I am what most people around here consider a heathen.  And, in their opinion, I will be going straight to hell upon my death.  So, no, I do not belong to a church.

I make more than two times what my husband does (which is not very much at all).  So, no, I can’t afford to stay home with my kids – as much as I would like to.

With these very dark marks against me, I have very few friends.  Add to that the fact that I am extremely shy when I meet new people (to the point that they think that I’m a stuck up snob) and I haven’t been able to make a new friend in a very long time. 

So, I tend to cherish the very few friends I do have.

I have two close friends left from my previous, pre-married life.  I love them both, but I don’t get to see either of them since I live two thousand miles away.

I really only have one close local friend, or at least I thought I did.

I feel like she is purposely trying to get me out of her life.  She’s never been the one to make the initial contact and I just thought it was because she was so busy.  Every time I would call her to make plans or just to talk she would respond with “oh, I was just about to call you”.  I didn’t realize how annoying this was until one of the calls I made a few months ago.

She’s a stay at home mother.  I was on maternity leave for the whole summer.  Not once did she call me to see how I was doing.  Even though this was extremely hurtful to me, a week before I was scheduled to go back to work I called her with the intention of asking her to go to lunch with me.   I knew all of her kids would be in school and I wouldn’t have another opportunity to do such a thing once I did go back to work full-time.  Before I even got a chance to ask her she gave me her normal response of “oh, I was just about to call you”.  But then, her husband came home for some reason or another and she said that she had to go but that she would call me back later on that day.  That call never came.

I called and left a few messages, but never heard anything back until I received an email from her inviting me to one of her friends’ baby showers.  Emails were exchanged, and somehow plans were made for us to go see a movie.  I left it up to her to let me know when would be good for her since she seemed far busier than me.  She never got back to me. 

The last time I heard from her was in another email inviting my family (along with a few others) to her husbands 35^th birthday get together.  We couldn’t attend, nor did I want to at this point.

In addition to her being a stay at home mother, she and her family are ultra religious.  I wouldn’t say that they are zealots or anything, but I’m beginning to think that these differences are too much for her to get over.  Because without them I couldn’t understand why she would be acting like this.  I don’t think that I’ve done anything to make her want to get me out of her life, but then again I could be wrong.  Although, I hope I would remember being so awful to a person that they don’t want to be around me.

I’m beginning to resent being the one to initiate contact, and then being blown off as if I’m annoying her.  Also, I’m beginning to feel like I’m being a burden to her and she doesn’t see the friendship the same way that I do, even though she has referred to me as her 7^th sister in the past. 

I’m at a loss as to what to do.  Hubby wants me to forget about her since she’s obviously not interested in being friends.  I want to try and salvage what I can since she’s the only person I have outside of work and my husband.  Am I just kidding myself?  Should I take her signals for what they appear to be and move on? 

We’ve lived here on and off for ten years.  My husband has friends through school (he graduated over a year ago) and work.  Obviously, it’s time for me to make new friends regardless of whatever happens with her.  

I’d like to meet people who are in the same boat as me – mothers who work a regular 9-5.   I’m not even all that concerned about their religious beliefs, though it would be nice if we could go out for a drink (of the alcoholic variety) every once in a while, but even that isn’t necessary.   I’ve joined the PTA, though I’m only meeting mothers who stay home with their kids.  As I’ve already mentioned, I’m a heathen so I’m not about to join a church just to make friends.  Besides, I think Hubby might ask for a divorce if that were to happen. 

So, what’s a girl to do?

Although it would have been better had I been at Target, it was almost just as good. 

You see, I’ve been trying to get out of the house to buy a dress for a wedding I’m going to next month.  This wedding is going to be on the beach, in the Caribbean, the day before Thanksgiving (go ahead, kill me now).  Due to this, I needed a nice summery dress.  Summer normally ends where I live in the beginning of September, so I knew I was pushing the envelope.  Because, with summer ending that meant that the summer wardrobe would be leaving store shelves (if it hadn’t already) to be replaced by comfy sweaters.

I was stressing about not being able to find a dress, even though I hadn’t tried to look for one.

I went shopping last night after work, not to look for the dress (because, apparently I enjoy stressing about something that I can easily solve). 

No, I went to Kohls to replace the broken over-the-shoulder-boulder-holders (what, you don’t buy your bras at Kohls?  Go easy on me, they were having a sale).  After procuring non-broken bras, I wandered over to the section that covers the rest of my body to look for more work shirts (not before checking out the sale that was going on in the baby clothes section – it’s like kryptonite to me). 

That’s when I looked at the clearance rack.  I never look at the clearance rack, mainly because by the time I get there my size is either gone or what is in my size is horrendous.

That’s when I saw two dresses that would be perfect for the beach wedding.  They were 70% off, bringing them to $16 each.  And, they were in my size!  I bought both of them, because I’m that indecisive and, hey, they were $16.

Swistle would be so proud.

When I got home to put on a new one before heading out again, the one I put on was also broken.

The only clean one left is a nursing bra.

That’s right!  I haven’t nursed in over two months, but I’m wearing a nursing bra – and boy let me tell ya, it comfy (not)!

The 4^th was just over three weeks ago. 

After hashing it out some more, Hubby went ahead with the Snip.  We both decided that it was the best decision for us. 

We discussed how I thought that he would be okay with another one given his reaction to the possibility that I was pregnant again.  He said that he wanted to completely go ape shit.  He said that he didn’t because if I really was pregnant and he lost it, how would that make me feel?  Kind of like when two teenagers realize that they are about to become parents and the guy proposes out of some sort of twisted feeling of responsibility.  That made me think, “Holy shit, he really doesn’t want another child, but if I convince him to have one he’ll go along with it but then our relationship will be doomed from then on”. 

So, I told him that I was set with the two children we have and to go ahead with it.

Now, according to him, we have to have sex (still protected) another god knows how many times to get the still living swimmers out of his system.  Originally, the number of times was a much smaller amount, but had drastically changed after the follow-up visit with his doctor – hmmmm, do you think that this is men banding together to get more sex out of their wives? 

So, unless some freaky failure of our current form of birth control happens, we will be a three child household.  Oops, I mean two child household – Hubby doesn’t count, does he?

Moving on.

I need help with something. 

As you may have guessed, I had a baby about three months ago.  I have also been shut out by my aparents (again – more on that another time, maybe) which is why I’m turning to the internets for advice – I have no one else to go to. 

Anyway, the pregnancy went ok.  Not great (definitely not as easy as my first), but ok.  There were a couple of OMG moments, but they were easily dealt with.  Actually, these moments were more me freaking out and getting stressed over what turned out to be nothing. 

However, the birth is a whole other story.  In the end, I had to have an emergency C-section which left me thinking as they rolled me into the operating room that I never wanted to have another child.  I had every bad scenario running through my head, most of them leaving my children motherless and my husband without a wife.  For those of you who want a detailed description of what it was close to being like, go here.

While I was still pregnant Hubby and I had decided not to find out if it were a boy or a girl.  Before the baby was born we had said that if it were a girl we would be done having children.  If it were a boy, we would probably have another child to possibly try for a girl. 

I was convinced it was a girl.  He was convinced it was a girl.  The Magic 8 Ball said it was a girl.

I had a boy. 

He’s wonderful!

He spent a few days in the NICU, and was on oxygen for 11 weeks.  Nights are a little harder than I thought they would be at this stage, but they’ve never been this bad.  Breastfeeding was a huge disaster, as it was with our first child.  But, apart from that, he’s pretty healthy. 

After having some time to reflect on the pregnancy and birth, I’m not sure if I’m done having children.  I’m 80% sure I’m done, but not 100% sure. 

Hubby says he’s pretty sure he’s done, but the reasons he gives make it sound like he wouldn’t mind having another one.  He’s 33 and I’m 31.  He says he doesn’t want to have a child who’s still at home when he’s in his 60′s.  I understand that.  For him to have a child at home while he’s in his 60′s would mean that we would have another child 10 years from now – trust me, I do not want that either.  The five years between our two sons is a huge age difference as it is, and I do not want to be pregnant when I’m 40 anyway (if it would even be possible).  He also says that we don’t have the finances to support another child.  Right now, that’s true.  But, in a year or two when we’re doing better financially what will his take be on things then?

Ok, now for a little bit too much information. 

About five weeks ago, I knew for sure that I had ovulated for the first time since giving birth.  I also knew that we had had (protected) sex a few hours before.  So, when I didn’t get my period two weeks later like was supposed to happen, we just assumed that the protection had failed and I was pregnant again.  We were both mostly ok with this.  Yes, it was a bit too soon since the birth of our second son.  And, yes, it would mean that once the child was born I would have to be unemployed because of silly FMLA laws.  But we were both prepared to deal with that.  Two more weeks went by before I eventually did get my period, which meant that I had either been really late (unlikely for me – I’m usually on time or early) or had had a miscarriage.  Either way, I’m not pregnant now.

Here’s where your advice comes in.

Hubby is scheduled for a vasectomy on the 4th.  He says he’ll cancel it if I want him to.  But I’m not sure if I do.  I’m happy with my two boys.  I’m pretty sure I don’t want another one, but like I said not 100% sure.  I also don’t know if I want the option to be completely gone in less than a week.  The surgeon says that the procedure is reversible 90-95% of the time, with a 50% chance of his fertility going back to what it was before.  Those odds are not good.

Should I have him postpone the surgery?  Should he go ahead with it anyway?  Here’s how I look at it.  If he’s sure that he doesn’t want any more children, then all the talking in the world isn’t going to change that and he should go ahead with it – right?

I know you can’t make my mind up for me, but any advice or information you have would be great.

Boy: “Mommy, the bird’s are making noise, it’s time to wake up!”

Me (in a very low whisper, I’m surprised he could even hear): “Sweetie, the bird’s wake up before Mommy does so go play in your bedroom.”

Even though all I wanted to do was go back to sleep, I couldn’t help but chuckle at my cutie’s sense of logic and got out of bed.  Admit it, you would’ve done the same thing – it was, afterall, 7:30am (well, really 8:30 because of the time change, but who’s counting?).

That’s me with the baby in my tummy (you might need to click it to see it properly).  Apparently he sees me as birdlike.  Which, if you know anything at all about me, you know that birdlike will never be an adjective used to describe me.

***

I had a panic attack today.  I started thinking about all of the things that were going to require additional money after the baby is born and I nearly hyperventilated. 

First, Hubby and I had discussed my maternity leave (hah! If you could call it that).  Where I work you don’t actually get paid maternity leave.  You are, however, allowed to use all of your other leave (sick and vacation time) to supplement whatever time you want to take off.  Just make sure you take less than the allowed 12 weeks of FMLA leave which guarantees your job upon your return. 

We had figured out that between my sick leave, my annual leave, and the six weeks of advanced sick leave, I would be able to take 9 of the 12 weeks off as paid.  We both figured we could find a way to make it so I could then take the additional three weeks off as unpaid.  That is, until someone at work warned me that I better not take more than 9 days off unpaid because that’s when all hell breaks loose.  Apparently, when you take more than 9 days off unpaid our employer wants you start paying them back for the amount they are covering for your insurance.  Also, when you’ve taken more than 9 days off unpaid you no longer continue accruing leave.  Ok, so this now leaves us with just about two weeks of unpaid leave I can take – no huge deal and not the main cause of the panic attack – though it was a contributing factor. 

Then, I realized how much money I would actually be losing by taking unpaid leave.  I realized this at about the same time that I realized the mortgage on our rental unit is supposed to go up by four hundred dollars in July (just about when I would start taking said unpaid leave).  Also, I realized at the same time that formula is expensive and if I am not able to breastfeed (a likely event given my last unsuccessful attempt at such an endeavor) it’s going to cost us about $200 a month just to feed the kid!  And, OMG, how much are diapers these days! 

So, lets add this up:  I’ll be losing approximately $2000 for the 9 days of unpaid leave; I’ll have to pay to have insurance coverage – which I can only guess will be another $600 based on previous experience of having to pay for insurance ourselves; another $400 for the mortgage; another $200 for formula; another $1,000,000 for diapers.  Oh my god!  What have we done!  We’re already struggling with meeting our monthly commitments!  I try to tell my husband all of this, and suggest I not take any unpaid leave and his response “no, you’ll take twelve weeks off like we had planned – we’ll figure it out”.  Aahhh!  That does not help!

And then, to top it all off, our daycare provider said she would not be able to take an infant when we need her too because she’s taking one at the end of this month and already there’s a problem with seating in her car.  Did she just want me to die right then and there!  Now, we have to find a new daycare.  It’s not fair! 

I should go, I feel like I’m having another panic attack re-hashing it all again.

Uh yeah, that’s what I’m calling dinner these days…

In an earlier post I had mentioned that I was hit with a few tidbits of information that I wasn’t expecting when I met my half-sisters.  I didn’t go any further into this for a variety of reasons.  These reasons ranged from not really knowing what my feelings on the matter were to needing to keep it a secret.

So, the information I was given?  One of my half-sisters has given birth to four children in total.  The first one died shortly after birth – this I knew before meeting her.  The second one she is currently parenting – I also knew this before meeting her.  The third one was placed in another family for adoption – again, I knew this before meeting her, though I was not really happy about it.  The fourth one (I think he was born a little over three years ago) was also placed in another family for adoption – this is what I did not know before meeting her.

Neither did our mother

Hence the reason for needing to keep it a secret.

I have since been able to work out my feelings on the matter – I think.

Also, I no longer need to keep it a secret.  My half-sister told our mother just about a month ago – right before Christmas.

I’m guessing she was pretty upset when she was told.  She told me that she was angry with her other daughter for telling me and asking me not to tell anyone else.  But, then she went on to get really angry at my half-sisters husband (the father of all of these children). 

You see, he doesn’t work.  He has a debilitating disease that I’m guessing my nmother doesn’t really understand.  She’s angry at him for getting her daughter pregnant without taking responsibility afterwards.

I can see where she’s coming from, but then again, I kind of feel like she’s being a huge hypocrite.

This is how I responded to her, which I’m now beginning to think was a little too harsh:

I realize you said that you’re upset with yourself for letting M think that adoption was a good option, but what you wrote about your feelings surrounding her actions leave me a little upset too.  You said this about J (M’s husband): “what is his fucking problem?  Don’t most men understand that once you get your thing wet and start making babies, you are supposed to do everything you can to figure out a way to support them?”

I’m sorry if what I’m about to say upsets you, but this is how I felt when I read what you wrote.  To me, your statement seems hypocritical and very much like a double standard.  You know, it goes both ways – it’s just not the man’s responsibility.  Weren’t you in the same situation?  Didn’t you do the same thing?  Shouldn’t you have done everything possible to make sure that you and W (My nfather) supported me?  (On an aside, I’m not sure if I have the whole story from you surrounding that time, but from what T (one of my half-sisters from my nfather) has told me, someone’s got the story wrong.)  I guess the part of your statements that upset me is that it seems like you are putting most of the blame on J for not being able to support his family when you didn’t do all that you could to support your child when it happened to you.  Just like you thought you were the best that you could for me, I’m confident that M feels the same way about the two children she has given up for adoption.

Let’s get this straight, I don’t support what M & J did at all, but the reason I think I was too harsh is because I emailed this to my nmother over two weeks ago and haven’t heard from her since.  I emailed M at the same time, and I also haven’t heard from her either.  I don’t want to smooth over what I said, but I’d like to hear from them.  What should I do?

Unfortunately, none of that means you have to know how to take a crap without completely decimating the toilet seat. 

From now on, I will not even attempt to enter the first stall in the ladies room (which, by the way, according to studies, is supposed to be the cleanest).  This is the second time I have encountered human feces wiped all over the seat.  It’s an image I would rather not have burned in my memory.  Even my four year old can manage to go to the bathroom without anything even remotely similar happening.

What I can’t understand is why the person who did this doesn’t clean up after themselves.  Again, you have to be at least 18 to work here!  Surely, they don’t do this at their home.  In fact, I think I would like to know who it is so I can make sure never to visit their house. 

Ok, if they did clean up after themselves, it still wouldn’t be sanitary for anyone else to sit on afterwards, but at least I wouldn’t have to look at it!

I just hope no one came in after me and thought I did it.

Gross!