disappointment

A while ago -- I long while ago -- I announced that I made the cut for a second interview for a job I was capable of doing in the area I want to move to.  I then waited.  And waited.  And waited.  I was told I would get a second interview.  I was told they would be in touch.  But they didn't actually set up the second interview.

After waiting 6-8 weeks to hear when that second interview might actually be I contacted them.  They apologized.  But said they were now in the position to move forward with scheduling the second interview.  They would be in touch soon.  So I waited some more.

Now it has been 8 weeks since the last contact.  I know this makes me sound desperate.  Waiting for this long.  But there are not a lot of jobs available.  Anywhere.  Much less in the place I want to move to.  I was willing to find other positions.  There were none.

Then today I did a little research.  And found a news article.  Which states that the position I have applied for will not be filled.  Because they are shutting down the entire program. 

I guess the only good news is that I didn't actually have a job there.  At least I still have my job here. 

But I feel hopeless.

Mean Mama

She does like me

On Monday there was a holiday open house at Ladybug's after school program.  My plan was to go.  I wanted to make sure that I go to these functions.  I know I have to work.  But she only has me.  I don't want her to think I can not make time for her.

Last week the counselors helped the kids make gingerbread houses so that they could show them off to the parents.  Ladybug asked me to go.  She asked me to like hers best.  But she did not seem excited about it. 

But Monday was a big day at work.  We had an arbitration.  I spent all last week preparing for arbitration.  I worked all day on Saturday (Ladybug in tow) preparing for arbitration.  I wanted this to go well.  I like our client.  And opposing party lied to me -- on more than one issue -- and I could prove it.  I was anxious to know how things were going.

About 1/2 hour before quitting time the bosses showed up with stories of what happened.  They both (YES!  Both) praised me for my great work.  And I heard stories.  They told me the issues that did not get reached.  We made plans on what needed to happen next.

Then I skipped out.  On time.  I found the quickest way to the after school program.  I drove up and parked.  I grabbed my coat and took a brisk walk (only partially because it was so flipping cold out) up to the front door.

And there was Ladybug.  Pacing the front lobby.  Waiting.  Talking to anybody who walked by.  When she saw me walk in she screeched with joy and ran to me.  She jumped in my arms and hung on.  She then dragged me to the gym.  Then the cafeteria.  Then back to the gym.  And back to the cafeteria.  She introduced me to all of the counselors (and not one seemed to have a reaction to the fact that I was a white mama to a black child).

It was really nice to see her excitement at my arrival.

Mean Mama

Christmas Tree

Apparently Ladybugs teacher is intent on sending home one major craft project a month.  Last month we had to decorate a turkey so that it doesn't look like a turkey.  So we turned it into a butterfly.

This month she sent home a Christmas tree.  The instructions:
1) The tree is divided into 10 sections.  Each section must contain different decorations.
2) The first section must have 1 item in it.  The second section must have 2 items in it.  And so on.
3) Do NOT buy anything to complete this project.

Easy enough?  Hopefully.  And I am happy I don't have to spend money.  Because I have none to spend.

Ladybug is so excited.  Some of the other kids have turned theirs in already and she can't wait to do hers.  She wants to put marshmallows and beans and pasta on hers.  I don't waste food.  Because I don't have a lot of extra food in the house.  I don't have marshmallows.  Ladybug is pretty sure that makes me a bad mama.  I don't have dried beans.  I do have dried split yellow peas.  I have pasta.  But it is not small macaroni.  It is farfalle and rotini. 

And then I remembered.  Last year we created all our own Christmas decorations.  I had bought things to glue on the decorations.  I rooted through her crafts and found the bag.  Full of decorations.  And hair.  Because she had spilled it last year and I scooped it off the floor along with a bunch of dog hair and just stuck it back in the bag.

In the end this is what she ended up with.  She picked each category.  I found them.  And she glued them.  Oh, and I got to clean up...again.

Mean Mama

preknick

I picked Ladybug up from after school one day last week and she asked...

Ladybug: Mama why did you want to adopt me?
Me: (Oh another one of those questions that makes me wonder what she is really asking.  Adopt HER?  Adopt, in general?  Have children?  This is a crap shoot.)  Because I wanted to be a mommy.
Ladybug: And you don't like being preknick? (because she has no ability to say the word pregnant)
Me: No, I never really wanted to be pregnant.
Ladybug: Because it hurts?
Me:  Well I don't know.  Because I have never been pregnant.
Ladybug:  But when you squeeze the baby out does it hurt?
Me: (Sometimes I regret having those honest open conversations about the facts of life).  Well, I imagine it does hurt some.  But women give birth every day so it must not be as bad as I think.

Ladybug: So you didn't want to give birth?
Me: No.  And I also can't get pregnant (sometimes I open my mouth without thinking).
Ladybug: What? (Real concern)
Me: Oh Honey, it's okay.  It's just that my body doesn't work right so I can't get pregnant.
Ladybug: Are you sick?
Me: No.  There is just something inside my body that doesn't work right so I can't get pregnant.  Everything else is fine. (Seriously how do you explain infertility to a 5 year old?)
Ladybug: (After a silence)  Will my body work right?  Will I be broken?
Me: Oh!  It is nothing you need to worry about right now.  Most women can get pregnant.  And when you are old enough I am sure you will have babies (and I am sure she would think there was nothing worse in the world then not being able to have a baby)

So here is what I accomplished that day:
1) My child thinks I am sick/broken.
2) She thinks giving birth hurts.
3) She is afraid that she might end up sick/broken.

Yeah, another good mama day.  NOT!

Mean Mama

my new puppy

As I finished my other post today, and I was reading it to see if I had made any really stupid comments, something caught my attention out of the corner of my eye.  So I casually glanced in that direction.  And I saw something crawl across the room.  Toward my cedar chest.

It was a bit of a blur.  And it crawled under the cedar chest before I got a good look at it.  But I knew what it was.  So instead of ignoring it... instead of checking it out... I first made a side trip.  I went to the laundry room.  And armed myself.  I came out with the most deadly weapon I know of.  A tall purple can.  Roach killer.

I went back to the living room and got down on my hands and knees.  Only to discover that apparently I don't spend much time on my knees.  It hurts to kneel on my knees.  So I got down on my belly.  And hoped that the thing had not climbed the stairs up to the bedrooms while I was arming myself.  In the shadows of the cedar chest I saw a little movement in the back.  So I waited.  I stalked.  I ... soon realized that if I was going to strike at some point I was not really in the prime position to attack and protect myself at the same time.  Let's face it -- I am too big to move fast from prone on the floor to up on my feet.

So I got on my feet and waited.  Waited...  I could out wait a roach.  And eventually it ventured out into the open.  And I had one thought.

That thing is the size of a small dog.

But I am the size of a small elephant.  So I pointed and I shot.

And it charged me.  I mean really charged.  Ran full force at me. 

So I stumbled backwards.  Almost lost my footing.  Tried to jump onto the couch.  Missed.  Almost fell.  scrambled up onto the couch.  Pointed and shot again. 

It turned tail and ran.  I hopped off the couch and charged after it.  Spraying the entire time.  And finally it died.

Mean Mama

How do I get into these conversations?

Really??

I was sitting here.  Minding my own business.  Playing on my computer.  Avoiding the work that must be done.

Avoiding the clean laundry thrown on the kitchen table that needs to be folded and prevented us from having dinner like a normal family (or maybe that should read abnormal family?).

Avoiding the bills piling up on my desk that are now past due and I must pay.  Soon!

Avoiding taking the clean dishes out of the dish washer.  Why did I ever think I would stay on top of doing dishes if I had a dishwasher?

Avoiding the pile of dishes now stacked (not so neatly) in the sink and is threatening to spill out on the counters at any moment.

Avoiding vacuuming -- well, because, nobody is coming to our house soon so why bother.

Avoiding putting a cute complicated hairstyle on head -- simple and out of the way would have to do for tonight.

I was successfully avoiding everything.  But there was no way I was going to avoid what was about to happen next.

Ladybug:  Mama who is in charge of of the world?
Me: (I know where this is heading.  I need to say the right thing.  Or at least not say the wrong thing.)  The whole world?
Ladybug:  Yes, who controls the world?
Me: (Yep, here we go.  Do not put your own beliefs on her!)  Well, who do you think controls the world?
Ladybug: God.
Me:  Ok. 
Ladybug: Nobody else could be the boss of the whole world.
Me: (Well, I know I wouldn't want that job).

Mean Mama

sensory issues

When Ladybug first came home we dealt with many things getting to know each other.  She had some serious sleep issues.  She refused to sleep anywhere but my bed.  I could deal with that.  She didn't need much sleep.  I could not deal with that.

Sometimes she had a hard time going to sleep.  The advice I got from other moms was to lightly rub her back and whisper to her that everything was fine.  I tried that.  It didn't work.  What I didn't know at the time was that kids with her type of sensory issues don't like soft touch and whispers.  It is not soothing to her.  I soon learned that.  I use to practically put my body weight on her and she would go to sleep. 

Strange child.

It was years later that I learned that I needed to do hard back rubs -- not light touch.  And she loves, loves, loves them. 

Tonight I was in bed with her trying to get her to go to sleep.  I let her take a late nap on the couch today so I knew this was going to be a challenge.  So I started rubbing her back.  Really rubbing.    HARD!  I was rubbing so hard that I was beginning to wonder if I was hurting her.  Her nightgown (which is a hand me down and might be as old as me) was tingling my hand and I didn't think it was comfortable for me so I didn't know how this was comfortable for her. 

She seemed to relax.  She was quiet.  She was not kicking and rolling and moving around.  And then she rolled her head in my direction and said....

Mama, put your back into it.

She wanted it harder.

Mean Mama

Too old

She cracks me up sometimes.  I mean where does she get this stuff?

We were heading out to lunch yesterday...because I had to work yesterday (yes, a Saturday -- only have working a full Friday when I was suppose to get out at 1pm) ... and we decided to go to the bagel shop.  Yeah!!! No fast food hamburgers. 

I asked her what she want on her bagel.

Ladybug: Just a plain bagel.
Me: No.  You need something other then bread.  (She is such a carb baby)
Ladybug:  Okay with butter and cheese.
Me:  Uh.  NO!  How about ham and cheese?
Ladybug:  Ok.  That works for me, Mother.

When did she get so grown up?

Mean Mama

Step mom

I like my step mom.  Really.  I should.  I am the one who brought her home.

My dad was living with another woman.  There was nothing wrong with her.  But she was focused on my dad.  We were a package deal so she accepted us but she didn't really get into the whole family thing.  She wanted my dad.  She didn't really want my sister and I. 

I use to hang out at my father's work.  He was a single father.  It was easy to get to his place.  And sometimes care needed to be inventive.  They had a lot of pot luck type parties at his work so I got to know the people.  I took a shine to one woman at work.  So I brought her home.  Literally.  I just thought it was fun to hang out.  I didn't realize my dad was enjoying it too.  Until the girlfriend moved out -- but not before she cut out her face from all the pictures left in the house.  Really.

My soon to be step mom moved in soon after that.  I guess I was a good match maker because they have now been married for over 25 years.  At least I did better than my dad did on his own since his first 2 marriages lasted about 18 months each. 

If I was so good at match making for him I wonder why I am still single???

Anyway, I liked her.  Like her.  She is calm and level headed.  She runs interference between me and my dad -- which is necessary sometimes.  She didn't play a "mom" role for us.  I mean she was an authority figure but we had a mom.  She was a step parent.  She was involved but my dad made the parental decisions.  Then she decided that she wanted kids of her own (hot topic language in the adoption world -- but it had nothing to do with biology and everything to do with actually getting to play the mom role).  She mellowed my dad in parenting too.  My younger brother and sister were raised very differently then my sister and I were -- I went off to college the same week my brother was born so we weren't raised in the house together (he married young). 

So I like her.  But she re-arranged my house.  She moved the dish drainer.  She moved my cupboards around.  She even turned my comforter around.  I am not sure why.  I am not sure why either.  I am sure it is not sinister but it is a little annoying.

Mean Mama

More on Project Hopeful

http://www.cbsnews.com/video/watch/?id=7108307n

Mean Mama