Orlando Day 1- No Disney Just Dizzy

I now know how a black person feels when they visit Utah. Our first night in Orlando and my dad picks a place called Mama Nem's for dinner. The soul food restaurant in a strip mall about 20 minutes from our hotel (the Marriott Grand Vista) came recommended. By whom I'm not sure but there we were; hesitantly shuffling past a sranding-room-only waiting area of black people all staring at us as if we were lost. Two white seniors, two white parents and a little white girl who kind of looks like the All-American Kid. The only white people in the entire place! We held our heads high and waited to be seated. It was like that scene in Animal House just before the guys come up to Boone and say "Do you mind if we dance wif yo dates?"

Everyone was extremely nice; the hostess grabbed a piece of melt-in-your mouth cornbread for Sage while we waited. After about 5 minutes, however, mom was visibly uncomfortable. Let's go, she said. It was the wait not the company that bothered her. They had caught the redeye from San Diego to Orlando last night with very little sleep. The hostess had said it would be another half hour....until we offered to seat Sage in a high chair at a four-top instead of a bigger table. All of a sudden it was 10. They didn't want us to leave!

The restaurant itself wasn't much. Zero atmosphere. WE were the atmosphere- for tonight anyway. It was hilarious. But when I tried to take a photo of my parents from across the table. Ryan stopped me and said it was rude. HUH? He accused me of trying to take a picture of black people (like when I took a photo of these girls lined up in bikinis outside of my acting class just because I'd never seen anything like it?) OMG could he be serious? I take my camera everywhere and I shoot it everywhere- including dinner. Tonight I told him that he was the rude one for making me act differently just because we were in an all-black restaurant.

Bikinis on Main

The food soon arrived, piled high on the table. Collard greens, fried green tomatoes, mac n cheese, fried chicken, ribs, corn, fried shrimp, mashed red potatoes. All of the usual heavy southern foods. The sides were on the money, the main dishes not so much. The ribs held very little meat and our chicken was dry- Sage took one bite of her drum stick and handed it to Daddy. But I'll tell you- even when Sage got off the high chair and started boogieing in the middle of the room to the hiphop music overhead, they didn't rush us out.

We drove back to the hotel a bit weary from the experience. Tomorrow we test out our Disney World tickets. I got them off eBay and the seller dropped them at the hotel this afternoon. I've read the warnings and posts all over the web. Don't buy tickets on Craigslist or eBay because there's no way to tell if the ticket's already been used but the dude had near 100 percent feedback and I used my credit card. Worst case scenario: the tickets are confiscated, we buy at the gate for the regular price and I dispute the charge on my card. I've always been one of those people who had to "learn the hard way". We'll see what happens tomorrow. Wish me luck!

Birthcontrol

So I'm thinking I must have been living in some fantasy bubble that's finally popped. I don't have a dream child. I have the child from hell. My dad announced today from the front passenger seat as Sage was engaged in a full-blown, mind-bending tantrum, “I'm not going anywhere with that thing!” And, so, no trip to Orlando this summer. I've always known that Sage has an eye-popping set of lungs but the outbursts ended as quickly as they erupted when she was a babe. Now, at 3.5, those throw downs sound out as often as the word NO and last for an hour. In fact, it's usually 'no' that instigates it. I've followed all the rulebooks- ignore the screams and tears, take away cherished items, never give in, time outs; nothing curbs the horror. Today, this morning, it was wanting to watch Dora. Because Dora wouldn't come on for another three minutes and she couldn't wait, she got worked up. I shut off the TV and told her she wouldn't watch anything then. Hoo boy. Screaming louder than a tea kettle and crying so hard she had trouble breathing, I dropped her in the bedroom, told her she could come out when she calmed down, and took a shower. I dried off to her thumping on her door and my mother trying to tell her to stop. I took over and she stopped pounding but she kept crying. “You can come out when you're done crying,” I told her. Eventually, she came out. That works when you are at home with no immediate plans but what about the car?
Heading home from Fruita last weekend, she lost it. Because we told her to let her food digest after she said she was hungry and she had already eaten a cheeseburger and a quesadilla (road food). She thrashed about in her carseat. We took things away from her. Her sippy cup, her stuffed bunny, her shoes, her jacket! She could get items back when she calmed down. Nope. We threatened to not take her on another roadtrip, we pulled over for a brief moment (but really needed to get home), we ignored her and talked amongst ourselves. No end. Then it was her pants, her shirt and voile she was sitting in panties and crying her head off about being cold with no sign of letting up to get her clothes back. We didn't know what else to take from her! After an hour of torture (on us), she literally passed out. All I had to do was insist on her shutting her eyes. In five minutes, she was sound asleep. Poor thing was exhausted. Three and tired, with a pending cold. Of course! But then my dad has to go and say, “No excuses. Stop making excuses for her.” Stella saw Sage in action when we visited in January and Sage refused to take off her daughter Alyssa's princess costume so we could leave for the airport. I saw concern, shock, sympathy, disgust in Stella's eyes as I shut Sage into a side room for yet another timeout while she tried to blow out her vocal cords. Again, she was exhausted from five days of convention walking at the SIA show. I'm thinking of my dad's words. No excuses. Just because she's wasted does not make it ok to sound like a five-alarm fire and you're being attacked by pitbulls all at once.
After today, I can no longer live in denial. I'm calling an intervention on myself. We need help. Even Ryan agrees now. It's happening at least once a day. At home, we can shut her in her room until she chills. We aren't embarrassed because the displays aren't public. Here, in San Diego, very public. We had a perfect 2+ hours in the movie theater watching Ironman 2; she comes trotting out all gleefully talking about how she wants an Ironman costume for Halloween. In the bathroom, she softly says she doesn't have to go potty. In the parking lot she shouts about how she has to have chocolate ice cream. It wasn't a scream. An adamant demand. I told her not to shout or she won't get any ice cream at all. "But, Momma! I had chocolate ice cream with Noah and Isaac!!!" She shouts. There was absolutely NO cause to raise her voice. But she was in the moment I guess. I told her well, that's it, no ice cream. And so it began. The entire drive home was a nightmare. I felt the way I did when I wanted everyone to see how awesome Tenaya was but instead she barked at them and they called her Cujo. My heart sank. But to tame the beast and turn her into one of the most loved dogs in the neighborhood, I used a shock collar. Don't think there's a legal one for children. DAMMIT!!! Sage was once again wiped out from a weekend without naps and 8-hour (rather than 12-hour) nights. No excuses. She kicked, screamed, cried, SPIT all the way back to my parent's house. We all pretended she wasn't there. No luck. My dad put down his window and told her he would roll it up when she stopped. Nope. Just made her scream about being cold and her hair getting in her mouth. She tried to undo her seatbelt. I grabbed her wrists. She spit on my arm and screamed. I swear the drivers next to us must have thought we were kidnappers. She peed on herself, then cried about it. We got home, got out of the car and my parents hugged me and said they were sorry I had to go through this. Then they ran. I carried Sage to the bathroom, changed her clothes, put her in the bedroom to calm down- which she didn't do for another 30 minutes. No ice cream, no swim, no bath; there went all the things she wanted to do today. I wish I had recorded the fit. You can't begin to imagine.
Once she calmed down, I sat her down and explained that we don't act like this; that others do not want to hear her scream and cry and that she's not going to get what she wants with ths bhaviour. Yeah yeah, you're thinking well she's getting my attention. But she gets that plenty without the screams and how do you explain the car ride?
She's sound asleep now. Been that way since 7 p.m. Poor thing's exhausted. No excuses! I'm picking up the book Love and Logic tomorrow. If that doesn't help, I'm sending a tape to Super Nanny. This has got to stop. Her preschool teachers have no idea what I'm talking about. Apparently, Sage is a little angel for them. Ryan says it's because no one tells her 'no' at preschool. I can’t believe that. Plus, I don't really say the word 'no'. Most of the time, what she wants is reasonable or I offer a substitute I know should make her happy. The "no" comes after the tantrum starts. Like with the Dora thing today. I told her she could watch Dora… when it was on in 3 minutes. I never told her she couldn't. She threw her fit; I turned off the TV. I said she could have ice cream. I didn't have a problem with that. She yelled, I said no ice cream if not quiet, more yelling then crying.
I want to go to Orlando. And I want my parents to see how great Sage really is. I want to be able to say no to Sage and not worry that I'm starting WWIII. Any advice? Bring it.

What Should I Do?

Ok, so maybe I'm the biggest bitch on wheels but I can't stand the fact that Ryan can't think or act for himself. It's like he assumes I've replaced his mommy but I'm not his mother and never will be. I don't exist for him; I don't exist to coddle him and make life easy for him. If I wasn't around, sure, he would find a way to handle trials on his own but because I am around and I'm good at navigating life, he sits back and lets me drive. I DON'T WANT TO DRIVE when he can. And, in this case, he can!

His car broke down tonight and he had it towed to a shop that told him it might be fixed tomorrow afternoon. So he spends all night playing hockey and drinking beer with buddies instead of finding a way to get to work in the morning. Why? Because he expects to take my new car and leave me at home all day. Sometimes I never leave the house so I wouldn't miss my car - but that's by choice. The fact that he had plenty of time to contact a co-worker who lives right around the corner from us and who could have given him a ride, leaves me livid. All because he doesn't want to get his ass out of bed a half-hour earlier in the morning?! If I was in the same sitch I would do whatever was easiest for everyone. I would, in fact, get up and catch a ride.
Of course, those who know me are saying, "Riiiight, Jill does what is easiest on her." Yes, to an extent that's true. But I also figure out a way to deal with a situation that makes the most sense for everyone. For example, I don't ask random people for a ride to the airport. I ask around to see if someone is already heading in that direction. If I couldn't get him to the airport, Ryan would park his car at the ParknJet even if it meant paying for a week there before he would try to find a ride. Instead of borrowing Ryan's car all the time while mine was getting fixed, I rented from Enterprise and they picked me up. If I'm hungry, I make myself something to eat. If Ryan's hungry, he'll order delivery or drive somewhere and buy himself dinner before he'd make even a sandwich or can of soup. He's wired to expect me (or women in general) to take care of him.

It would have been easier for Ryan to simply get a ride from someone who is already going in to his office but he's being selfish and expects me to enable his laziness. He'd rather assume I'll come to his rescue than for him to go out of his way and make some phone calls.
This is the same sh*t he did when he got his DUI and lost his license FOR THREE YEARS. He expected me to chauffeur him around instead of trying to catch rides from those heading in the same direction. In fact, there were more than a few times when I called MY friends and asked them to give him a ride because he "didn't want to impose on anyone." But it's ok to impose on me? Why is it that being a girlfriend means getting the raw end of the deal? Is it too much to ask to be treated the way he might treat a friend? With concern over imposing? Granted, the definition of "relationship" is 'never feeling like you're imposing' but that attitude truly sucks.

Would Ryan do the same for me?
The answer's yes. If I needed his car- for whatever reason- he would have me drive him to work (at 5:30 a.m.), drop him off and take his car. He wouldn't think twice about it. Wait a minute! Would he call and get a ride in to work and leave his car for me? Uh Uh. So I guess we can't say he'd do the same for me. Anyway, back to the analogy- he lends me his car when I won't lend mine. If it were that simple (and it NEVER is), of course he could take my car and I stay home for a day. The point I'm trying to make is that it's not about the car. It's about his unwillingness to use anyone but me. If he had made even a little effort to find a ride, I would have been willing to help. But no, he goes out and f*7ks around all night then comes home and asks for my car keys.
I've never been much of a sharer so you can't take my stuff without my permission and assume it's cool and you can't guilt me into giving it over. (Which he is now relentlessly doing.) I have to want to share.

He wants - and expects - me to carry his ass and it drives me nuts. Why are the men I date so unresourceful and ineffective?? I guarantee you that he plans to call in sick tomorrow rather than get up early and call his friend for a ride; just to try to make me out as the bad guy and subsequently blame me for the reason he lost a sick day. After six years, I know that program.

5 minutes later:

Looks like I was right (of course). He just walked into my office to announce he's "going to be hanging out" with me tomorrow. He's calling in sick.
What do I do, people? Let him lose the day and forever be the crappy girlfriend? Or give in and enable him to pull this act yet again?

Sage is Seven Months Old!

My boobs are gone and my hair's falling out. If I didn't know better - that it was because I'm done breastfeeding- I'd think I was turning into a guy. I'll miss my boobs. I'll actually miss breastfeeding too. I appreciate the freedom but I feel like I've let Sage down. If I wasn't skiing so much, I wouldn't have dried up and she'd still be getting all of those yummy nutrients and immunities. At the same time, between the pumping and nursing, I never got anything done.
Sage seems fine with the switch and has taken to Costco's generic formula just fine. Which is a good thing since it's half the price of the name brands.
However, ignorance was bliss. Now that I know I could handle a C cup (quite well, thank you), I suppose I'll start saving up for my 50th birthday present. Renato Saltz did an amazing job on my friend's breasts; hope he's around by then.
Sage was soo cute tonight. We've been taking showers because she hated the bath but tonight was a break-through. Instead of trying to take a bath with her while she screamed bloody murder, I sat her in her baby tub with warm water and the shower going. At first she fussed but then settled in and started reaching for the floaty toys I tossed in. Once she seemed focused on them, I turned off the shower and voila!
Is it just me or am I that weird that motherhood and babydom are as smooth as a puppy's coat (so far)? Perhaps it was my experience raising Tenaya. In 1997, I dedicated myself to being the best dog mom on earth. Unlike other people who get a dog, dont' train it, never walk it, and kennel the poor thing whenever they leave home, Tenaya went everywhere with me; I trained her extensively so that it was possible. We traveled together and when she couldn't come with, I made sure she had care at my house. I bred her, helped her deliver 10 outstanding puppies, handpicking each's new home. Was that practice for the baby to come? I hear all of these scary and sad tales of mothers struggling with their "new life", raging hormones, babyfat, sleepless nights. I can't relate. And I can't believe that I am the only mother not whining. Sage is amazing, adorable, happy, fun to watch and all of those other things every babysitter showers on me. Up until this month I've spent most days and nights with her- movies, restaurants, travel, work. Life goes on but now Tenaya and I have a little buddy.
I get my sleep. She takes two long naps during the day and sleeps 10 hours at night. Soundly. While I watch TV and work. When she's awake, I feed her, change her, read to her, then set her in her crib or exersaucer or bouncy chair to play. She doesn't need my attention so I cook, clean, do laundry, write, shower - all of my normal daily activities. I've found excellent sitters who love spending time with her so I can ski when (er, if) there's good snow or a lesson to teach. I have been told that my attitude and ease have a lot to do with Sage's temperament. I'm not overly protective or rigid. I don't stress. We keep hours that work for both of us, I don't hover and if she wants to make Play-Dough of her cereal, why not? I've got the babywipes on the kitchen counter.
The one significant change in my life (besides the financial strain) is the endless stream of laundry. But I'm handling that too. Maybe my trials have yet to appear. Toddler years? Teen years? It can't all be flat water. Or maybe it is me and I waited just long enough in my life to be ready and able to care for a child without feeling lost, overwhelmed, frightened and angry; so Sage doesn't feel those things either. When I finally decided I was ready for a child, I wanted her as much as I've wanted anything in my life and even when she's crying I find it sweet. A little helpless baby cry that goes away in moments- with a cuddle or warm bottle of milk.

She's got two crooked, bottom baby teeth. The first bothered her a bit but nothing a soft cloth and Tylenol couldn't handle. The second popped out of nowhere without fuss.
Sage still doesn't like spending time on her tummy but she tolerates it. I picked her up from Mardi's house last week and she was on a rug at her feet while Mardi was doing dishes. Reminded me of those puppies. Sage looked up at me from the floor as if to say, "You back already?" She rolls over only when she feels like it; which isn't often. Her big belly could be the culprit. Talk about pudge! Eighteen pounds of squeezeableness. I call her Pooh Bear because, well, she's shaped like Pooh. She eats everything. I'm doing the jar food- green beans, peas, squash, sweet potatoes, applesauce, pears. She opens wide for it all. Can't you tell? ;)
No allergies yet so we'll soon move onto Stage 2 foods.
We went bowling yesterday. Kristen had a friend in town – Mike from REM- and we met up with them. Baker, Bresee and a few others. Bresee said I looked great and later said I was "hot". I hadn't heard those words from a man in a while. That was cool. That was very cool. It's not like I don't get out but I certainly don't put myself out there like that. Sometimes I wonder if motherhood cosmically changes your vibe. It was refreshing to hear otherwise. John, Thanks for that!!
We left the lanes about 10:30 p.m. Sage was already asleep in her car seat. She woke long enough for me to change her diaper and move her to her crib.
It's been a busy month with my teaching schedule at Park City Mountain Resort- four days a week. I want to spend more time with her but that will have to wait until next week. The snow totally sucks and it's not supposed to get any better so we can hang out a lot more. I haven't missed any milestones though!
She sits up without support. Crawling will be next. I'm sure my mobility will be curbed. But maybe not. I've been 'lucky' so far.

Every day, I wake and peer into her crib. Sometimes she's sleeping soundly; other times she's awake and quietly playing with her hands or "binky". When she spots me looking, her face lights up, a broad smile breaks and her eyes open wide. She coos and squeals with delight. I think that's my favorite part of the day now. Tenaya's here too. She picks up her head from her bed, ears propped and moves closer. My little family. We're all lucky.

P.S. Current photos are posted at www.dropshots.com/pcskigal