A Tired Mind Blabbers

** Mind you, this was written on very little sleep!  I blabber on about how lovely this palce is, it can get old.**

I was early, naturally. So nervous I left the house at 7:30, thinking traffic would hold me ‘til 8:15. Of course I pulled into the parking garage a few minutes before 8:00, feeling sort of silly. I tried to take time, snapping pictures of the view, taking my time with texts to my dad or to Fil. Even then it was only 8:05 when I wandered into the receptionist area of New York Life.
I was offered help by four people before I was saved by one of the office coordinators (OC, because I’m lazy) who wheeled me around the office, and my duties at a dizzying speed. It was ridiculous how quick I was in front of live phones and answering my first call (which, naturally, was problematic).
Already this differs so greatly from my last job. Sure, the buildings were all new and quite nice. All the technology was updated, there was a spiffy gym in each building and two lovely cafeterias a short walk away. I had my dad close at hand, which was probably the best perk of the position.
However, work was a constant burden at the Firm. I was hauling my work home, trying to squeeze work into the short time before midnight after Monster was in bed (the work I did bring home was usually on a deadline, meaning it had to be in before midnight or all was for naught). Not only was I bringing work home, I was also bringing home to work. On weekends we would all head down to the office and I would try to squeeze in a few extra hours and knock out some of the bulk that would probably eat my face off on Monday. Monster would bring his DS and camp out in my cubicle, or sprawl out in the hallway with his toys and stage imaginary wars. Fil was perhaps my best asset at this job; she did a lot of the menial tasks (creating file tabs, copying tax statements, etc.) and kept me company. I knew it was a good time to leave when Fil and I ended up at the Firm after midnight, trying to squeeze as much work into one day as possible. And yes, I did go in later that day.
Anyway, onto to the main point of this post.
First thing’s first. The view from my spot in the parking garage is beyond amazing. The parking garage overlooks 360; to the left is the rusty arch of the 360 bridge. It rises out of a bright green canopy where over the top you can see the whole swath of downtown Austin’s skyline. The parking garage elevator was the first indication that I was swimming with much bigger fish. The interior is richly stained wood paneling and polished steel fixtures.
Amidst the western hills of Austin is the tall, sleek business complex where I will be employed for the summer. The façade of the building is polished black glass set amongst bright, cascading foliage. I was rewarded with the most remarkable mixture of smells, so many different flowers, running water (of course, the building has a fountain between its doors!) and rich greenery. Never let someone tell you that trees (cedar and pine aside) lack fragrance. The entry to 6200 Bridge Point is resplendent with arboreal perfume. So, it’s no surprised that I stood across from the fountain and gawped for five minutes. After a hasty text to my father (a picture of the gorgeous view from the garage attached) I wandered into the lobby. Inside, the lobby is surrounded by long panes of glass. Each offering views into the multitude of offices in the building. The elevators are paned in glass, as well, and gleam as they glide up and down through the varying natural light. New York Life is on the 3rd floor.
The elevator ride up is nothing but breathtaking. Three stories up takes you above the lush Hill Country backdrop where you can see for miles. I’m not disappointed with the location of my desk. Just over the counter, through floor to ceiling windows is a conference room. Beyond that? A view! After six months trapped in a three-sided box, no view to speak of, and I’m greeted with miles of lush vegetation dotted with Tuscan-style terracotta rooftops. Three months of this, a girl could get used to it all. Except for one thing…
Everyone here fits into two neat categories. The first category is the super friendly, the ones who are first to stick out their hands with a name and a good luck, welcome to the family type greeting. Some of them even go far enough to ask personal questions. Even if it’s all a mask, it’s quite nice to feel welcomed in a temporary position. The other category is quite easy to glean, as they’re the not-so-friendly sort – the usual type of person to snub a receptionist on the basis of probable education. Answering phones doesn’t take a degree. But neither does fake tanning, which the greater part of these people (who are, sadly, mostly women) seem to be top students at.
Nevertheless, the pleasant variety seems to be the majority. An hour and a half into work and things are moving smoothly. There’s no doubt it’s a whole new game, but my dad was right, the phone system is very simple (if a bit old, the phone could easily be from the early 90s) and there is the safety of sending problems to one of the OCs who are hiding behind a very inconspicuous door.
I’m already so happy here. I was right to stick my book in my purse. Not only was I ridiculously early, I have scads of time in between phone calls and corralling interviewees in which to devote to reading. It’s a good thing Fil and I got library cards, because I have a feeling I’ll be stretching my literary legs frequently this summer.

A Long Time Coming

It happened on Thursday when I got a phone call early in the morning (10 a.m., in my defense I hadn’t been able to fall asleep until 6 a.m. so it was still way too early). I was very groggy, and hadn’t wanted to take the call, but part of my brain instructed me to get up and do it.

I tumbled into bed and forgot the phone call until that evening when I got another phone call, arranged a time and got very excited.

The next day I showed up at the right place at the right time and bada-bing bada-boom…

I HAVE A JOB!

So, let’s go back. At 10 a.m on Thursday I got a phone call from a temp agency I submitted my application to the week prior. It was for a receptionist position and I thought it was another 3rd party scam website and wrote it off the second I hit submit. You can imagine my surprise when I got that phone call and scrambled to figure out which job was hiring me.

It’s not a stretch to say I’m disappointed that I’m being hired out by a temp agency. That means this job is only going to last for a little while, that little while being for 3 months. I’m hoping that they find me suitable for the position permanently and hire me on full. I would assume that whatever this company is paying the temp agency is a bit more than what I’m making right now.

However, I’m just happy to know that for at least 3 months I’ll be able to support my family by myself. And when that jig is up, I’ll hopefully be moving on to bigger and better things.

For now, I’m overly jittery about getting out of this job where all I do is print and get hit with a bull whip by superiors who think I’m dumb.

Attainable vs. Unattainable

The post at Creating Motherhood about the things that make us happy has sparked the interest within me to blog as well. Mostly because my response to said post would be much too long to be considered a comment, more like… a dissertation.

Since we’re at a point in our lives where things are very unstable, a lot of things that were once attainable (and made me very, very happy) are now put in the “generally unattainable but might be attainable if we have the money” category. The unattainable category remains the same.

So I’ve split it up. Into attainable, slightly-attainable-but-mostly-not and unattainable.

Attainable:

• Like Calli, watching TV brings endless joy to myself and Fil. Mostly because we do this together, usually sprawled out on the couch like zombies. I could go on and on about all the TV shows we watch together, but that’d be a post in and of itself. Suffice to say, my name is Att and I’m a TV addict.
• Playing video games. We have a Sega Genesis (from when I was wee), a Wii and a PS2 in the living room, so the opportunities for fun are endless.
• Having a nightly shower with Fil. Specifically the ones where we talk the whole time.
• Reading. It’s filled me with joy since I was little, teaching myself to read at the age of 3. I have a habit of re-reading series, like The Chronicles of Narnia (I re-read it last summer out of boredom) and now, the Tolkien series. I’m at the point in The Hobbit where they’ve finally gotten into the Mountain.
• Having a decent family dinner, involving wonderful food and a good conversation with Monster and Fil. It’s rare, but so good.
• Taco Night. We take vegetarian meat crumbles, mix it with taco seasoning and pile on the topings. It’s my favourite day and it makes for an amazing lunch the next day.
• 40 cent sodas in the break room downstairs. The Firm purchases their own sodas and fills up the machine, so they practically GIVE them away. It’s the only luxury I allow myself on a regular basis since I started working

Limbo:

• Big shocker, something that once was right on the horizon but continues to be mostly unattainable. That is, having a baby. But the thought of it, our future plans, makes me very happy. I am calm in our choices and know that it will happen, and that is okay.
• A 40-hour job. Thinking about it mostly fills me with dread, because it’s almost May 15th and I’m still without a steady future. I’m scared shitless. But some days, the idea of bringing home enough money to support my family on my own makes me giddy like a school girl.
• A new apartment. Right now, we’re stuck in the hole we moved into last year. It’s really turning into a terrible place to live and I can’t wait until our lease is up in a year and we can move on to bigger and better things.

The Unattainable:

• Again, like Calli, an iPhone. I would kill to have all those neat apps at my disposal. THEY HAVE EVERYTHING! How fun is that?
• A Nikon D90 or a Canon Rebel. I’m crazy, I know, but thinking about the beautiful pictures I can take fills me to overflowing with joy.
• For Fil’s cancer to just go away over night.

Mother’s Day 2009, a nod to an unborn son

This seems to becoming a pattern with this blog. This is yet another Mother’s Day Post, post-Mother’s Day. And yesterday was my third Mother’s Day.

Like last year, it was by no means, special. We had a lovely brunch with my grandparents, parents and my uncle. We passed the rest of the afternoon by my grandparents’ pool while Monster swam and my grandfather played opera over the stereo. It was very relaxing and I felt like I was reset and ready to tackle another week, and another round of job applications.

I didn’t get any presents, not like last year, where Monster presented me with beautiful paintings which are now framed above our bed. I’m okay with that, because I have him and my wonderful Fil and that’s all I need.

Even so, I felt like last year was more about me than this year. Last year, my son treated me to breakfast tacos after midnight and Fil took me on a long and wonderful date.  However, I understand why that wasn’t the case this year. Fil’s birthday was on Thursday (my parents got her an MP3 player and my grandparents got her a gift card, she felt so loved and has not stopped talking about it since then), my uncle’s birthday is tomorrow (happy birthday, Uncle J!) and there are plenty of mom’s in my family to celebrate. I was thankful for the free meal and the wonderful family time. Everyone doted on Monster (as usual) and our mother’s day cards got grandmother and mother quite misty. A success, I declared.

Nevertheless, I can’t ignore how exciting last Mother’s Day was, how good we all felt and how easy it was to ignore the darker side of things. We were four days from our move and busy buzzing around the house packing everything we owned. There was so much to do I nearly forgot to spend a little time reflecting on the loss of Michael, our unborn son.

I have designated May to be my month of rememberance. It was in that month that I allowed myself to mourn his loss and repair from the devestating physical effects of a miscarriage. It was in that month that I named him. He was the boy I saw in my dreams that previous March, the boy with fat thighs, drooly cheeks and no hair.

I know that I will probably have this problem in the future. That when Fil and I hitch ourselves to the TTC train again, we will probably experience a lot of misery before joy. We are saddened that he did not stick, because he was our first and last chance with WonderSperm, the worlds most perfect donor (he looks so much like Fil, down to his smirk and he has such a wonderfully generous heart that I hoped he would pass on to my child) and Fil’s cousin. If you don’t care to jump back, our chance to use him was cut short (literally, a week or more) when he contracted HIV from his promiscuous partner. We mourn the chance to have Fil genetically linked to our child.

But this post is not to mourn Michael, who will always have a place in my ever expanding heart. I am happy to have Monster, who fills the corners of my heart with so much abundant love it’s indescribable. For all of you mothers, Happy Mother’s Day. You are powerful and strong and wonderful in many ways. If you are in a dark place, or find yourselves struggling with the day-to-day, let your children squeeze in and do what they do best, love you.

To all of those who are struggling to become mothers, whether it be again or for the first time. Don’t let Mother’s Day fill you with bitterness and resentment. Look at it as a day for things to come, when your life will be filled with pink flowers and handprint cards.

How We Got Here

My last post made me realise that I’ve yet to actually post about how Fil and I met. I’ll try to make it short, as I lack artistic stylings right now, so it won’t be well written.

When I was 12 I fell into the world of online chatrooms. At 13 I became an established member of a well known pagan chatroom on Y@hoo. I had a lot of problems balancing my onlinelife with my real life, and found myself neglecting one for the other at any given moment.

Fil, too, was an established member of said room. She’d been around for much longer, but had faded out of the room due to her various responsibilities. We had rarely crossed paths, since our schedules were so different. She worked, took care of Monster, did housework, and went to school. I w as still trying to figure out how to juggle my real life friends with the invaluable friendships I’d developed online. It wasn’t until I was 14 in April of 2003 that things seemed to line up.

The day of April 11, 2003 was rough. I’d spent the whole day in Dallas, the majority of it running around Six Flags Over Texas. I barely slept that night, so I was amazed to find myself awake during a decent hour. The fates lined things up and we were in the room together. We’re both very hazy on the details, because one mintue we were casually talking in a private chat, and the next I was giving her my phone number, laying in the back of my mom’s red truck with the home phone pressed against my ear.

Things happened quickly. After I heard her voice I was so far gone, I didn’t realise it until everything caught up with me that Monday (the 14th) when I was at school. My stomach ached and butterflies filled my stomach. I couldn’t eat lunch and settled with a Frutopia(you can’t tell me those didn’t taste delicious). The whole day I stared at the clock, willing it to release me home. I suppose we both realised how mad we were over each other, and that night Fil asked me to be her girl. I might have fainted if it weren’t for the fact I was sitting down.

Our relationship moved very fast from that point on. Filpromised to marry me when I turned 18 (bless her, even though she was 24 she was willing to wait 4 years for me to be 18) and fully involved me in Monster’s life. She’d never let any girlfriends into his life prior to me, and she was amazed at how he attached himself to my bodiless voice so fully. He asked to speak with me, and had a nasty habit of breathing LOUDLY into the mouthpiece until he worked up the guts to scream ‘hi’ and run away laughing. If he was feeling brave, he would tell me about his day while Fil did laundry or vacuumed. It mostly involved ‘ummmm’ and ‘ohhhhhh’ and ‘chicken nugget’ or ‘hot wheel’ but it was cute and I was madlyin love with this kid.

A year and a half later, after she’d held my hand through freshman year and my first high school summer, we agreed to take a break. Fil recognized that my social life wasn’t taking flight. Not like it could have, because I’m charming and such, but I wasn’t letting it. Instead I opted to stay at home, on the phone with her. Fil wanted me to experience high school through the eyes of a teenager, rather than an adult tied down to a husbywife and a child. I agreed, but inside was filled with so much seething rage it almost tore me apart.

I greedily focused my attentions on a friend of mine, who was pretty and nice and so unlike Fil in every way. I focused on her so heavily because I wanted to numb the pain of our split. It didn’t work, and really I just seemed pathetic.

Almost two terrible years later I was talking to Fil on a more regular basis. I’d gone through a lot of fundamental high school experiences, dances and football games aside. I made friends, went to parties, had girlysleepovers and did a lot of school related things. I joined clubs, got into photography, volunteered with aGLIFF and the hospital, had lunch with all my friends at Sonic, skipped school (cautiously) – I even went to Germany my junior year. I figured out how to have fun. Even though I was so furious that Fil dumped me, I have to thank her for that, because I got to have some honest high school memories.

It was the last month before summer vacation. The last summer, the senior summer. Lots of events were in the works for this last month, and talking to Fil became surprisingly heated. She told me she had a girlfriend and I almost all but lost it. I was so furious with her hat I went off and fumed for a while. When I finally confessed why I was so mad, because I still loved her, all walls were torn down and suddenly we were together again. (Not until she broke it off with the other girl, promise.)

Fast forward to late 2006. Fil’sschedule is no longer insane, and we’re talking on the phone regularly. We both have Ver!zon, so it’s all good. I send her a care package with a letter and my most favourite bed shirt (it says Human Prozac on it, I’ve had it since probably 8th or 9th grade). She sends me a Christmas/birthday present (a lovely old book of love poems) and a t-shirt that is saturated in her smell. I nearly keel over from excitement.

In January Fil tells me she’s planning on visiting for Valentine’s Day. Again, I nearly keel over from excitement.

February dawns and Fil breaks her right knee cap into 3 pieces while standing up at work (she’s an RN on the maternity ward in her city). A short time later she’s fired, her work claims she’s a liability. Her record is officially tarnished. Not long after that, her roommate, who is crazy, kicks her and Monster out, claiming she hates them and wants to be alone. Fil calls in the middle of the night, sobbing. Fil never cries.

Close to Valentine’s Day, Filhas a plan to move in with Nk. That’s here, in Texas. I black out for a minute. And then promptly do 100 sit ups.

A week away from the 26th, Fil and Monster do a dance around Fil’s cell phone and sing to show how excited they are to be moving to Texas.

February 26, 2007 Fil, Monster and Evil Roommate start the long drive from their home town in Michigan to my home town in Texas.

February 27, 2007: Fil, Monster and Roommate had no idea how far away Texas is.

February 28, 2007: Fil mistakenly thinks Texas is small. Outside of Dallas she declares they’ll be there “in a little while.” I laugh, but continue to scrub the baseboards of my parents’ spotless apartment. I go to the store and buy Corn Chex (her favourite cereal), coke and proceed to make sugar cookies for them. Fil calls me from Temple, and I pee my pants (not really). I take a long shower, shave my legs, wash my hair twice, and beautify without over doing it.

8:00 p.m.: Fil is at Nk’s house.

10:00 p.m.: Fil calls distressed because she can’t find my house.

I give directions, they stop and get directions from a gas station along the highway. I stand on my porch with the dogs as I watch her white van slide down the street.

The rest is history. Well, not really. The next 3 months turned into the hardest months I’ve ever gone through. It involved fighting with my parents on a regular basis. It involved walking out of my parents home in the middle of the night with nowt but a suitcase. We fought hard to get here, tooth and nail with parents who didn’t understand. We slept on a dingy mattress on the dingy floor of a dingy kitchen. Our only refuge was the folded down back of my station wagon. I skipped more school than ever. I had a miscarriage in a Motel 6 bathroom. We spent too many nights wondering if we’d get to see each other again.

The reason Fil and I continue to celebrate April 14th as our anniversary is because I feel like that break never happened. We never stopped loving or thinking about each other. It’s a waste of energy to try and remember every anniversary. The important ones stand as April 14th and February 28th. On those dates we celebrate us, once as a couple and once as a family.

It feels so anticlimactic. After all of that, here we are 2 years later, poorer than ever, and fearing for the roof over our heads. At least we’re together. No one can take that away.

6 Years, A Letter

This post is a long time coming. April 14th was the 6th anniversary of Fil asking me to be hers. If you count backwards, that means I was a wee thing of 14 when all of this went down. It is so hard to believe that it’s been that long since I first met her, heard her voice, and fell so inexplicably in love with a near-total stranger.

We met online in a very popular  alternative religion room on Y@hoo and very quickly after speaking to each other on the phone (the date was April 11th, if you care to know) it became plainly obvious we couldn’t live without each other.

The years leading up to this anniversary have been filled with trial. We have been put to the test so many times it’s truly a miracle we’ve made it to this point. 1500 miles and a telephone didn’t destroy us, sleeping on a grimy mattress in a kitchen with no money didn’t destroy us. Shoulder surgery, bladder cancer, jaw problems and dozens of hospital visits stressed us to the breaking point, but we always made it through. We can only get stronger.

This year, like every year prior, we did nothing. We don’t have the available funds to go out to eat, rent movies, or get a new game for us. Even if my mood was a bit sour because it flowed along like just another day, I still felt unbelievably blessed to have 6 years under my belt with this wonderful woman.

Next year? Well, we’re having margaritas, as far as I’m concerned.

My Most Beloved, Handsome Fil,

Thank you for being a wonderful husbywife, for caring for me in so many ways. I would be a different person without you, a person I would not be as proud of as I am of who I am today.

I love the way you roll over in your sleep and unconsciously wrap your body around mine, holding me close and keeping me safe against the dangers of the dark. I love the way you break into an uncontrollable smile when I look at you in a certain way. I love your laugh and how you think the dumbest things are hilarious. You make me laugh and smile when I’m in the foulest of moods. Your quirks that annoy me, make you so endearing that even when I’m furious because you’ve asked me for a Z@nt@c at the romantic part in a movie, I can’t help but smile internally. No matter how many times I beg you to stop, you won’t do it because you know that eventually I’ll break down and give it to you, and you’ll laugh like you always do.

You hate almost all the soppy romance stuff that I like, but you sit through it and grit your teeth because you’re doing it for me. You are so selfless at times. I still refuse to scratch your arm pit skin, no matter how many times you beg. I don’t like it when you reach out at night and grasp my leg with your long gecko toes, especially when they’re hot and sweaty. But there’s a sweetness to it, because you’re reaching out for me and the comfort of knowing I’m there eases your restlessness and you sleep so much better. Sometimes, when I’m awake and you roll over immediately and frantically clamping onto my calves with your toes, you reach out for me with your hands, grasping my body with a sigh of unconscious relief. In those moments I can forget all of our troubles because you need me just as desperately as I need you. I will try to remember that when we argue, because I would never want to lose that.

The other night we rolled to face each other, and you fit your body against mine like every other night. But this time we reached for each other and tangled our fingers together. My face was so close to yours I could feel the softness of your breath on my lips. I’d never felt so at ease, and I fell asleep instantly, your fingers still twined with mine.

You and I have been confronted with unimaginable hardship since you moved here with our precious son. We’re destined to go through more, I think. You always remind me that at least we’re together, that we don’t have to hold the phone or type out our affections. I’m reminding you of that now, because you’ve hit the wall I’ve been plastered against for months. I can see the finish line, even if it is a bit hazy and obviously far off. I can see it, though, and I can’t wait to cross it with you, baby.

Love, always and forever,

Your wife, Att