...That's What She Said

I honestly cannot remember how Jason and I discovered the television show that I'm about to describe. It's on CMT and hosted by Tom Arnold, so you wouldn't think it would be something found on our DVR. However, My Big Redneck Wedding is fast becoming a weekly favorite. I think after watching nearly ten episodes of it, my once upon a time dream of a Vegas wedding seems a lot less trashy. However, Jason still won't budge on that and we're currently locating local venues and getting ready to make appointments for viewing and pricing. That's right… a save-the-date magnet will be in your near future. Until then, I will have to struggle with Jason to prevent him from stealing ideas from the show. Previous to becoming a fan, I don't think Jason put much thought into whether or not he'd like to write his own vows. Of course now, he cracks up laughing at the thought of quoting such gems as, "On this day, I thee wed. I love you more than garlic bread," and "I'm so happy you're gonna be my wife, I love you more than my Ginsu knife." Yup… those are real, I'm not making this up. Other favorite moments include a guy who collected raccoon penises (because they're made of ivory… see, you learn something new every day) and wanted one on every table as part of the centerpieces… the couple who tried to write "Just Hitched" upside down on the trunk of their car because they wanted to drive off a ramp and flip it over after saying their I do's, but messed up and put the "C" upside down and backwards… the jello shot wedding cake… the beer can wedding cake… a septic tank company owner who passed out "poop-ons" (coupons for service) at his reception… a groom who put on the new white wife-beater he planned to wear for the ceremony and had his friends draw a bow tie and buttons on it with a sharpie while he was complaining to them, "I don't want it to be too formal"… the bride who had her husband-to-be's driver's license polyurethaned into a belt buckle as a wedding present (so he wouldn't loose it at the bar)… and the couple who reserved a camper for their wedding night with a sign above the door that read, "Honeymoon Sweet". Again, I'm not making this stuff up. While I'm glad that the show is helping Jason and I get in the spirit of planning our own big day… I'm a little afraid of his love of themes and the danger that now exists thanks to rednecks across the county just dying to get on TV. So, my dear friends… if while discussing our future plans you hear Jason saying anything along the lines of "homemade iced tea fountain", "mud wrestling" or "toilet seat horseshoes" please let me know so that I can smack him.

This year's holiday season seemed to have a theme… and I'm not making reference to the Miami theme of our annual Christmas party. We watched Home Alone while trimming the tree, Catch Me If You Can with the parents Christmas night and sat through Valkyrie at the theatre the day after Christmas. The first two are obvious depictions of theft and the third had more to do with lies and deception within the Nazi party. I can't say that Tom Cruise's performance moved me one way or the other, but the first two DVD Christmas classics typically always give me the warm fuzzies despite the breaking & entering and check fraud. What caused the exact opposite of a case of holiday cheer was the real life criminal activity that I encountered on the Monday prior to Christ's birthday.

My first mistake was hiring a part time nanny to care for Jackson via an ad on Craigslist. Even though I met her back in October, found her to be sweet, cheerful and wonderful with children… and even though I had my previous employer run a background check on her before finding out I was laid off from work… it was still a very bad choice. Anyway, I had to postpone hiring her until my first day at my present job on December 8th. With Old Man Winter causing work to be slow for Jason, we only needed her for about 7 hours, two days a week. Things seemed to be going well. She showed up at the house early so that Jason could leave the baby in her care while he got ready and left for work and then waited for me to get home to give me updates of how many times Jackson ate, got a diaper change and slept. She lived less than 2 minutes away in an apartment with her 4 year old son and boyfriend. Given the fact that she could walk to our house and only needed part time cash to supplement what her boyfriend brought home (or so she said), it seemed like the perfect situation. Since our first meeting in October, she apparently found out she was pregnant again. Knowing financial struggle all to well, the new mother in me wanted to reach out and help her family. In addition to paying her $50 a week for her services, I gave her a ton of unused diapers and clothing that Jackson had grown out of. I talked to Jason about giving them a gift card for Christmas. By the end of the second week, something didn't feel right. Suddenly, the boyfriend was stopping by to eat lunch with her on our couch while Jackson was left alone in his crib. She started bringing her 4 year old with her. She was rushing out to leave before I'd barely gotten through the door at 5:15. I'd noticed that a white gold necklace with a tanzanite stone was not in my jewelry box. I'd worn it recently and thought that perhaps I'd taken it off somewhere due to the baby latching onto anything he could get his hands on… or maybe he'd grabbed the chain, breaking it and I'd find it on the rug one day while cleaning. I didn't think much of it at first. Then, I was getting ready for work the Monday before Christmas and opened my jewelry box with the intention of wearing my opal Kabana necklace when I realized that was missing as well. Frantically, I took inventory. Four necklaces (with their respective pendants) and a ring were gone. Each piece had diamonds, all were gifts from my mother and none of it was cheap. My heart sunk. I did not want to believe that someone I trusted, someone I wanted to help… may have stolen from me. I went to work and decided not to alert Jason right away. This was the first day of the nanny's third week. We didn't have anyone else to watch the baby and I didn't want Jason to worry and stay home, skipping some of his client's landscaping because of it. Jason needed to go to work. We needed the money. Plus, I wanted to talk to this woman myself. Shortly before lunch time I received a text message from Jason asking if I'd taken all of the cash out of his wallet. Crap. This was the nail in the coffin. It had to be the nanny. Reluctantly, I texted him back about the jewelry and told him that I'd confront her that night. Then I called the police department and scheduled a visit from an officer around the time I'd be arriving home from the office.

After a sickening day of planning my speech and being upset over what I'd have to do, I pulled into the driveway and opened my front door. I put a halt to the routine baby update from the nanny and said that I needed to ask her about something. She said if it was about watching Jackson after her own baby was born, then she hoped we would let her. Instead I told her that there was no easy way to bring up the subject, so I simply advised that some jewelry was missing out of my jewelry box. She acted shocked. She asked how that ever could have happened. I asked her if she'd let anyone in the house while we weren't home or if she'd left the house unlocked for any amount of time in which someone we didn't know could have entered. Her answer was no. I then let her know that an officer would be stopping by to take statements from both of us since she was in the house when this most likely happened… and within 30 seconds of the words coming out of my mouth, a policeman walked through the door, followed by Jason. The officer was polite to everyone, sensed that I was uncomfortable and took over the situation. He advised the nanny that she could not leave until he'd gotten everyone's statements despite her excuses, pleas and emotional outbursts. After questioning me privately, he returned his attention to the nanny, letting her know she was a suspect and reading her the Miranda Rights. As he questioned Jason about the money missing from his wallet, the nanny tried to talk to me. She said she couldn't believe that we thought it was her. She began to cry and say she was having contractions. Suddenly, she claimed her son needed his medication and she called her mother to pick her up. Then she asked for her pay for the day. I explained that the cash Jason was going to pay her with was missing from his wallet. She said she couldn't believe that we weren't going to pay her and that we were horrible for depriving her of much needed money. She told us she'd be by the next day to collect her $25. On her way out of the door, she tearfully exclaimed that she couldn't believe what we were accusing her of and once her name was cleared, she wanted an apology from me. Jason did not allow her to say goodbye to Jackson. Then the officer explained what would happen next regarding my case being assigned to a detective and eventually getting a call from someone once information was obtained. He also advised us that we didn't have to pay her the $25.

Much to my surprise, the officer was on my doorstep the next evening with photos from a surveillance camera at a local pawn shop revealing the nanny pawing my jewelry and actual photos of all of my missing jewelry. For over $2,000 worth of my white gold, the pawn shop gave her $200. They had her name, driver's license and fingerprint on file along with a log sheet of all the jewelry she'd been pawning since early October. The day she pawned my jewelry was December 8th… her first day on the job! She had the audacity to return to our house four more times and lie to our faces. I was astounded. I then informed the officer that something else was missing, but I hadn't noticed at first because this item was not in my jewelry box. Instead, the brand new wedding band (that I'd never worn) was in its ring box with price tags still attached was hidden behind my make up on a shelf in the master bathroom. The ring and its box were gone. We reviewed the pawn shop log and it was not among the items pawned. There were two different wedding rings on the list in October, but she hadn't been in my house at that time. I had little hope of getting my ring back, but I gave the officer a photo of it anyway. He promised to look for it. Then he explained that in order to get my other jewelry back from the pawn shop, I'd have to pay the $200 that they gave to the nanny so they wouldn't loose out on the money. Once she goes to court for the charges of grand theft and dealing in stolen goods, the judge will order her to pay me back. In addition to never seeing my wedding band again, I didn't harbor much hope for restitution, either. At least the rest of my jewelry was found and it was on hold by the police department… so there were no worries about it being sold to someone else while I saved up the dough.

Christmas and our selection of themed holiday movies came and went… and then the same police officer knocked on my door the night after. As he stepped through the threshold, he held out a ring and asked if it was mine. With a smile, I asked how he found it. He said that he just came from her apartment and she'd been wearing it when she answered the door! She told him that it was her engagement ring, which had been a gift from her boyfriend for Christmas. When asked to produce a receipt and informed that I'd given the officer photos and paperwork on a missing ring that looked a lot like the one on ring finger, she handed it to him and said, "Just take this and tell her it's hers." Of course, she was then presented with all of the evidence against her which caused her to break down and write a confession. As the officer was writing up another form to add my lost and found wedding band to the case information, he handed me her confession and remarked that I'd probably get a kick out of it. She wrote that she'd "borrowed" the jewelry to pawn to pay her rent and had intended on getting it back from the pawn shop once she had the money. She stated that she "didn't have the heart to pawn the wedding ring" and planned to return it with the rest of the jewelry. Nowhere did her confession state that she was sorry for stealing, but she did end by saying that she was sorry she was not able to return the jewelry to my jewelry box before I noticed it was missing. I scoffed at the page full of lies. The officer informed me that she did not put the jewelry on hold, but actually sold it and told the pawn shop employee that she'd just broken up with her boyfriend and was getting rid of everything he'd given to her. Then there's the fact that she couldn't have had intended to return my wedding ring because she got rid of the box, removed the tag and was wearing it as her own. Part of me wants to get rid of the tainted ring… but now that the tags are gone and it's become used instead of brand new, I wouldn't be able to sell if for what it's worth. Hopefully one day when I do wear that ring, I'll look down at it and think of what a funny story it has rather then remember the fact that a liar who broke my trust wore it on her thieving finger for two weeks.

All in all, justice will be served. Being a mother of two young children, I assume the judge will give her probation or community service instead of throwing her in jail. If I'm lucky, I might see my $200 back someday. Maybe whomever she was stealing from in October and November will be reunited with their missing jewelry, too. Who knows? All I can say is that I don't feel victimized or hurt… but I am disappointed that I was taken advantage of and lied to by someone I trusted with my son's life. I thought I was a good judge of character, but perhaps my desire to help someone in need skewed my intuition. I almost regret giving her Jackson's things… just thinking about how she thanked me and acted like everything was fine is infuriating… but it's not her baby's fault. Speaking of, I left out the part about how the night of the initial accusations put her under so much stress that she went into labor that night and had the baby early. It was a boy. He'll have free diapers and plenty of clothes for the first month… and a mother with Grand Larson on her record forever. On a final note, this morning she called me again and left me a voicemail, but this time it wasn't about the $25 I owe her. This time it was to cry about how sorry she was for "the most stupid mistake of her life" and about how fearful she is of loosing her kids. She's not sorry for what she did. She's just sorry she got caught.

When I tell Jackson about his first Christmas, I may leave out some details. Instead, I'll share with him how we were surrounded by the love of friends and family and show him pictures of the toys and clothes he received… but more importantly, emphasize how lucky we were to have a happy, healthy baby safe within our arms. With this chapter of life now closed…. I say farewell to an eventful and turbulent 2008 filled with ups and down… and welcome brighter, more hopeful days to come in 2009. (Oh, and along with those brighter days, a new nanny with proper credentials who cares for children in her own home.)

When I moved to Daytona Beach in June, I was adamant about telling coworkers and friends in Orlando that I had no desire to live in Volusia County and that Jason and I would likely move closer to "home" (which is what I've considered Orlando for the past 10 years) as soon as we were able to sell his house. Despite the sometimes aggravating hour commute to and from work while being very pregnant, I clung to my beloved O-town. Continuing to work in the city of my former residence kept me close to my friends who I'd be able to meet up with for impromptu lunch and dinner plans while I was in the area. Then of course, Jackson came into my life and maternity leave began. Since I could rarely take a shower, let alone get out of the house before 5 pm with the new baby requiring all of my attention, I began to loose touch with the city I felt most at home in. Several girlfriends kept in touch well and some even visited on the weekends so that I wasn't completely cut off, but my drives West on I-4 nearly ceased. As regular readers of my blog already know, I was laid-off from my job in Orlando on my first day back to work. In the month that followed, I searched for new employment in all counties within an hour radius, finding legal openings only in the Orlando area. Shortly after receiving a somewhat low paying job offer in Maitland, I was told of a law firm in Daytona Beach that was not publicly hiring, but was looking for a new legal assistant to replace one they were unhappy with. Thanks to Jason's mother's hairstylist's husband who is an attorney, I immediately interviewed and was hired to work at the Daytona office. After dealing with a near financial crisis, I should have been elated to have found work. Sadly, my first thought was that I was officially "stuck" in Volusia… all ties to my former zip code severed. It was not until Monday, my first day on the job, that I began to fully realize how lucky I am. Of course, there are the obvious advantages of saving small fortune on gas money and wear and tear on my car. However, when I arrived home at 5:15 instead of 6:30, it hit me how important an extra hour with my family really is. Little Jackson generally falls asleep between 7:30 and 8:30, so after being away from him for 8 hours, that extra hour with him in my arms is precious beyond words. I never imagined previous to having my son that a person could miss a baby so much. I thought I'd relish the quiet time away from home, but instead I find myself counting the minutes until I can count my little one's tiny fingers and toes again. On a different note, the benefits at this firm are astonishing compared to what was offered at my last office. Health care is free, 401k is free… the benefits are actually beneficial. The people I work directly with are very nice, friendly and easy to get along with. There are some women in the office who gossip loudly all day long and by Friday had given me a headache, but that's a blog for another day. The computer system and organization at my new firm surpasses what I've previously experienced and it's a big office that's been around for a long time, so lay offs are rare, if they happen at all. The other assistants I work with have been with the firm for well over 10 years. As for me personally, my desk is big, I have my own printer, we have an employee who does all of our filing (anyone who's ever worked with me knows how much I hate filing), there is no time clock, free soda (if I drank it, that would be nice), donuts on Fridays and last but not least… my window overlooks the ocean. Ok, it's not my personal window, it's shared, but I've got a clear view from where I sit. Yesterday, I caught myself watching a sailboat gliding across the surf nine stories below me and I thought to myself, "This is beautiful". Then at 5:00 when I was gathering my things to leave, I gazed through my window again at a perfect sunset over the water and thought, "This is REALLY beautiful". Who would have ever guessed that I'd be saying that about this place? Having been spoiled by the crystal clear, turquoise colored ocean and white sand of Miami during countless visits to my mother, I've always put down central Florida beaches. I always thought that I'd be like a New Yorker who hated New Jersey. However, the tides have changed… quite literally. I've been happy with Jason and Jackson, but for the first time I am also happy here in Daytona. My new life is slowly replacing all the bad memories I have from growing up in Volusia County and suddenly I am feeling at home again. I only hope that my friends who live an hour away won't mind coming to visit me sometimes… it's actually a pretty place, once you change your view.

My perfect morning/my perfect man, example number 7:

[Begin scene. I am holding the baby over my shoulder while pacing the living room and kitchen in an attempt to keep him entertained. Jason is preparing breakfast and using freshly picked citrus to make fresh juice for us to enjoy with our sausage and eggs.]

Jason: "These grapefruits are hard to squeeze."

Tanya: "You're hard to squeeze."

Jason: "That's what she said."

(Only Jason could successfully replace the "your mom" joke in my life. I heart him.)

This is my mother. I knew her until I was one year old and then she was gone. I "officially" met her in the spring of 2001 after an internet search, a couple of months of emails and a surprise Fed-Ex delivery of a plane ticket. She took this photo with her new iPhone on her 50th birthday two weeks ago. Shortly before snapping the picture, she got a new hair-do, a nicer BMW, a chemical peel on her face, a third tattoo and a nose ring. She's afraid of getting old.

Several years ago, I was so taken with her care-free South Beach lifestyle that I decided I wanted to be just like her when I grew up. I wanted to work 20 hours a week while spending the rest of my time on perma-vacation in a city that never sleeps. I wanted a downtown condo and a $40k sports car owned free and clear with plenty of cash to spend in the shops on Lincoln Road and the restaurants on Ocean Drive. It didn't take me long to acquire the fancy pants car when I was dating a car dealer. However, not being able to afford the car and the downtown apartment, I gave it up at the lease end. I then used money saved to eventually get my expensive downtown apartment. I could walk to the park and the bars... and even to work if I wanted to. I'd downgraded from an Audi to a VW, but I still loved my car. I had nice things... and I was happy at first. However, the constant parties and noise from the neighbors began to wear thin on my patience and car vandalism reminded me that material possessions are just that... material and easy to fix or replace. I began to wonder if my mother who seemed to have it all was lonely or unhappy despite her and her hubby taking at least three tropical vacations a year and purchasing every new electronic toy to hit the market. i knew that I was. I knew I was missing something.

When my mother found out that I was pregnant, she was distant. I could tell that the reality of her age was hitting her pretty hard. I wondered if our growing relationship would hit a standstill. Then she surprised me. While she did make a number of changes regarding her appearance, she's done something I did not expect. She's embraced being a grandmother. On Thanksgiving, my heart nearly melted as I saw her holding Jackson, talking to and doting on him. I smiled at Jason as if to say, "This is all I've ever wanted from my family".

Starting a life with Jason and having a son has made me realize what was missing before... and I think that Jackson has also shown my mother what she's been without. Who knew that I'd be all grown up before my mother? Who knew that perhaps it was my life that was inspiring my mother to grow?

As I sit in my new suburban neighborhood with my husband-to-be and my chubby baby, I am strongly considering trading in my beloved turbo charged hatchback for a family sedan as soon as I've been at my new job long enough. Anyone who knows me knows that this is saying a lot.

I'm not going to lie, the last couple of weeks have been rough. Applying on average to two to five new job postings every day and only getting one call from a temp agency had my nerves on end. They say that the most common thing that couples argue about is finances... and it's true. With my health insurance only good through the end of the month, I tried to cram in all of mine and Jackson's appointments. I also received the bills from the hospital. Jackson was a $45,000.00 baby... $1,600.00 of which we have to pay ourselves (in monthly installments, of course). Then, late Sunday night as I was feeding the baby and trying to talk him into going to bed peacefully in the nursery, the door to the garage creaked open unnoticed. Some time later, we discovered that Mr. Meowgi was gone. Having never been outside before, I immediately worried that my cat might not find his way home, or be mauled by one of the neighbor's mean dogs, or hit by the cars often speeding through the neighborhood in the wee hours. Jason and I grabbed our coats and flashlights and searched for over an hour for him... until the 30 degree weather had turned my runny nose numb. I cried on the porch for an additional stint before deciding to leave the garage door cracked, the light on and the door to the house slightly ajar while I curled up on the couch with a heavy blanket to wait. The following two nights were similar, except I put a bowl of cat food in the garage, which was nibbled on... but there was no way to know who'd done the nibbling. Each day I called animal control and local shelters. Sadly, my Meowgi did not come home.

On Tuesday, I reluctantly decided to keep my appointment to volunteer at the Give Kids The World Village. I'd always wanted to help with the horse and pony rides there, but when working, I was only able to volunteer at night and on weekends. The really fun stuff seems to take place during the week. Not two minutes after arriving, I shed my cloak of depression. So I lost my job and was worried about bills and my pet had run away... but these children, who haven't even had a chance to live their lives yet, face far worse circumstances every day. Ear to ear smiles appeared on the faces of kids who've spent nearly all their lives in hospitals... and all it took was sitting on the back of a horse and walking around a corral. As I held onto the side of the saddle walking along side of the horse, I'd ask each young rider if they were having fun and complimented their riding skills. Even the ones who couldn't talk, verbalized their happiness with a beaming grin. Two parents stopped me and thanked me for making their child's day. My personal troubles were the furthest thing from my mind. I felt so blessed to have given birth to a healthy baby and that I recovered well and was able to give some of my time to others. I decided that if the families I always meet at The Village can be positive and cherish the day at hand... then surely I should be able to as well.

The next day I visited the humane society (looking at the dozens of cute cats that were not mine nearly broke my heart) and then posted "Missing Cat" flyers all over various telephone polls in my neighborhood. I said a little prayer and focused on all of the positive things I have in life. Less then three hours later, we received a call... and another 30 minutes later, Meowgi was getting licked in the face by a very happy Hershey. Here's the story: Just one street over and only a few houses away, a man found Mr. Meowgi on his porch shivering at 7 a.m. Monday morning. (I was up and walking the neighborhood at 7:30 that same morning, but apparently was not seen.) He claimed to have called the city and finding that no one had reported the cat missing, gave him to his neighbor who said she had a niece who would want him. The niece then picked up my cat from her aunt's house and brought him to her grandmother's house located several developments away. When the aunt called, she confessed that they wanted to keep the cat, but noticed on the flyer that it said he had special food needs... oh, and of course that it was our cat. I decided that since they neglected to call animal control or the humane society, like common sense would dictate and that they'd actually intended to steal my cat with little search for his actual owner, I would not be giving them any reward money. I kept my feelings to myself when arriving at their house though, thanking them for finding my pet and wishing them a goodnight. Since he's been home, Jason has remarked that Mr. Meowgi has been acting like a Vietnam Vet with post traumatic stress syndrome... but at least he's home... and I'm sure he'll be back to normal and we'll be yelling at him to shut up so that we can hear the TV soon enough. (That was a joke.) Lesson learned from this experience: ALWAYS put that your lost animal has special needs (even if it's stretching the truth a bit) to insure that the finder doesn't go the route of "finders, keepers".

The return of the cat has made being stuck at home a lot less depressing and we've been dealing with the financial stress a little bit better. Between bouts of applying online for various jobs to get us through the holidays, we've had Jackson to make us smile. Then, about an hour or so ago, I received an email from a company in Maitland with a possible job offer. It's a slight cut in pay, but if the health benefits are good, it will work out to be a better job then the last. Things are finally starting to look up... but considering that it's only been a couple of weeks worth of stress, I see now that it hasn't been that bad. In fact, I'd love to squeeze in one more horse and pony ride shift with the Wish Kids before I have to return to a 9 to 5 job. I should know by now that any time it seems as though my world is falling apart, all it takes is a change of perspective to realize just how good life is. Sitting here now, I feel lucky to have had extra time to spend with my boys and I know that it's going to continue getting better for us. All we need is a little faith that things will work out in the end.

After setting the clocks back Sunday morning, I frantically tried to set my body clock back into work mode. There were so many new things to consider. Did I fill out all of the emergency contact information for the nanny? Did I have all the breast pump accessories I'd need to take to the office with me? How much earlier would I have to wake up Monday morning? Would any of my old business clothing fit? As I felt the deadline closing in, Jason and I escaped to a lovely family owned Italian restaurant for a much needed break... and I considered it to be a "back to work, back to making money" celebratory dinner.

Monday morning, I awoke at 4:45 a.m. to Jackson's cries. He'd been asleep since 11:30 p.m. It was a miracle. After feeding him and getting everything organized, I showered, changed, packed lunch and kissed my boys good-bye. As I sat on I-4 just past the Lake Mary exit in gridlocked traffic due to an accident at the Altamonte exit, I thought to myself how routine it felt... as if I hadn't been home for six weeks. The normalcy continued to engulf me as I parked in my old spot in the parking garage, crossed Orange and climbed the back stairs to my office. That's when things began to feel off. My desk had been moved. My belongings were carelessly strewn about a dirty desk on the other side of the office. No one said good morning. My password didn't work to log-in. I spent 30 minutes putting away the office supplies in my desk and logging in with the new password obtained from a co-worker before our office manager/HR lady came to my desk and asked to talk to me. I assumed this is where I'd be caught up on the changes and happenings that had occurred in my absence. I was correct. One of the attorneys I worked for had been laid off and his last day was the end of the week. Apparently, my other attorney's workload was being distributed to the three other legal assistants... and that morning, the firm decided they'd like to keep it that way. Due to "the economy", they advised me at 9 a.m. that I was being laid off, too. With no notice to help me start looking for a new job, after driving in rush hour traffic for over an hour and wasting a quarter of a tank of gas... after bringing Jackson to meet them all last week on my day off... they asked me to box up my desk and turn in my office key.

So... I've been frantically applying for jobs since arriving home yesterday morning and praying that Obama wins this election... all while hugging my baby boy and trying not to cry.

Call me lazy, but I am posting this blog first, before responding to several emails in which I am expected to recount my labor and delivery experience... that way I only have to type it once and reference this entry in said email responses. You can call me lazy... though I prefer "time efficient".

On Thursday, September 25th, Jason and I drove to the hospital for my appointment to be induced. Jackson seemed to be ignoring his eviction notice and the doctors don't like it when you go a week or more past your due date. Little did we know how long it could actually take for one to be "induced". The induction was a long and aggravating process. Close to midnight the first drug was administered, followed by a 12 hour waiting period to see if it worked. it didn't. Drug number 2 was tried out with a 6 hour wait, followed by nothing but drug number 1 again with an additional 12 hour wait... but only after a full afternoon of no drugs while waiting for my contractions to calm down. Finally, I'd had it with the drugs and advised doctor number 3 of this on Saturday morning. The cabin fever that had begun to settle in after Jason and I watched every VHS tape featuring Meg Ryan in the hospital's library was enough to drive me to want pain.. to want anything to get the ball rolling. I opted for a cervical balloon catheter... which is exactly what it sounds like. While it was rather unpleasant, it did the trick and I instantly became dilated enough to be moved to the delivery room. I'd made it clear that I did not want a cesarean section. I wanted a short recovery so that I'd be able to go back to work on time. Due to this, I believe they allowed me to stay in labor a lot longer than I should have. A very long Saturday night ended with the epidural medicine running out due to the anesthesiologist neglecting to check the IV bag after 2 intense hours of pushing... which resulted in 30 minutes of drug free labor pains before I tearfully called it quits as the doctor contemplated the size of the baby's head vs. the span of my pelvis. That last half hour before the newly administered epidural meds kicked in was by far the worst pain I could have ever possibly imagined. I honestly cannot believe that some women opt to go through the entire experience naturally... it's mind boggling. On the same token, the heavy epidural drugs given to numb my entire lower half for the c-section were just crazy. I could feel the scalpel sliding across the flesh of my underbelly. I could feel the doctors' hands picking up and moving my various internal organs. I could feel everything they were doing, but none of it hurt... it was so surreal, that I am having a hard time finding words to describe the event. However, the freak show feeling ended when his first cries from the other side of the blue curtain brought tears to my eyes... and moments later, a cleaned up newborn was placed in my arms. Despite the ordeal of getting him here (which ended up being that Sunday afternoon), everyone's encouraging words were right... it was all worth it. My first thought (no lie) upon laying my eyes on my son was, "Thank God... he's not ugly." How superficial am I? Geez. Anyway... that's my labor horror story. Though, I promise not to rehash it and try to scare any newly pregnant friends in the future... because I hated hearing it from others month after month... which now seems like a lifetime ago.

I've been blogging like crazy in the last month... but no one has seen it. I cannot count the witty one liners that have popped in and out of my head over the course of the last several days, but I can tell you that nearly all of them disappeared as quickly as I'd formulated them. I had a blog in my head called "Leggo My Preggo" about the fact that dawning a baby belly in public instantly removes your personal space bubble with strangers. Out of nowhere, hands are drawn to your stomach like magnets, people in elevators talk to you and women with children in their shopping carts stop you to share their horror stories about 38 hour painful labors. I had another one prepared that had a title that now escapes me, but was about how our house feels almost haunted. One night Jason made a comment to me about the swing that sat empty and motionless next to the couch. After thinking about it more, it felt more and more like we were living with a ghost. The nursery was completely set up, all the tiny clothing was washed, folded and put away, the car seat was in the back of my car... and everyone's been calling him by name. No one says "the baby"... it's either Jackson Dean, Jackson or J.D. It's like he's been here for months... just exceptionally quiet and kind of on the invisible side. Then of course, there was the blog that I mentally drafted about all my hopes and future aspirations for my son. I thought about how I'll be able to control what he wears, listens to and watches for maybe 2 years tops. After that, he's going to start to form his own opinions... and even if they're actually not his opinions, but rather just influences of the world and people around him, I'm going to have to let go. I will have to suffer through his generation's Pokemon, Sponge Bob or Teletubbies... whatever the new fad is... and just pray that mine and Jason's genetics and early indie rock and artistic influences shine through when he begins to discover who he really is as a teenager. After all, I was quite the follower... including puffy-painted Keds and joining the cheerleading squad... until my freshman year of high school ended and I found photography and R.E.M. to be more my style. These are just three topics that could have stood alone as detail filled journal entries... but now I find myself on the eve of D-Day... after weeks of long hours at work, exhausting drives through traffic and falling asleep on the couch before 10 pm, too tired to log into the computer for recreation... and it's my last night of who I've been up to this point.

Like many women before me, I am afraid. I'm scared that I'll morph into one of those people who hasn't been to the movie theater in two years and who's most accessible conversation topic to throw on the table at lunch is that their kid pooped in the potty for the first time and promises to bring in a photo of it the next day. I'm worried that my friends without children who still go to my old hangouts to dance on my old dance floors will become distant and I'll have to replace them with people who watch General Hospital and like nothing more than fishing and watching football on the weekends. Perhaps most frightening, I wonder if my relationship with Jason will ever be close to what was before the stork brought us that surprise news. The fear of these things would be overwhelming if it were not for the fact that I know this little boy is going to fill a space in my heart that I never even knew existed. I can't help but fear the loss of parts of my old life, but I also know that about this time tomorrow, those fears will be the farthest thing from my mind. Everything changes, everything becomes something else... I know this and this thought will comfort me during the hours I will lay awake tonight thinking about fears of a completely different nature: induction, contractions, birth and all that fun stuff that comes with bring a baby into the world. 24 hours from now, my entire world is going to be different.

With a minimum of two hours of driving time per week day, my brain has had some time for pondering and reflecting. I've written at least a dozen fantastic journal entries in my head, but they've slipped away from me as each day passed without me writing them down. There is one train of thought, however, that refuses to be forgotten. Perhaps it is one of those profound life revelations that I once claimed to have at least once per month when I was a more diligent blogger. Go back to my 2005/2006 era if you didn't know me then or need a refresher. Maybe I'm just old, tired and hormonal now... or maybe I've become wise in my years and only get up on my proverbial soap box when it really counts. Either way, here's some food for thought in classic Tanya fashion:

It was after attending my baby shower that I began to notice the high percentage of female friends that I seem to have obtained. In my early twenties, I could count my girl friends on one hand and remember telling every new guy that I met that I kept mostly male friends because I just got along with them better. For many years, I claimed to be the anti-girl. I scoffed at flowers, hearts, kittens and the color pink. Instead, I spent time playing video games, working on cars, talking about rock music and drinking Jim Beam straight from the bottle with no chaser. Oddly enough, I also remember on several occasions when I made my "I have guy friends because I don't like girls and all their drama" speech, that the boy listening replied, "All girls say that." Back then, I recall being defensive and insisting that no matter how many girls said it, I was one of the ones who truly meant it. Somewhere over the course of the last few years, my friend ratio has changed drastically. At some point down the line, I decided that flowers weren't stupid and as I look down, I've presently got a heart shaped pendant hanging from the necklace I'm wearing. Going hand in hand with that, I can think of only three male friends that I have any closeness to, and with every passing minute I feel more and more distant from them. On the flip side, my shower was like something out of a movie... so very girly and even with women missing, it was a full house. I couldn't help but wonder how I got to this point.

Somewhere in the neighborhood of two years ago, I said to someone that I thought having opposite sex friends was completely acceptable until one was married. At that point, an individual becomes responsible for their spouse's feelings and should never leave even the minutest chance for trust issues to develop. I proclaimed that married people should only hang out with friends who were not of the same gender in group settings or during couples' outings. As I've crept up on the milestone age of 30, I've found myself becoming more family oriented, more responsible and enjoying quiet nights. You might call this "settling down" or maybe just "getting old" or "growing up". Regardless of the label put upon this transition, the fact is that it's happening. What I am pondering now is whether or not this is a subconscious change that has come about as a result of my beliefs or whether it's something preconditioned in my DNA. People involved in long term, committed relationships often stick with other pairs of the same when in social settings. Older and/or married women are less likely to have a male best friend (unless said friend is gay and considered to be more of a girl friend… there is an exception to every rule). Is this because they feel it's important to keep their significant other as the most important man in their lives? Is it something deeper… something that's just human nature? It's quite possible that young women avoid intimate friendships with other girls because of the level of competition between them and fear of being back-stabbed or turned against. In contrast to that, women who've gotten married have "staked their claim" and are no longer competing for male attention. Instead, they look to bond with other taken women to discuss their current relationship problems/joys or compare the common issues they share with the men that they love. It seems like once a woman reaches this stage in life, she values a deep emotional bond over one that is simply fun or only revolves around common interests. As an unrelated tangent, this difference between a girl and a woman (note: it has little to do with actual age, but more to do with emotional development) could greatly help men in the dating scene if they took the time to notice this. A female with primarily male friends is a lot less likely to be ready to get into a serious relationship than one with more female best friends. Even girls who claim to want commitment likely have no idea what they're ready for and it's easier to see the truth through the friends they keep rather then the words they say. You can really want something, but simply wanting something does not make it a reality. This probably works in reverse for the ladies in the dating pool, too. Anyway, back to my point and how this affects me...

Though I still have not decided whether I think it's a choice we unknowingly make or something in our genetic makeup that drives our actions (similar to our inherent need to eventually find a mate and procreate)… it's obvious that this change is occurring in my life. On the one hand, I'm sad to be losing my connection to the boys I tagged as "BFFs" because we shared so many good times and have so many common interests to discuss. On the other hand, having so many close female friends to talk to and depend on makes the sadness significantly less impactful as I seem to be drifting apart from others. Becoming closer to these women who have shown me such great friendship during these past 8 months of pregnancy has been a blessing. Having girlfriends who always return calls and emails in a timely manner never leaves me feeling as though I am neglected. I'm starting to realize that women are generally just better at being organized and communicating with one another… and those days I spent "crying into my pillow" because guy friends would go weeks with contacting me feels like something from a distant past. There's less stress and drama these days which has allowed me to focus on family and preparing for the huge changes to come. Instead of focusing on what little negatives that exist, I have simply been feeling happy and grateful. It just didn't hit me as to how lucky I am to be surrounded by such great friends until the day of my baby shower. I still can't believe how many put effort into being there for me without me having to do anything in return… I didn't cook, give advice, help them out in any way… I just sat there surrounded by chocolate, presents and loved ones who just wanted me to be happy without lifting a finger. It's not something I'm used to. Perhaps I'm still in shock. I only hope I can return the favor someday. Would one of you ladies hurry up and get knocked up already? Just kidding! Based on the collective response to Erica's card that I read aloud, it looks like little Jackson will have to find a way to make his own friends since it will be a long time before I can force him to play with my friends' kids... but that's ok, I still love you all. If you would have asked 20-something year old Tanya if she thought she'd have a whole slew of girl friends that she loved like sisters one day, she would have never believed it. However, it's true and I wouldn't trade it for the world!

P.S. Just so the boys don't feel completely left out: Kudos to James for helping Jason escape the super girly party at the comic book store... to Jay for making the 80's playlist for us all to enjoy... to Brandon for making me my favorite treat (chocolate covered strawberries) and sending them with Ames... and to Jonathan for swinging by at the end just to hang out.