Friday, July 22, 2011

Baby You Can Drive My Car

Man, is this kid getting big. He might still be a baby, but he sure is inching closer to Toddlerville, population: Jackson. Today he waved bye-bye while saying "baa-baa" for the first time. It makes me wistful, people. I miss my teeny little baaaaaybeeeeeee. *sniffle* But this guy's pretty fun.

I can't seem to muster up the time or energy for a Big Post about Big Things, but I can parcel some out here. Freelancing as a writer is going very well, and it seems to not be that hard after all to work a few days a week and stay sane and spend time with my kinder. So far, so good. The part I'm not looking forward to is marketing myself to new clients. Maybe the same old clients will keep coming back to the Jen B Freelance Buffet so I won't have to look too hard elsewhere. Incidentally, I was offered a staff writing job by one of my clients this week, which is tempting (they would let me work from home part-time, 4 or possibly even 3 days per week). The big trade-off is that, in exchange for a biweekly guaranteed paycheck, I lose a substantial amount of income potential. I can make more as a freelancer working three days a week than I could at this company full-time. And I feel like I have a pipeline of contract work. So. I am planning to turn it down. I may be crazy, y'all. Crazy like a fox.

My mother-in-law continues to drop not-so-subtle hints about wanting to babysit, although we've mastered the art of selective hearing or of saying, "We already hired a babysitter" and then immediately changing the subject. (Random safety issue-as-evidence: Jackson crawls to her fireplace, opens glass door, and she says "Oh, that's okay" while I run after him to scoop him up. Okay with whom?) But NOW she wants us to come visit her in Florida in the winter. And presumably stay in her condo. And spend all our time with her cuckoo friends getting smothered by their overbearing Italian-ness. What a vacation, where do I sign up?!? This came up after we told her we're going to a friend's wedding out-of-state in September -- actually, we are IN the wedding -- and taking Jackson with us. She has volunteered several times, more like strongly suggested, that we leave Jackson with her. For a week. I've used the "he's still nursing" excuse to avoid eye contact on that one, because the real reason is JUST NO. Anyway, once it sunk in that Jackson is going with us (my sister is actually flying out for two days to watch him during the rehearsal and the wedding, which makes her tremendously awesome), my mother-in-law made the connection that Jackson will have already had flying experience...hence, there is no reason at all why we can't fly with him to Florida. Except to avoid a nightmarescape of a trip. It could work, in theory, if we A) get a hotel, as I'm not staying in her 1000-degree cramped condo where we are surrounded by her assvice-wielding old-lady friends; B) rent a car, as I want the freedom to retreat to the hotel when Jackson needs a nap or WE need some peace and quiet as well as not having to gate check a carseat; and C) make it clear that a substantial portion of our trip will be devoted to family time, just the three of us, maybe spent down in Miami. I know we'd get endless shit for that, but whatever, it would be necessary to salvage this trip as somehow fun. Otherwise, it would be nonstop show-and-tell-and-overstimulate-and-dole-out-assvice-apalooza. I also know as soon as we showed up (during this still-hypothetical trip) she'd try to rip Jackson out of our hands and tell us to go out so she can babysit, which 'tis not going to happen. Not here, not there. The drag in this is that we can't say "no" to Florida and then hop on a plane to go anywhere else, as that will be tantamount to firing a shot across her bow. I would love to just book a trip to Napa, or Cabo, or where-the-fuck-ever and when she sulks just say NOTHING at all about it. It's our family vacation plan, and we want to do what WE want to do. (My sister-in-law didn't make the Florida trip with my niece until she was about 5 years old. Every day I better understand why.)

I dunno what else. I'm still working out and losing weight, kind of slowly. My fucking period is back with weird 40-ish day cycles, and that jacks everything up. Like milk production -- it seems to drop off sharply for a few days right before my period starts, and then catches up a few days later. And boy, did I not miss the Period Bloat. Fuck. Nothing makes a dieting girl feel worse than the return of the bloat. My trainer asked me this week if I want to kick it up a notch and start shedding pounds a little faster, to which I said yeah, motherfucker, let's get skinny. I don't know what "kicking it up a notch" will amount to, but I can only envision getting pummeled to a pulp with blunt objects and beaten senseless with sharp things. I might not be able to hold up a fork to feed myself. Maybe THAT'S the secret.


Lisa said...

It really sucks that your MIL is so overbearing with the assvice and unusual ideas about baby safety. Best of luck with that whole situation. Do what makes you happy. You shouldn't have to live your life around her.

Anonymous said...

Good luck with the MIL thing. I hear your pain, as I am constantly shooting down weird trip plans for when we go celebrate the one year old baby. She just can't get ot through her thick skull that I have no wish to spend too much time strapped down in a car in a friggin traffic, I go there to spend time with the family. But noooo, every week she tells me about another location and how baby friendly it is, since there were at least two kids there, whi, of course, my horse, were absolutely gaga over her and her awesome children skills. If she is so gifted, why did she leave her own child with his grandmother when he was two days old and only picked him up to live together when he was FIVE? Years, naturally. So yeah, fun times.

Good for you for choosing to make more money in less time. :-)

Skinny, you say? You really want to bring on the wrath? :-p

Roccie said...

Oh MIL why are you all such mother facking pains? Trust your gut and good for you sticking to it. Jackson can drive himself anyhow. Surely he can tuck himself into bed soon.

Work out plans rock, you fit bitch. I am proud of you and looking forward to hearing the abuse.

bunny said...

I look forward to you weighing 12 pounds next week. That should help your milk production!

OH MIL! I hate that she makes you guys strategize and do all this insane thinking and plotting. I wish she were just a joy to be around and a help. But life ain't like that.

Jackson is so autonomous! (No pun intended.) I hope he doesn't drive away forever!

Trinity said...

OMIGAH! Put yer seatbelt on, kid! You're growing way too fast! A+ on those deliciously plump thighs, btw. :)

I never even considered before that the return of my period could have an effect on my milk. I can't tell you how freaked out I get when I think of something jacking with my milk supply. This has everything to do with me being a slackass motherfucker when it comes to pumping. I just don't do it. I hated it when I went back to work, and when I quit work I quit pumping. I know, irresponsible and lazy, right? Eeeeeek.

I say plan that trip to Napa and to hell with the MIL.

Also, I don't think I ever made my way back to your blog to congratulate you on your freelancing! So proud of you, mama. Since you're drowning in assvice, I'll just add my own: do whatever preserves your precious, precious sanity. I have a feeling you will not experience a shortage of contract work.