Bad Dreams

A few days ago I had a bad dream. Two bad dreams actually. BAD dreams. When I was in a pre-wake state I had the sense that some bad things were going to happen to us but to not worry because it was all going to be okay.

Whaaaaaaaat?????!!!

Okay so it wasn't just an "sense" but rather I felt like God (or the Universe if you are my dear friend, Oprah) was saying don't stress it because it will work out. Either way, I'm hanging on to that!

We've had a few crazy things pop up this week and I'm just letting it all go. I have just let it be. Well, there was one situation that REALLY pissed me off yesterday but that was resolved within a few hours.

Overall though, less than 2 weeks to move day and I am in such a peaceful zen state that if I didn't know better, I'd say I was smoking the good stuff.

Bad dreams with good take home points are wonderful.

It Doesn't Matter

There are some things that I am sure of. I am sure that nothing I do really matters if I am fat. It doesn't matter what I have done for others, what I have accomplished, what sort of difference I make in people's lives if I am fat. How am I so sure of this? Because for the last 35 years, this is the message I have been given. It is the message that has been repeated by numerous people who love me so I know it must be truth.

It hurts me that nothing I have done for others in my life matters, only the fat matters. I started volunteering when I was 10 years old and for over 30 years, I have helped the elderly, hospital patients, had a Little Sister, taught Sunday School, worked to fight against impaired driving, helped young women facing crisis pregnancies, was a youth and young adult leader, have served on numerous boards and committees, held officer positions on non-profit boards, have spoken at workshops, and counseled young women. 

I have helped to organize picnics for over 2,000 people and plan volunteer banquets for over 800 people. I have chaired banquets that raised over $100,000 for charities, assisted in other fundraising that has raised over $500,000 for schools and other organizations.

My blog reaches countless women and couples facing infertility and adoption. I have served on an adoption coalition to help make a difference in adoption laws, have planned fun, family events that have brought joy to children and parents in 2 states and in Canada. I regularly answer adoption questions and am a resource women seek out when they are infertile and/or seeking to adopt. 

It doesn't make a difference that I have helped people and made a positive and meaningful difference in the lives of others. All that matters is that I am fat. 

When I worked as a computer consultant for a major international retailer, IBM said the country-wide, bilingual system installation project I managed was the most successful in North America. In Oklahoma, I went from being a part-time call center agent to executive staff as a corporate project manager. At one point, numerous directors were arguing over who could have me on their team. I spearheaded the at home contractor project, taking it from zero to the successful and sustained program vital to the company it is today.

Last year, as a recruiter, I increased the number of tution-paying students by 35% in a recession. I was not even hired as a recruiter. I'm damn good at whatever I do. But that does not matter. All that matters is that I am fat. 

I remember being told I was fat when I was 6 years old. I do not remember a time when I was ever told that I was beautiful just being me. In putting together the pictures for my parents wedding anniversary, I saw lots of photos of myself. I didn't see a fat person. I didn't see this fat teenager or young woman that everyone said I was.

What I did see was a beautiful, slim girl that wore clothes 2 sizes too big because she thought she was fat. I saw a girl that never enjoyed her weight appropriate body because no one who loved her told her she had a nice body or nice shape. 

In recent years, people have told me that because I'm so fat, I'm at risk of a heart attack. I can't tell you how many times I have wished I would just die of a heart attack already. Maybe one day soon. Because truly, I have lived a life that didn't matter. Because now, I actually am fat.

Bad Day

I had a really bad day today. Really bad. I was too upset about events, which have affected our family that we had no control over nor a hand in, that hit the fan today. Add to that my husband being out of town for 8/10 days, it being the anniversary of a car accident that put me in rehab for almost two years, a crazy "situation," and some pre-menstrual stuff going on.

At one point today, I realized I simply could not hold it together any longer and left my office. I wanted to drive out to the lakeshore and let the waters of Lake Michigan calm me. I wanted to drive down Michigan Avenue and let the tulips remind me of my childhood when my mom grew the most beautiful tulips in her garden. I wanted to drive to the top of a parking garage and take in the incredible skyline of my beloved city.

Instead, I went home, crawled into bed, and proceeded to cry. In the midst of my cry fest, I texted a few of my closest, most positive friends and asked them to "tell me it was all going to alright." They did. One friend called me and he made me laugh so hard, I almost wet myself. My boss texted me and gave me encouragement.

To pull myself out of the mire, I made a list of the positive things. Then I emailed it to myself and to J. I tidied my home and when I was 30 minutes cry free, I freshened up my makeup and went back to work.

Nothing has been resolved but I am doing my best to focus on the good.

100 Open Wounds

I put my daughter in the care of someone I had trusted. Verbal and written instructions on her basic care were provided. Basic stuff: the dermatologist said Mini Me is to ONLY have showers, NOT to have baths, especially bubble baths due to her dry skin. And to apply lotion (provided) to her skin daily.

For 3 weeks, Mini Me had been given baths ONLY. Bubble baths. And no lotion. 

When I saw Mini Me's body, I was shocked!!! Mini Me had over 100 open scratches on her torso. Wait. Let me clarify. I stopped counting when I got to 100 scratches on her chest and back. I did not count her butt, legs, or arms. Mini Me's skin was rough and dry, like course sandpaper. She was constantly scratching her itchy body with her nails.

It took 6 weeks of intense, painful, daily - often twice daily - heavy repair lotion being applied to Mini Me's skin to get rid of all of the scales, scratches, and dry skin. Mini Me still has some scars. I'm hoping they will go away eventually.

It's one thing to ignore my childcare directives (that came from a dermatologist). But when a child is clearly suffering, at some point you have to say to yourself, "Hmmm, maybe I should put some lotion on this kid and stop giving her bubble baths."

Recommendation FAIL - Purex

A few months back, I sang the praises of Purex 3-in-1 laundry soap, softener, dryer sheets. I still think they are revolutionary but I no longer am a proud supporter. Turns out, they are WAY too expensive for my tastes - to the tune of $135 for a washing machine repair plus months of lugging a family of 4's clothing to a laundromat at $20-$30 a trip!!!

Our washer and dryer unit is less than 2 years old. Just a couple months after it's 1st birthday, our washer quit draining the water from our clothes. Sometimes, I could get it to work if I put only 3-4 light pieces in on delicate, prayed really hard and hit spin cycle 3 times, turning a 25 minute wash into a 2 hour event. I can't tell you how much sleep I have lost trying to get 1 load we needed in the morning. Or how many evenings I spent away from my family so I could go to the laundromat.

J managed to find someone who fixes GE stackable washers/dryers AND goes south of North Ave. - not as easy to find as you would think... The repair man had never seen a Purex 3-in-1 sheet before. Certainly never 2 of them stuck in the drain, preventing our washer from doing its job.

I am pretty anal about using dryer sheets so, I'm surprised I didn't notice the sheet didn't get put in the dryer. I don't know when or how sheets ended up in the drain, but it was pretty early on because this has been happening for months and months.

This was an expensive lesson.

Disclosure of Material Connection: I have not received any compensation for writing this post. I have no material connection to the brands, products, or services that I have mentioned. I am disclosing this in accordance with the Federal Trade Commission’s 16 CFR, Part 255: “Guides Concerning the Use of Endorsements and Testimonials in Advertising.”

Pass or Fail?

Yes, it's another year end reflection but I'm going to be honest. Really honest.

2009 was a great and wonderful year continuing to build our lives in a new city. Lots of changes. I've had a hard time adjusting to some of the changes.

I thought things would be great when both kids started school. I thought I knew how to do the working mom thing. I thought wrong.

My home has not been really clean since August. I have not cooked every day (or even every week) since August. I have not hung out with friends, done an outstanding job on volunteer work, completed anything I started, or kept up with laundry. Don't ask about grocery shopping.

If I were to be graded on every area of my life, I would fail. I did not excel in any area at the detriment of the others. I sucked across the board. I'm not happy with how things went and I'm sure there are a lot of people who are not happy with me as well.

The last 2 weeks were about getting my life back on track. I literally and figuratively cleaned house. I went back to basics. Our home is clean. The baseboards are clean. The closets are clean. The laundry is put away. I've cooked and baked. And yes, I've spent time with my husband and children. It was wonderful. It was a great reminder of the me I fell in love with after moving to Chicago.

My goal for 2010 is to figure out a way to maintain a balance in our lives. There will be changes. My family deserves to live in a happy, organized home. I'm not trying to be supermom. I just want to be a mom that is on her game so her husband and kids can be happy.

I Want to CUSS!!!!!!!

If you know me at all, you know I am a PROUD Canadian and the only reason I live stateside is because my husband happens to be American. I would love to travel home to visit my family in Canada. My little niece is almost 2 and hasn't seen me in a full year.

But my passport is expired. 

Here is the situation:

1. If my passport was issued in August 2003 or later, I would be able to complete the simplified passport form. Easy peasy. It was issued in July 2003 so I could attend my sister's surprise 40th birthday party. Missed it by weeks.

2. If we lived in Tulsa, I could have any of the attorneys, dentists, doctors, notary publics we know sign my paperwork and I could go to the passport photo place in downtown to get a good passport photo taken. We moved 1.5 years ago.

3. Last year, I got a passport photo taken by the only place in Chicago I managed to find who said they did Canadian passport photo requirements. Wrong size, wrong everything.

4. We have only known the people in Chicago for 1.5 years. Have to have known them for 2 years.

5. I could have a Canadian doctor or lawyer or dentist do the guarantor form for me. Only my doctor for my entire adult life in Canada (12+ years) is no longer to be found on the internet or in practice. Our family dentist retired. And I never had use for an attorney in Canada. We have a family friend who is an attorney but the last time I saw him, I hadn't lost my 2 front teeth.

6. I can have a PPTC 132 form completed and the guarantor requirement would be a non-issue. Only they no longer have this form online because of some (insert expletive) Canadian press stories that broke.

Seriously, this shouldn't be this difficult. I love filling out forms, but when it comes to immigration or passport forms, I just feel so alone and hate the process. I have no one I can turn to for advice. I don't know any Canadians living down here. Yet still, I know there are thousands in Chicago. It makes me want to cry. And cuss. Not swear. Not curse. Cuss. A lot. And write a letter to the Minister for Foreign Affairs, Mr. Lawrence Cannon to tell him to reinstate online passport services for Canadians.

Happy Labor Day.