Oh, the irony.

Saturdays and Sundays Rosco has a bad habit of waking us up by kicking the wall through the slats of his crib or shouting “Mommmmma.  Daaaaaaddy.  Milk.  Cat!  Cracker?” very loudly on repeat. On mornings of days that I work he’s usually not quite ready to get up.  I tiptoe into the room, turn the lamp on, tell him “Good morning.” He opens one eye to look at me, and then flings his body over to bury his head in the mattress.  Today he added to the insult by grabbing his wadded up blanket and pulling it back up over himself before putting his head back down.

Because his mattress is at the lowest possible level I basically have to climb halfway into the crib to pull him out.  He used to be helpful and would stand up for you to assist him.  Now he objects and lays flat.  When you try to get your hands under his armpits he arches his back so you can’t pick him up. 

I’ll remember that.

Snarked Tiffany at 06:22 PM
(1) Comments •

Anyone have a microscope I can borrow?

I’m having another hair-related “wtf?” moment.

Per usual I was giving my hair its usual conditioning treatment in the shower today.  (It’s still coming out in clumps, by the way).  While I was running my fingers through to remove the wad of accumulated loose hair what should I find but about 1 trillion WHITE hairs!  Women in my family don’t go gray, so something is up here.  I know I have the mutant orange-tinged hair gene from Papa Jaws (e.g. this picture), but this can’t be happening.

I know gray hair is coarser than your standard stuff, so I need to take a up-close personal look to see if a nervous breakdown is merited.  If it’s not gray and simply blond, then that means I’m malnourished, which is kind of not good either.

Snarked Tiffany at 01:06 PM
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Child-like merriment

When it rains here it rains hard.  Due to the slope of the neighborhood all of the stormwater drains towards a greenway situated behind our house.  The woods go from being completely dry to a rushing stream over the course of just a few minutes.

Since I’m trying to learn to take better pictures by turning the “auto” feature off on my camera, I used the opportunity to strap on my old sneakers and run through the mud to take a picture of the flooding greenway.  It looks a bit like a prehistoric swamp when it gets going and I wanted to capture it.

Well, 85% of the pictures I took outside turned out blurry because I was too busy shrieking about the cold rain and going “Hee hee hee!” They aren’t even artfully blurry.

If Rosco didn’t run like a toddler (you know - run run, trip.  run run, fall.) I would have brought him outside so I could laugh at him making a mess of himself.

Snarked Tiffany at 07:35 PM
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I love rainy days.

We’re getting some residual yuck from Tropical Storm Fay here in central NC, and sometime this morning there was a power outage downtown where I work.  Administration made us stand around for about an hour while they decided what they should do with us, and when Duke Energy informed them that power wouldn’t be restored until at least noon, they let us loose.  I believe they would have held us there indefinitely had the generators not shut off.  When your agency is heavily dependent on computers (and lights, for that matter), there’s not much work you can get done in the absence of electricity.  Let me tell you, we hightailed it out of that building so fast you would have thought someone called in a bomb threat.  We weren’t allowed to remain in the building to ride it out, and the folks who live outside of the city were definitely not going to return if they went home.

We were supposed to call the employee hotline at around noon to check for announcements to see if the offices were reopening so that we could return (if we were able).  I called the number and it was disconnected.  Hmm.  So, Rosco and I took a nap.  Not that I was going to go back anyway, but I at least wanted to be able to go into work tomorrow stating, “Well, I called and the system wasn’t up so I figured there was no power.” While I was napping my supervisor called to let me know power had been restored at about one o’clock and was wondering if I planned to come back in.  Unfortunately, I didn’t wake up until 2:30, so that was out of the question (even if I had planned on returning, it’d be a waste of time). 

So, Rosco and I watched t.v., napped, and made kitchen messes.  I’ll be paying for the day with vacation time, probably, and I’ll have a shitload of cases to dispose before Friday, but sometimes a little serendipity happens to keep your brain from exploding.

Snarked Tiffany at 07:40 PM
(3) Comments •

Master of none.

I’ve been spending some time lately considering what my talents are, and I find myself frustrated because while I can list quite a few things I’m adept at, I can only spotlight one skill that I’m working towards mastery in.

I suppose I’m a ”Jill-of-all-Trades” as a result of having a rural upbringing where one has little choice but to practice thrift and be enterprising enough to entertain oneself with whatever materials are handy.  So, yes, I bake, knit, and can play the piano well enough to not offend a trained ear, but can I let it hang loose and fly without a plan?  Nope.  I can’t create new cake recipes.  I can tweak existing ones so that they taste mysteriously fabulous, but do I know the chemistry of how much flour to liquid to fat is necessary to bind it all together?  Nope.  I’ve tried to create my own knitting patterns, but with there being so many satisfactory ones available already made it seemed a waste of time.  When I was in college I took piano lessons from a grad student to work on my improvisational skills so that I could play jazz in addition to classical, and that was an utter failure (I suppose I’m too stiff for syncopation).

I’ve come to recognize that I haven’t wanted to devote so much time to one thing so that I’m excellent at it, because there’s so much on Earth to do and I want to know how to do all of it.  I’m constantly picking up (and shelving) new hobbies and as a result I can be generally amusing in conversation because more than likely I’ve at least dabbled in whatever it is the group is discussing (e.g. how guitar strings make your fingertips callously).  Obviously, I have a pretty good long-term memory to be able to regurgitate useless factoids on demand (but if you were to ask me what color underwear I put on this morning I couldn’t tell you without looking).

The reason why I’ve been thinking about this lately is because I want to put more energy into the one skill I feel is most natural to me and make a career out of it.  That would require some sacrifices in the interim, and right now that frightens me because I’m so frickin’ tired.  There’s so much risk of rejection and I don’t know if I have the mental fortitude to keep working on the hope that someday someone will recognize that I have talent and give me a break.  Unfortunately, establishing myself in the profession would require that I basically be doing something akin to having two full-time jobs, and as I stated before: “I’m so frickin’ tired.”

I don’t know what to do.

Snarked Tiffany at 11:04 PM
(1) Comments •

Motoring

I’m feeling better this evening.  A certain transportation issue had me in a foul mood for most of the day, but hormonally I think I’m coming around to normal.  I remember when I was taking Lupron injections a few years ago and what kind of crazy, rampaging bitch they’d turned me into.  I mean, seriously, I’m angst-y enough as it is without having my body thinking menopause is a-comin’.  Hopefully these little mood fluctuations are just temporary and I won’t need to be worrying about little things making me all teary-eyed.  (In case you’re just tuning in - it’s not that we’re anti-fertility around here.  It’s just that the Snarky Momma is anti-endometriosis.  Anyway, I can’t imagine Rosco being thrilled to have a sibling right now.  He’s very possessive of his Momma’s time.  Just ask him what he does when I try to put my head down for a catnap.)

Speaking of transportation issues, I was looking at the bus routes earlier to see if I could find an alternate way home for when I don’t have the car.  The fact that the closest bus stop to the house is about 1/2 mile away doesn’t bother me so much.  We know our general neighborhood is fairly safe and my biggest concern would simply be the lack of sidewalks.  My problem would be getting on the bus downtown which would require me to walk alone to the main bus hub.  Frankly, there are a lot of scary people around there and scary strangers are just one of the many reasons why living in New York as a kid made me miserable.  I’m just not urbane enough to ride buses in Durham.  Sorry.  It was all right when we were living in Chapel Hill because I was riding mostly with other UNC students and young professionals, but my jujitsu just isn’t good enough to be riding on DATA buses.  I wouldn’t ride them without having a dude with me.  I’m just a country girl who doesn’t want drunk strangers talking to me.

We’ve been entertaining the idea of getting a second car (station wagon?) because Scott is sick of being a slave to my schedule.  Frankly, I don’t see anything wrong with him working reasonable hours, but he doesn’t agree.  I don’t know how I feel about it.  I do know that I couldn’t park a new car at work because dingbats like to slam the doors of their junkbuckets into staff cars, so if we continued to carpool Scott would have to drop me off and pick me up everyday.  Unfortunately, Scott has a bad habit of forgetting to pick me up.

Snarked Tiffany at 08:04 PM
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sdf!

I’m feeling borderline depressive today.  I have the overwhelming feeling of “too much to do!” combined with “you’re such a bad mom” along with “I miss my grandma” and don’t forget the general prickly “shitdamnfuck” moodiness.  I don’t want anyone to ask me to do anything, I don’t want to be productive with my time, and I don’t really have much of an appetite, so as much as I have a craving for California rolls right now, I don’t think I could tolerate eating them.

I suspect that my new hormonal contraceptive has something to do with this, so all I can do is wait until my hormone levels stop bouncing around so much.

While my cup of tea and I enjoy our pity party, here’s some good news: the bathroom countertop finally came in.

It needs to be installed, but once that’s done and some paint is slapped up on the walls that’ll put an end to the major renovations of this money pit of a house and we can prepare to get out of here.  (Where are we going?  Who knows.  Wherever feels like “home.")

Snarked Tiffany at 06:39 PM
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You know you need a vacation when you wish you are too contagious for work.

Dude, I’m so tired.  This isn’t just the “*yawn* I’m going to turn in early tonight,” sort of tired.  This is the “If one more person leaves me a STUPID voicemail message about how I said I’d do X, Y, or Z I’m going to run through this building pulling fire alarms to make everyone evacuate!” tired.  I really need to use my vacation time.  I mean, that’s what it’s for after all - to recharge and come back to work refreshed.  Unfortunately, being a public servant, requesting blocks of time off that are longer than two weekdays involves making sacrifices at a government altar (that looks mysteriously like my supervisor’s desk).

I have one of those jobs where if you take a day off people wonder if they should have flowers sent to your home because surely either you or your child has to have SARS, Meningitis, or cramps (my agency is something like 95% female-staffed), although several of us have been known to be at work hunched over, slowly lurking through the halls going “ughhhhhhhhhh” because there are cases due and overdue cases screw up your salary evaluation.

To make matters worse Rosco’s daycare center is turning from borderline-ghetto to ghetto-cum-bourgeoisie.  That is not to offend anyone who actually lives in a ghetto, but seriously, it is.  That place is like a wall with holes and cracks in it that someone paints over without spackling and sanding first.  They’re trying to improve, but the sad fact of the matter is that there’s no where to go but up and they know it.  We’ve been holding out this long because we seriously had no clue we’d be waitlisted for over a year for the five-star church daycare that topped our list.  Now that we have a timeframe for selling this house (as soon as the caulk on the bathroom countertop dries) it’ll be even harder to shift him unless we can find him a slot near where we work (that is if it’s still relevant because I haven’t been fired for pulling fire alarms).

I was stalking the iTunes podcast directory this past weekend and I found a very interesting, very insightful seminar produced by Oprah (somewhere Scott is retching) called “Take Control of Your Career and Your Life” with Marcus Buckingham.  It’s an 8-part series where this British dude tells a bunch of Oprahphiles how to improve their relationships with their work.  He hit on a few of my hot buttons, specifically: I’m so good at doing some things that I really hate doing - so much so that people want to give me more of it to do.  I need to learn how to say “No” so that my job is likeable enough for me to feel like I’m not wasting away under fluorescent light all day.  I recommend you download the series if you feel like you’re “stuck.” It’s free and pretty insightful.

Snarked Tiffany at 07:25 PM
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Wow.  Okay.

Dude, I’m so pissed.

“So, what’s new?” you ask?

Well, this time I’m NOT pissed about Rosco’s daycare.  It’s something totally unrelated to childrearing.  This time?  It’s my hair.

Several months ago...I want to say it was around February or so...I went to my coworker’s hairstylist.  As my hair is on the dry side I knew there was going to be a lot of damage to trim out and went in expecting a massive haircut.  Nope, she gave me a little trim and relaxed the hell out of my hair.  For a few weeks afterwards my hair fell out in clumps.  I thought nothing of it because as I rule I don’t comb my hair, so I just assumed it was the bits that I should have lost prior to the relaxer coming out at once.

A couple of weeks ago my coworker (whose stylist I went to) observed, “Ooh, your hair is breaking off!  You need to stop washing it everyday.”

I gritted my teeth and kept my mouth shut.  My hair has been wash-and-go almost every day for about ten years now.  My hair doesn’t break off like that.

Tonight I put a relaxer in.  It’s something I’d normally do every 3-4 months to break up the forming dreadlocks and make it a little easier to pull back into a ponytail.  I was a little concerned when I noticed my hair didn’t have it’s usual largeness and thought maybe the humidity was shrinking it a bit.  Nope.  Tell me why I have less hair now than I had six months ago?  Normally, my hair GROWS between relaxers.  Before I saw hairstylist chick it came down to my shoulderblades.  Now it’s at the nape of my neck and I can barely get it up into a decent ponytail.

I am so pissed that I could spit nails right now.

Before I saw this most recent stylist it had been about five years since I let a “professional” touch my head.  Guess what - it’s going to be at least another five years now before I go again.

I hate that some people take a one-size-fits-all approach to haircare.  Damn it, I have special needs hair!  Fucking shit.  I guess some people don’t know how to handle super-spirals.  Might as well buzz the whole mess off now seeing as how it looks like Barbie hair that someone’s kid brother has gotten into with a pair of blunt scissors.

Snarked Tiffany at 08:24 PM

It’s not as bad as I remember.

I applied for a passport card a couple of Fridays ago and had my little i.d. photograph taken on-site (the site being the downtown post office).  The spare came in the mail today with my birth certificate:

Honestly, I didn’t really care what the picture looked like as long as it resembled me enough that nobody would give me any guff.  When the clerk let me preview the picture I remember thinking “Ew,” but didn’t care enough to have it retaken.  I thought I was making a “wait - wait, I’m not ready face” but that was probably just the glare from the screen.

Unfortunately, my ”My Little Pony” haircut (i.e. the two distinct layers force you to have one longer top ponytail and another one at the nape of your neck that’s too short to go into the bigger ponytail) is still growing out and my hair looks stringy and will be immortalized in this image for the next decade or so.  (People who know me personally have probably seen my BIG hair at some point - you know, the Patty & Selma hair.)

At least there aren’t any noticeable zits.

Snarked Tiffany at 08:00 AM