appealing as they use to be.

What a deal!

For the business I run from home, I use several large outdated printers. I picked them up, and their backups, off craigslist for next to nothing because of their age. While all the printers I use originally sold in the thousands, I didn't pay more than a couple hundred for them. Naturally, they require inks, specialty paper, etc. The good news there is that since they are so old, I can usually scout out a good deal on the supplies I need on an auction site. And, occasionally, I get lucky and just stumble across a stockpile on craigslist.

HP Color LaserJet 4050N

I have one of these printers I use on a daily bases and one that I keep as a back up for when the other dies on me. Because it happens.

I have to replace the Drum Kit (new from HP $350), the Transfer Kit (new from HP $270), and the Fuser Kit (new from HP $190) once a year on average. The printer uses four toners, that new from HP, run about $80 each - and I go through 6-8 of them a year. Luckily, it takes standard paper.

HP DesignJet 600 - 36" Plotter

I also have one of these in operation and a back up. They use two standard HP ink cartridges that run about $35 each. I have to purchase paper on 36-inch rolls, and locally I would pay about $25 a roll. I go through 2 cartridges a year and 20+ rolls of paper.

Bargain Hunter Extraordinaire

Luckily for me, I never buy anything direct from the manufacture...or I would have already been out of business.

Over the four or so years I've had these printers in service, I've averaged the following prices on my expendables:

HP 4550N (Drum $70, Transfer Kit $50, Fuser $40, Toners $20).
HP 600 (Cartridges $10, roll of paper $10)

Lucky Shit

Since I had to install a new drum and transfer kit last week, I decided to start searching for new ones to keep on hand. I always start my search on my local craigslist. I was shocked to find an add listing a sister printer (the HP 4500) for sale with the following unopened HP items: 2 drums, a transfer kit, a fuser kit, and four toners -- all for only $50.

Now, I need another printer like I need a whole in my head. However, for that price, I figured I could stop off and donate it to Goodwill on my way home from picking it up. When I noticed the ad was dated the first of December I was positive it was already sold, but I inquired about the lot anyway.

A gentleman responded the next day saying he still had every thing and asking what I was interested in. I explained that I didn't actually need the printer, but I'd take it. I really wanted the printer accessories.

His response, was that if I didn't want the printer he'd sell me the other things for only $25. I made arrangements to pick them up; and I did.

Frigging damn luck saved me $1,475 off HP prices ($285 off "Misty" prices).

Yep, I'm a lucky shit.

Nightmares are made of these

A few weeks ago, I was laying in bed with Linden and Will watching cartoons. Will hands me the remote and it slips out of my hand and hits Linden on the head. Naturally, he cried. I felt horrible. Will laughed.

The next day, we were all back on the bed watching cartoons again. Linden was sleeping peacefully, until he started whining. His bottom lipped quivered and the saddest little noises were coming out of his mouth. Will asked what was wrong and I said maybe Linden was having a nightmare.

Will asked what kind of nightmares babies had. I was stumped. "Getting left by their mother. Not having food when they want it. Having a wet diaper." I had no idea what baby nightmares might be.

Will responded, "Maybe he's dreaming about you hitting him in the head with the remote again." Could be.

I took Linden to the doctor today and he got three shots. For the next 10 hours he whimpered, pouted, cried, shivered - was just generally upset. Each time he'd fall to sleep he'd wake himself up screaming. Bad dreams: and it didn't take a genius to figure out what they were about.

As I lay in bed with my heart-broken baby today, I thought about the origin of nightmares, possible phobias. Really, Linden didn't know that a remote hit him. Or, that I dropped it. As far as he was concerned something dropped from the sky and hit him in the head. Now that is scary.

What about today? Definitely no idea that shots are good for you. Nor does he have the ability to understand what happened. All he knows is that his clothes were taken off, his diaper stripped, then he was placed on a cold metal table (to be weighted and measured) and a stranger held him down and poked him several times.

Yep, I can see what type of fears can be seated in a persons mind; formed before they are old enough to comprehend the circumstances in which the experience took place. Just the pain.

Makes me look back at fears I've outgrown over the years and ponder their true origins.