The Periphery of the Mind

So the wife needs a new job.

I've known this for some time. Every spring and autumn she gets overloaded with work, becomes miserable, and puts in tons of overtime. She complains about the stress of her workload, and it is stressful and consuming. And I'd tell her to quit, and she'd say she didn't want to because she thought the company she worked for had potential to grow. But eventually she decided she'd had enough, and she would like out but didn't have another job to fall back on.

And then we got pregnant.

And then her boss' improper relations with a co-worker were brought into the light. Everybody knew about it, but nobody talked about it. But now that it's out (thanks to a third party) the co-worker won't drop it and the boss thinks Maryanne needs to make up to the co-worker. And now Maryanne's internalizing more than she should, stressing out over office drama. Her heart rate's up, and she's afraid she'll lose the baby. Meanwhile I'm stressing out to the point I've got a migraine. If I try and tell her she's internalizing too much, she won't listen. She's off her drugs, and I figure that's not helping either.

If she has to quit, I might be able to skim $400 by reducing how much I put in my 401K and paying minimums on all the bills. In a couple of months we'll have an extra $275 a month when her car is paid off. Regardless though, she'll still have to work. I make enough to cover the mortgage and the bills, but it's up to her to cover gas and groceries and whatever extra funds we need (like home repairs or termite insurance). We might be able to skim by on her making $150 a week, but that's still $600-$750 a week she'd need to pull in after taxes.

Like I said, the wife needs a new job, but I think she's going about it for the wrong reasons. Her job's highly stressful, with demanding hours at times, and the company itself is possibly circling the drain. That I understand. Meanwhile she lacks the capacity she needs to deal with stress and social anxiety, and is off of her meds (which took the place of said capacity). And that I just have to try and be supportive about.

I'm trying to be optimistic, and this isn't the baby's fault, but the situation is literally hurting me.

Labels: Fatherhood

End of the month, so have two.

Carolina Chocolate Drops performing a cover of "Hit 'Em Up Style". They don't quite make it their own, but I find it way better than the original.



"Cornbread and Butterbeans" by the Carolina Chocolate Drops.

Labels: Funky Friday

Well, Maryanne and I went for a walk around the neighborhood yesterday. It seemed to do her some good; her energy levels appear to be getting better.

We're planning on taking off next Friday to work on the house. We've got a garage door (and front door) that needs repainting, a shed door that needs some repainting, a sun room door that needs a replaced threshold, some interior spots on the walls that need patching and touch-up painting, and a couple of spots on the kitchen and living room ceilings that need touch up repainting from water damage (long story).

Then we need to clean and organize each room, starting with the garage.

It sounds like a lot of work, but it shouldn't be that bad. Maybe I can get somebody to come help us even. (hint hint!)

Labels: Fatherhood

People like to ask "are you hoping for a boy or a girl?" I know the correct answer is "I don't care, as long as it's healthy" but that's a cop out of an answer. Of course, you want the child to be healthy; nobody says "I don't care if it's brain dead as long as it has a penis". Ok, I may have said it, but I was joking.

It's safe to assume everybody wants healthy children, so "I don't care, as long as it's healthy" isn't an answer to the gender question. I'm pretty firmly wanting a boy (and am surprised at how strongly I feel this way), while Maryanne is sliding away from a boy and more towards either I think. In the past I know she's said she'd prefer a boy, not feeling comfortable with "girly stuff", but I think being around her nieces has helped her overcome some of that. My interest in having a son (or sons) is purely a male-chauvinistic macho thing, so that the child can carry on the family name. Failing that, I'll be sure to lovingly raise my daughter to appreciate GI Joe, Transformers, Legos, and zombie flicks; and then I'll secretly punch myself in the genitals to punish them for failing me so.

Labels: Fatherhood

Spent the weekend telling everyone we could about the pregnancy. There's a few people left to tell, but I hate to tell them over the phone or via e-mail or whatever. Looks like I'll have to make a few special trips. On Maryanne's side of the family she's having to keep her sisters from telling her dad's side about the pregnancy, but they're holding their tongues so it's all good.

She's tired a lot, with little energy anymore. I know she's got a lot on her plate, and I think financial issues are starting to stress her out a bit. Personally, as hard a time as she's having this early in I'm wondering if she isn't carrying twins. And there's still the issue of what was causing her tremors this Spring; an MRI is likely out until after she delivers, but renewed tremors could possibly cause a miscarriage and if it's MS or worse she needs to be getting diagnosed and treated ASAP.

But on to brighter topics. Like hating the pets.

Once again, while mowing the yard last night I found myself hating having dogs. It's so consistent that I feel this way after mowing that Maryanne had been doing it most of this summer, just so she wouldn't have to deal with me impotently enraged at having pets who poop, howl, bark, and tear up the yard. The rest of the time we just ignore them, taking them for walks when we feel guilty for leaving them cooped up. Otherwise we feed them, make sure they have water, and I yell at them when they start howling at three in the morning (they like to sing with far away police sirens). It's a shame really, because they are smart and friendly dogs; they just want more attention than we give them and get bored easily.

We're one of those couples who keeps dogs and never really do anything with them. But we can't get rid of them, because that would make Maryanne sad and likely resentful of me. We can't get rid of one, because then the one we kept would be alone pretty much all the time and go nuts (that's why we got Caden, to keep Stormy company). And, to be honest, it feels wrong to "throw away" a pet, even if you can find them a better home. I mention all this because I've always feared that how we (yes we) treat the dogs will reflect on how we will treat our kids. Maryanne's already debating getting rid of the canaries to relieve herself of some of her pet-related responsibilities. And I wonder if we won't have to get rid of the dogs for fear of neglecting them.

On the other hand, we can't get enough of Flower the cat, so maybe we'll treat our kids more like Flower.

Labels: Fatherhood

Woke up around 3:00 this morning. Maryanne was snoring, which means she was sleeping good. I could have woke her up, but she only snores when she's sleeping good. So I went upstairs to sleep instead. But I couldn't sleep. Partially because Aslan decided that it was the perfect time to crawl all over me and make as purr as loud as he could (when he wasn't waving his anus in my face), partially because Right now we've converted the baby's room that came with the house into a guest bedroom. Eventually though the baby room will be the baby room, and I'll have to boot Maryanne to sleep on the couch (I won't fit on it).

We keep going back and forth on listing the house, but as I laid in bed unable to sleep I have to wonder: how long before the three (or four?) of us outgrow this house? Is this a house I want to have kids running around in? Is it better to try and move before we have a child, or wait until a year after?

Labels: Fatherhood

"Stuck in the Middle With You" by Stealers Wheel. Does it get much better than this?

Labels: Funky Friday

Yesterday Maryanne took the test.

It was positive.

I wanted a second opinion. That's what you always say when you get bad medical advice, but I wanted to be sure that the test was accurate. And today the doctor seemed to think it was an accurate test, or at least his test didn't disagree with the first.

I want a third opinion.

Truthfully the reality hasn't sunk in yet. I mean, yes there's nausea involved already, but as long as I don't think about it too much I feel okay. Maryanne's lucky; she only feels sick in the evenings at this point. I've been ready to puke at any moment for two days now.

She's got some prescription neonatal vitamins. I'm not sure what's in them, but apparently they cost $20 for a month's worth. I wish she'd just eat more vegetables. Or fruits. Or whatever the hell it is that has thiamine. For that matter, what the hell is thiamine?

Now we're planning out how to tell the family so they don't feel left out. I told some of my co-workers already, but to some extent I had to tell someone. I tried telling the wall, and it while it didn't care much less than my coworkers, it was just enough to not provide any relief. I'd go and tell my family, but then Maryanne might get upset that my family knows before hers does. Or if I tell Shanna before my mom, my mom might be upset. I don't know. It doesn't seem like a big deal to me, and Maryanne's taking it pretty well, but who knows.

It's a little scary, but mainly it's the nausea setting in.

Maybe now Maryanne'll actually eat more fruits and vegetables?

Labels: Fatherhood

No video to speak of, but a really good beat on the song. "Converted" by the sweet country, acid-house, blues band, Alabama 3.

Labels: Funky Friday

"Tuesday Afternoon" by the Moody Blues, from a live performance in 1970. One thing I realized is that I grew up with their later, more full orchestral performances of the song. While this version has a couple of amusing mistakes, it also really emphasizes the lead guitar in a way later versions don't.

Labels: Funky Friday

Just called up Sears Customer Service to check on the status of a previous call and got one of those voice activated systems. As it was starting its first tier of options, I sat in my chair and sighed a little. Apparently in automated phone land this means "You've chosen Parts and Repairs." I immediately bust out laughing, which confused the system; a pseudo concerned feminine voice uttered "I'm sorry. I don't understand you" from deep within a bank of pre-recorded messages. This in turn made me laugh more, which made the system repeat how confused it was. Finally I just started hitting "0" and laughing, trying to compose myself before I spoke with a real person. In the past it couldn't make heads or tails out of a clearly, if somewhat tersely, uttered "yes" or "no", but when I give it non-words it suddenly finds meaning. That it interpreted a "hmmm" sounding exhalation of air as sounding anything like "parts".... It was as if the machine were trying to prove to its purchasers that it could do a good job, that it could help me by golly! Or maybe the machine was trying to express an indifference with a level of apathy beyond what science and Chinese plastics can provide. I don't know.

I've about decided the function of these machines isn't to help people, but to chase them off. Every caller who gives up and goes away is one less person who has to be serviced by an actual technician; and inevitably you're routed to an actual technician as the auto-response system is nothing more than a retarded routing system anyway. Sure it leads to bitter and angry customers when a real person is finally reached, but the poor bastard reading a teleprompter gets paid the same and works the same whether they're dealing with a saint or a person in the middle of a conniption fit.

Labels: General