It’s a process…

The last month has been one of the most stressfull times of my life. (Has it really only been a month, it feels like years)
The time since we decided to move has sucked. No, sucked it putting it lightly. It’s been a stressed out, unorganized mess of shit spread on toast so thin that you can’t help but get it smeared all over you. I understand that changes take place while making a transition such as this but let me give you a short summation of what it’s been like around here-
Day 1- Yay! Let’s make this tremendous life change! What can possibly go wrong?
Day 3- Are we sure we want to do this? When are we doing this? Oh, May 2nd works for you! Ok, May 2nd it is. Let’s give notice to our landlord so we have 60 days to pack!
Day 5- Ok, down to 58 days to get our whole lives rearranged, no pressure.
Day 7- Mother in Law graciously informs us that she is happy to let us stay in her house in KC while we get up on our feet. No rent, no problem! Oh, and leave your furniture, sell it so you will have extra move money. We can have hers! Isn’t that nice??
Day 11- Phone call from prospective job that started all this. Position has been filled by someone who could be here faster. We know you were counting on this to be your SOLE family income and that you’ve uprooted your lives to be here. Our bad. LOLOLOLOLOLOL
Day 12- MIL retracts house offer. Oh, you have no income now? Well, no job means no house, rent free or not. MWhahahahahaha
Day 13- Nervous breakdown ensues. Copious amounts of infighting between Hubs and I. Are we or aren’t we? What do we do now?
Day 15- I start spamming the hell out of every hotel in the KC area. HIRE MY HUSBAND! Look at his resume! Isn’t he fabulous? Get it while it’s hot folks!!
Day 16- Sit despondent at the computer screen, shocked that our phone/email is not ringing off the hook with job offers as CEO of all major hotels in KC. Can’t obsesses like this. Gotta get busy. Down to 44 days.
Day 18- Hotels booked for drive across country. Route planned. Dates confirmed. Still no job or house. Why are we doing this again?
Day 20- A phone call! Oh thank you heavens A Phone Call! Hubs has job interview tomorrow at 1pm.
Day 21- Flurry of phone calls. Interviews being requested around the clock – You want to talk to him at 3, sorry, he’s booked, how about 2?
Day 22- Hubs has been on the phone with 6 different hotels. Can’t tell one from the other. Didn’t you already talk to that guy? Wait, if you’re talking to him now then who’s at 4 tomorrow? Damn.
Day 23- Those went so well that there is no way you won’t get an offer by the end of the week. I am going to go start packing the house! La la la, throwing shit in boxes.
Day 24- COMPLETE RADIO SILENCE.
Day 25- Where have they all gone? No offers yet.. I don’t get it. Didn’t they all love your go-get-em attitude and witty repartee? Haven’t they seen your meticulous LinkedIn profile and your dapper smile in said profile pic? Where HAVE THEY ALL GONE???
Day 26- Fine, I’ll call them. I wanna know why my husband isn’t good enough for them. I want one good reason why… oh, the phone’s ringing. Hold on. No, not an offer, another interview? Those Mother Fuckers! Where is your job offer with penthouse and millions?
Day 27- MIL is calling daily wanting updates on our arrival date. Doesn’t seem to accept that we aren’t doing this without a job or house set up. Must have one to get the other. Baby won’t sleep. Please sleep. Please.. Someone give this kid an Ambien.
Day 28- Finally, an offer! Slight pay increase, no penthouse..This is really happening! Contingent on drug test and background check. Well, Hubs hasn’t been making meth and he didn’t get caught when he did that thing that one time so we should be ok, right? RIGHT?
Day 29- Family packing day! We can only take about 1/2 of our crap so everything we don’t want gets thrown out or donated. Day spent frantically throwing shit in boxes or trash bags. Bags and boxes frequently confused for each other. Kid ends up dumpster diving to get coffee pot. Must have coffee pot! Baby cries all day, don’t know why.
Day 30- Take Kid to roller skating party. Declare day off. Fall twice, dislocate hip and left shoulder. Should probably be in traction for this shit. Fucking OW! Cannot pack so I spend the night looking for an apartment. There are no acceptable living facilities to be found. Different kind of panic sets in…30 days left…

Which brings me to now… No coffee, covered in baby puke, scrubbing cat feces off the floor at 7am. I want to go hide in a dark room somewhere. Actually considering getting a hotel room so I can just watch HBO and cry all day. I don’t want to do this anymore but I am caught up in a whirl wind with a deadline approaching at rapid speed.

29 days left….

Boobsession

Lately, I feel like my whole life revolves around my boobs. I spend a good 90% of my time walking around the house with a boob hanging out and a baby attached to it. I can’t walk past the baby or my husband without one of them staring at my boobs like it’s time for a treat. For one of them, it is. For the other, he can get over it.
I knew that breastfeeding was going to be demanding but I didn’t realize that it was going to change my entire sense of self. My boobs used to be one of the few parts of my body I was proud of. I walked around with my tig ol’ bittys and my hour-glass figure and I felt like I was hot shit. I got attention, most of it the wrong kind, but I felt great about myself. As I got older, the hourglass turned into more of an apple but I still rocked a tight sweater like nobodies business.
These days, my shirts are all loose necked nursing tees with leak stains complementing the spit up spots. My boobs have jumped from DD to GG’s and they weigh about 15lbs each. It hurts. My nipples are sore and the areola are the size of gourmet salami slices. I can put on a tight sweater but then I have to worry about it restricting my milk production. I have to watch what I wear and what I eat. I have to make time each day to attach myself to this horrible contraption that is supposed to pump the extra milk so they don’t hurt so badly but I am absolutely convinced that it’s an instrument of torture. My hot shit attitude has been exchanged with a hot mess.
I wasn’t able to breastfeed my other kids so being able to breast feed Sy is a totally new experience for me. Don’t get me wrong, I love being able to comfort him in a way that no one else can. But it’s still a way that NO ONE else can. He is always on me, attached to me or being passed to me because he might be hungry. He won’t go to sleep unless I lay down next to him and let him nurse to sleep. Then he won’t stay asleep unless he’s laying nose to nipple with me. He’s actually doing that right now. I swear to God that I am going to create a teddy bear with a big silicone boob attached to it just so he will have something to snuggle with other than me. My boobs have become his security blanket and I fear that I am completely screwed.
I take comfort in knowing that while they may not be spectacular to the outside world, they are still amazing to one little nursling. I am proud that I can provide for my child. I am proud to be a mother, tig ol’ bittys or not. It is only a short time that we will be able to share these special moments and I hope to enjoy each and every one of them, at least until he has teeth.

The Glass Ceiling Strikes Again

Forgive me readers, I have to vent for a minute.

As some of you know, I have been searching for a change in my life- whether it be professional or in home life.

About a 2 months ago, I was called in to interview at the hotel The Hub works at. I did not send in my resume, I never submitted for a job. He asked Hub to have me come in, because they “may have had a position coming available”
Just like the other job, I figured, sure, why not? It’s one of only two 5 star hotels in the area so I may as well.

Well, the “interview” lasted all of 10 minutes and finished with the GM telling me that he just “wanted to keep you in my back pocket, in case other things don’t work out”.  He also made a comment about it being odd for me to work with Hub “after the divorce”… Uhm, what divorce?

So, I thought all that was odd and walked out a little confused. Why have me come in for an interview if you only wanted to have me in your pocket? Why waste both our time when you don’t want me working in the same place as my husband- divorce or not.

Well, today I noticed that a friend of mine has changed her employment status on FB. She has the job that I was in the pocket for.

I am happy for her, but I know that I could have done it better. I have 2x the experience and am much better suited. Unfortunately, The Hub has worked there for 3 years so I don’t qualify for anything.

Once again, I am feeling pretty down about my professional prospects here. Between the credit check issue with the other one and realizing that Hubs job is actually keeping me from moving forward with mine. (I hate his stupid job. After 3 years of begging him to get a different one, it is still finding a way to bite me in the ass)

I try to tell myself that things will happen when they are meant to but will they really?

My Not-so-big Break

Lately, I have been thinking of making a career change. Not that I don’t love what I do. I am completely enamored with where I work and the people you work with. Unfortunately, these bones are getting older and I don’t think I can handle the physical requirements that come with off site catering anymore. It’s to much lifting and carrying of large equipment.

I would much rather be resting those same bones on a big comfy couch in a very large mansion. I’m not getting any closer to that dream either.

As I was pondering my next move an old contact of mine invited for an interview with a very prominent company in my area. I figured what the hell and went in with very low expectations. I didn’t expect anything from it so I was very comfortable during the interview. Things went very, very well and I walked out  with my expectations growing a bit.

Expectations continued to grow as I went back for a second interview with another manager.

Then another interview.

And then another interview.

And then, I was made an offer conditional to a background and credit check. A huge salary bump and I was through the roof! OMG!!

And then, I was told that my credit score was to low and they could not officially extend the offer.

Uhm.. what?

Wait a minute. Did you just say what I thought you said? Because I know you didn’t just tell me that you are going to overlook 10 years of professional experience and countless hours slaving away at shit ass jobs to earn my resume because 18 year old me was stupid enough to co-sign on my mothers car, which was repossessed in 2006? Is that really what I just heard?

The guy spent 2 weeks talking me up to his boss and at least 6 hours talking the job up to me. I was born to run that place! I could have run circles around the old managers and done wonderful things for their clientele.

It just blows my mind that I was passed on this. Blows my MIND! Hub says it’s their loss. I’m still fighting the urge to go burn the building down. (Not Really, that’s not premeditation. I don’t mean it)

My go-to inner monologue tends to be on the negative side but I’m trying to be a bit more positive. So, instead of lighting a match, I will try to keep in mind that I am very blessed as I am. My life is pretty great, I have a wonderful (if a bit smelly) home with a loving family. I am employed and in good health. There are many who have much less.

This whole episode has got me thinking that maybe the universe is trying to teach me something else. Maybe instead of learning how to live in a great big mansion I am supposed to learn how to move heavy equipment without killing myself?  Maybe I should go back to school? Maybe I should become an evil super villain, take over the world and then BURN THAT DAMN PLACE DOWN……