Get off my lawn you damn kids!

We still live in an apartment. 

Funny story:  we went to the bank to see about getting a loan to pay off some of the debt we’re in so we can one day buy a house (it’s a vicious circle, but we figured one big payment instead of 35 payments per month).  When we told the bank person we rented and how much we paid in rent, she looked at us and asked “have you considered owning?”

My husband tells me that the look on my face when she asked that was priceless.  I can tell you what was going through my head…hate, pure and simple.  As soon as she said that (with her knowing full well how bad off we are) I asked her if she would give us a home loan.  She said we’re too high risk.  At that moment I considered ways of killing her.  According to my husband, the look on my face gave this fact away…noticeably.

Our meeting ended rather quickly at that point, and as it turns out, you can’t get a personal loan without some kind of equity…like in a home.

Ha ha ha. 

Oh irony, how I love thee.

So anyway, we live in an apartment.  I was woken up at 3:30 this morning because our downstairs neighbors, who are relatively new to the building (and oh so young) (hush, I’m aware that 32 isn’t old, but I think these two are just barely legal to buy alcohol), started blaring their stereo. 

I fear that I have turned into the kind of neighbor who will go downstairs and pound on their door and demand that they turn the radio down.  I’m already dressed in my crazy finest (in case you were wondering, Nightmare Before Christmas pajamas, fuzzy slippers, and a blue zip up hoodie.  The rat’s nest that is my hair really seals the deal, along with the remainders of the mascara I couldn’t get scrubbed off and need a sandblaster to remove).  Mostly I’m afraid they’ll wake the baby.  I could really care less if they have a radio on or not.  Except that the place where the music is originating from is right below my son’s room.  I heard the music and lyrics quite clearly from my room…and the living room.  When I walked into my son’s room I felt like I was at a concert. 

Yet the child hasn’t stirred yet.

Maybe I won’t have to be the crazy fist shaker after all.  That would be nice.

Wow

Ok, so I’ve been busy.  Very, very busy.  I’m sure the five two of you who were reading this anyway are intrigued.

So, I had the baby.  A boy, we named him Logan.  He’s adorable and perfect and everything I could have hoped and asked for.  I never knew it was possible to love someone so much.  With that said, he’ll most likely be our only child.  The combination of time it took for me to concieve him and the events that followed his birth mean that in all likelihood, he will grow up an only child.

I was an only child and I turned out ok…for the most part.

He came early.  He arrived on my mom’s birthday, which was just funny.  I was positive he was going to be born on my dad’s (the two are a week apart from each other) but my boy had other plans.  He was also a C-section due to his size and the fact that I was in very active labor with no progress in the dilation front.

I didn’t like the hat they put on him in the hospital so I had the hubs bring one from home, it says “mmmm…boobies.”

The nurses were more like lactation nazi’s, which doesn’t help make you comfortable.  They were sweet though, especially once the postpartum hit.  And it hit hard.  And then it took me three months to admit that it was bad.  Really, really bad. 

Really, really, really bad.

(For anyone who may be interested, I’ve been thinking about doing a full disclosure post, but since I don’t want to bore the three of you to tears or drown you in mommyhood, I haven’t decided yet.  Guess it depends on if anyone gives a rats ass.)

Anywho, I’m medicated now.  Most likely will be for awhile.  In all honesty, being on antidepressants is the first time I’ve really felt like myself since I was about 20.  I don’t feel so angry and anxious about every little thing.  I’m no longer convinced that my child, husband and family hate me.  In essence, I stopped sweating the small stuff.  Which is nice.  I like enjoying things that deserve to be enjoyed and not sending myself into a frenzy of anxiety and panic over the things that normally get worried over. 

So, he’ll be five months old the day after Christmas.  He sits up quite nicely, just started eating solid foods and is strong.  We had a scare when he was about a week old, but the test results came back ok and the doctor doesn’t seem concerned over anything when he goes for his check ups. 

I go back to school in the beginning of January, and I’m not looking forward to that.  I wish we were in a financial position for me to be able to stay home, but we aren’t.  We aren’t even really in a financial position for me to be in school, but I’ve gotten this far goddammit and I refuse to repay a loan for something I didn’t finish.  I need to get something at the end so that I can make money to repay that damned loan, and maybe get us out of the pickle we’re in right now. 

I won’t whine and complain about how hard things are, because we’re still ok.  Not great, we’re not even really staying afloat, but we have a roof over our heads and the ability to pay for extra things like cable and internet access from home, so I won’t whine.  We’re (mostly) healthy.  Granted I’ve had some health issues, not to mention a trip to a doctor that made things worse before things got better.  Got a second opinion, and that one made more sense so that doctor became my family doctor (woo hoo, lucky her!). 

I have been keeping up with what everyone is writing, I just need to be logged into WordPress to make comments and some days, that became too much effort.  Or I would go to make a comment and the baby would start to fuss or cry or required some kind of attention and when I got back to the computer my session had timed out or I forgot what I wanted to say.  I should also say that the same thing has happened when making myself a cup of much needed coffee. 

Insomnia is the only reason I’m able to make this post now.  And despite the fact that my child sleeps through the night, I refuse to take anything to help me sleep now because of everything else that I’m on (so many other things).  If he does wake up, I need to be able to get up with him and provide for him.  I’ve been on Ambien before, nothing good ever came out it. 

Ok, maybe one thing.