Getting closer

"I lean against the wind,
Pretend I am weightless,
And in this moment
I am happy happy."

I Wish You Were Here - Incubus



Bob chastised me today for not writing in the blog when I was happy. So, I guess I have to update it: I am happy!

He's not exactly right... I have so much to write about but I am so very tired all the time. There was one day last week when I slept in until about 10, came home from work and threw Zoe in the tub and went back to bed. I actually almost felt like myself the next day. Only a little tired.

I am at 35 weeks... for those like me who can't do math, that's five weeks away from popping out this kid. (I actually had to have the doctor's receptionist count this for me.) Because of the high blood pressure, I have to go once a week for a non-stress test to monitor the baby. They strap me to a machine that registers the heartbeat and movement. I'm supposed to help by hitting a buzzer every time the baby moves, but I tend to lie on the table and promptly fall asleep.

Zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz.

Work has been.... not so good. I came dangerously close to quitting several times. Coupled with the fact that I hadn't lifted a finger to prepare for the baby, I was really feeling close to just falling apart. So last weekend I made Joe go to Baby Depot and we bought nearly everything we needed. It made me feel like I had at least that little bit under control. Of course, when we got home, I realized I hadn't bought a single blanket and very few clothes.

Which was OK. The very next day, my family threw me a surprise shower, and most of what they gave me included clothes and blankets. Woo-hoo! But the shower also helped me feel a little bit more like I had it together. I really wasn't expecting it: They all created their own elaborate ruses to throw me off, and I really believed I was headed to a home interiors party. (And I was feeling so detached from everything that I was actually HAPPY to be going to a home interiors party!) Even a cousin from Maryland and my aunt from Gettysburg came in for the shower.

It's hard to get over on me; I can't believe they pulled it off. One of my aunts made blankets for the baby and Zoe and towels even -- and little tiny washcloths. I was just stunned by all of it. When I came home and spread out all the stuff on the floor, Joe commented on how happy I was. I was. I am.

For the first time, I felt like I was ready for all this!

Joe and I ditched the counseling, and things have been great ever since. I think the reason why there's been so much improvement is because we stopped hoarding stuff when we got upset. Before we wouldn't talk and instead save up the problems, and then we'd just go unload all this shit on the counselor. Now, it's quickly out with it and over with. We haven't fought once since the last appointment. A few days after that appointment, he told me he had rented a truck to move some of our furniture around... and I was confused. Why? Zoe and I would be leaving. That led to a conversation about the bigger picture we were facing and how we wanted to handle things....

And how much we really loved each other and wanted to get this bullshit back to good.

I don't know what to say or think about all of this. I don't know if things will stay happy or get worse again before they get better. But I do know that he makes me laugh from my gut and takes care of little errands that I forget to even mention and I love it when I can feel him watching me when he thinks I'm sleeping. Of course, he may be plotting to get an ax from the basement and finish me off, but I'd like to believe that he just gets the same kick out of us enjoying the hell out of each other.

I'll update more soon. I have photos I haven't figured out how to get onto my new laptop to post: Zoe in the pumpkin patch, on Halloween, the wacky weather here....

Zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz.

Powerless

It's taken me all day to come to grips with myself.

Anger, bitterness, sadness, longing to live happily ever after, disgust... I've gone through them all about a dozen times each. I think I was trying to get myself to stick with one and get on with it, but now I'm convinced I'm going to have to just let them come and go until they have less and less meaning to me.

Patience is the biggest thing I'm lacking. I have no patience with all this emotion, and I have no patience with not knowing what is coming tomorrow.

Joe did offer to let me remain living in the house. I got a text message late morning saying he didn't want me to go through the pregnancy alone and that he wouldn't ask me to leave. Lots of responses game to mind, like "Oh, that's fucking big of you," "I wasn't planning on leaving anyway, asshole," "What on earth makes you think I'd want to stay here," and others. But ultimately I just typed back, "Thank you."

The truth is, if I want to take time off with the baby, I'll need to be here. I can't afford to otherwise. And as painful as it will be, I think it will become less painful and even bearable. Like it did throughout the evening.

Joe is lying on the couch sleeping with the baseball game on. I've been up and down doing a few things and finally stopped to do what I've wanted to for a few days: I just looked at him. I took a few minutes and just looked at him. He's just a man, lying there sleeping, and he'll wake up and go to bed and have to check the baseball score in the morning, like he always does, because he couldn't make it past the first couple of innings. Just a guy.

It was good to be near him and not get all anxious or mad or sappy or anything. There was nothing. He's just a guy. Balding on top, getting grayer, getting a little wider in the middle. Just a guy.

Just who the fuck gave him all that power over my emotions?

No more!

I hope.

How did I get here?

"I'm just wondering why I feel so all alone,
Why I'm a stranger in my own life."

-- Every Day is a Winding Road, Sheryl Crow



About 20 minutes into our counseling session today, I took of my engagement ring and declared that I had had enough.

Part of me wanted to slide it across the table at him, but luckily I had the peace of mind to place it on the table in front of me. After all, since he was the first one to declare HE had had enough, that might constitute breaking off the engagement. I have all the intention in the world of keeping that ring. If he insists on having it back, I'll offer to sell it and split the cost with him.

I'm going to be a little angry for a while, even sad. I'm going to have a baby by myself and I think I'm entitled to be a little bitchy about the fact that he led me up to the open gate only to close it behind me. But my goal is to let it all go and focus on the positive. I don't have to spend any more sleepless nights wondering when he'll start talking to me again. I won't have to worry about how much worse things will get between us with the added stress of a newborn in the house. I won't have to feel cautious about enjoying the good times, just waiting for him to clam up and retreat again as I wonder what it's all about this time.

I came to the conclusion that I just don't understand what makes this man tick. He seems to have it all figured out though, and I have to pay for what anyone in all of his 52 years has done to him. God, I hope I'm not like that when I'm his age.

I'm going to take a few days and just mope. Then I'll decide what to do next. I'm already feeling stronger. I actually smiled just a little while ago when I thought about being allowed to live under the same roof as my dogs again. Ah, freedom.

I keep looking around me wondering how I let it get this far. I wonder where the hope went. I wonder why I don't feel more relieved.

THE FIRST World Series

I stood on the very spot of it.

We are doing a story about Exposition Park, which was the ballfied the Pirates used before Forbes Field, which is the ballfield they used before Three Rivers Stadium, which is the ballfield they used before PNC Park.

I didn't know anything existed before Three Rivers, mostly because I didn't exist before Three Rivers.

I am enlightened now. The first World Series was played in 1903, after Pittsburgh challenged Boston to a postseason championship. I think the Pirates were called the Pirates then, but Boston had some funny ass name that I can't remember now. Anyway, several of the games in this series were played in Pittsburgh at Exposition Park, which used to be somewhere between where Heinz Field and PNC Park are today. Three Rivers may have been built right on top of where this old park was; I probably should have read the story more carefully, but I was so excited to learn that some survey crew had actually located the bases of Exposition Park and painted them in some parking lot on the North Side that I was beside myself. I mean, I grew up here, but I never heard of such nonsense!

I walked over... it's practically outside the back door of the building I work in. And it wasn't hard to find. There were the bases, painted in the parking lot. The site of the first World Series. And I stood there at home plate. How cool is that? Any idiot can go over and stand in the same spot. Tailgaters park on top of the site all the time and probably never realize what it is they are pissing onto.


The worn paint marking where home plate was in Exposition Park.

I had taken Joe over to the parking lot with me to check it out, and he was skeptical. "I bet it's some wiffle ball thing." Back at the office I dug up some actual proof. You can read more about it here. If I remember, I'll come back and link to our story when it's published.

Joe is a baseball buff and he's never heard of these marked bases. In fact, I haven't been able to find anyone who knows about this. Nor do I understand why I'm so fascinated by it, since I couldn't care less about baseball. Though I did go to a couple of games this season, including the last Pirates game, when Freddy Sanchez secured the batting title. And that's way more than I need to be knowing about baseball.

While I was sad to see Three Rivers go, my first trip to PNC Park left me super-impressed:



It is a marvel in its time, much like Exposition Park was for its time.

The Pirates, by the way, lost that first World Series.

The honeymoon is over

"I decided long ago never to walk in anyone's shadows.
If I fail, if I succeed, at least I live as I believe."

-- Greatest Love of All, Whitney Houston



I came home from work last night and fell asleep. I was exhausted! Going to work takes it all out of me.

When I woke up, Joe was feeding Zoe dinner. He seemed irritated, but when I asked him what was wrong, he told me nothing. In his passive-aggressive way, he did little things all night that were designed to irritate me, but he still denied anything was wrong. We ended up watching the Steelers game in separate parts of the house.

After the Steelers tanked, I went upstairs. Joe was already asleep, with the TV and the lights off. I got ready for bed and climbed in. And, he woke. And left for a while. When he came back upstairs, he was fuming about a missing flashlight. "It was in the basket in the bathroom. Where did it go???"

"What do you need a flashlight for?" I asked him.

"What does that matter? If I put something somewhere, it should stay there. No one needs to be touching my stuff."

I knew where he was going with this, but he didn't quite go there. He was pissed because Zoe made off with his flashlight. But he had been pissed about something all night. It couldn't be the flashlight.

"Well, put your stuff where she can't get to it if you don't want her touching it," I said. He had already rolled over and pretended to sleep.

The longer I laid there awake, thinking about it, the more pissed I became. Since we moved back in with Joe about a month ago, things were relatively good, but for the past week he's been badgering me about Zoe left and right, about her behavior and her appearance and the number of toys she has... everything. And he'll say disparaging stuff about her right in front of her. The more I laid there and pieced all this together, the more angry I felt myself becoming. So, knowing we had a counseling appointment the next day, I got up and slept in Zoe's room with the intention of letting it all go until I got to the appointment.

And I did. I fell right to sleep, and I spent my morning avoiding thinking about the whole stupid flashlight thing. This.... may have been a mistake. Had I thought about it more, I might have been able to frame a rational discussion in my mind for the counseling session, but instead I found myself going in with guns blazing.

I just didn't realize how fucking MAD I was about it. And I left there even madder.

Joe sat there and said that Zoe never listens to him. I countered: He doesn't speak to her directly, but instead asks me to correct her. Or he speaks to her so quietly that she doesn't even hear him. Literally. Or he'll say shit like, "There she goes again," instead of actually talking to her and telling her what he expects from her.

He complained that I don't back him up when he does correct her. Which is a flat-out lie, because at our last session I was charged with providing support when he corrected her, and I have, without hesitation, even when I didn't agree with him. Then the "discussion" (i.e. me yapping hysterically while Joe sat smugly claiming he was right on every point) turned to why I don't agree with all his rules. OH. MY. GOD. Because if we followed all his rules, Zoe would have to behave like a robot.

Hey, I'm the first to admit I'm too lax on my kid. But the other day, he wouldn't even let her sit on the couch because "she might jump on it." And you know what? I backed him up when he told her not to get on the couch. And I waited until she was out of the room before I asked him what the hell he was doing. In the counseling session, he claimed all his rules were in the best interests of Zoe's safety. What the fuck ever. How about the best interests of her self-esteem??

Here's an example of my rules:
1. Nothing except water goes in the mouth after brushing teeth before bed.
2. No kids near the stove unless closely supervised by an adult.
3. All dirty clothes must go in the dirty laundry basket.

Here's an example of Joe's:
1. No children are allowed in the bedroom or the study.
2. Zoe is not allowed to touch anything in the house -- including the walls -- except her toys.
3. At no time are bare feet allowed outside and then back inside without thorough disinfecting.

As you can see, we have slightly different parenting styles.

In the counseling session, Joe also told me that my sister had quizzed him about whether Zoe listens to him. He used that as evidence of my mediocre parenting: "See, even your family thinks she's out of control." When I called my sister tonight to complain, I asked her about it. She laughed and said he did in fact ask him that, but more because Zoe seemed to have no interest in Joe, nor Joe in Zoe in her observations. She said she was trying to get a feel for the relationship between them. Or the lack of one.

I felt like I got nothing out of the session today, except that I realized how much this stuff had been bothering me. I stated more than once that I felt like Joe was backing me into a corner with his ultimatums on how I handle Zoe in regard to the rules he wants set and enforced, especially when 1. I don't agree with most of them and 2. he isn't willing to "look like a bad guy," as he says, and try handling his wants himself. But considering I spent most of the session barking and swearing and yelling, I'm not sure if my communication was at all effective.

We have another appointment in a week. So far, 12 hours after this one, we haven't spoken a word to each other.

It should be a fun week.

Happy Labor Day

The past few weeks have been busy as hell. We moved back to Joe's, Zoe started kindergarten, work got nuts before Pittsburgh's mayor finally died, and Zoe turned five!


Zoe celebrates her graduation from preschool.


The first day of school: Zoe gets right on the bus and waves bye to Mom.


A birthday picnic at Pap Pap's house!


Zoe snaps photos around the house.

With all the recent stress, I'm so glad there was an extra day off this weekend. I don't know how I would have been able to keep going without it.

Work vs. play vs. work

"As sure as night is dark and day is light,
I keep you on my mind both day and night,
And happiness I've known proves that it's right.
Because you're mine, I walk the line."

-- I Walk the Line, Johnny Cash



I was all over my calendar today... marking up everything from car appointments to next year's camping trip with my cousins. Coincidentally, my boss had me double-checking my vacation days spent, which turned out to be a good idea; he had marked down Saturdays and Sundays -- my days off -- that were counting against me.

Emails were flying around work with various invitations to this and that, going-away parties, gallery receptions, company picnics, NFL exhibition games. This must be the busy social season in Pittsburgh: hurry up and do stuff before it starts snowing.

Joe came over and asked about me attending a city editor's going-away party, hosted by another editor and his wife. I had gotten that invitation in a mass email but promptly dismissed it: It was an editor I had barely exchanged words with. I know that Joe is close to few in the newsroom and these guys... are pretty much them. But I never expected he'd want to drag me along to this event.

In fact, it hit me like a ton of bricks when he asked me.

Joe is an extremely private person. In fact, last weekend, he told his parents for the first time about us having a child together. And as far as work goes, I figure a lot of people probably have put two and two together about us: High-ranking editor involved with young new hire -- and whoa, she's pregnant. But only a few close to Joe have confirmed with him our relationship, and no one I work with directly has even had the balls to hint about the rumors being true.

I noticed even The Editor has had me in his office only once since I became obviously swelled.

Joe and I have been getting along fabulously, so this isn't about any skepticism or trepidation I might have about our future. In fact, I have seen enormous changes in our relationship since our separation, which I think served as more of a wake-up call for us to get out of our short-lived dreamy new-relationship fuzz and get on with reality than it signaled any underlying deal-breaking obstacles. If I had any doubts at all about being in love with him before the separation, they are gone now.

But.... publicly outing ourselves... with coworkers...

....who are reporters and editors... and unnaturally curious....

I KNOW this is a case of me paying more attention to the circumstances than any of my coworkers would dare spend more than a few moments thinking about, but I just imagine me making a total fool of myself, or Joe, when these people are really his social circle and not mine. Or slightly worse, that I'll bear witness to them making fools of themselves. Or that my working relationship will change with them, for better or for worse.

Too much thought, I know. I should just go, and hang on the arm of my loved one and let people get over the fact that we're so damn scandalous yet so damn normal.

AC, or no AC

"Don't you know it's a pity
That the days can't be like the nights
In the summer, in the city"

-- Summer in the City, Lovin' Spoonful




We had a few days of heat, heat, heat. But then, as suddenly as it came, and lingered, and lulled, it was gone. It still heats up during the day, but it drops to the high 50s at night.



On Friday before school, Zoe declared she was cold. She went to school in hat and gloves... kept them on for outings for much of the weekend.

It's still August here. It's still August everywhere else, right?