My friend, Rob, took me to the airport today. He's shuttled me from and to the airport at least 5 times, now, saving me about $150 in cab fare. That boy rocks. It might be the one thing I miss when all of this is over. I certainly won't miss seeing my daughter in bits and spurts, and I especially won't miss dropping her back off at her dad's. But I will miss the short trips with Rob. When I saw him today, I had been crying. It's hard to hug Scooter goodbye and hustle to the airport. I'm not sure if he noticed, and frankly, I don't care. It's such a relief and treasured time (for me) to have him take me to the airport. We laugh about completely random things the whole way to the airport, and he expertly takes my mind off the misery and heartbreak I feel. For 20 minutes, I feel normal and happy and sarcastic. And I can't thank him enough for those little respites from the reality of leaving my baby behind. Again.
But that's not what this post is about. This one's about the crazy number of people I've witnessed making out on this trip. I was late for Rob to take me to the airport. I think I do this every time. I agree to a time for Rob to pick me up, and then I show up 20 minutes later and make him get out of the driveway so I can park the car. Same story today. I was late. Rob's a saint. We got to the airport at about 5:11, and pull up to a couple full on making out in front of the unloading/loading zone. We're talking tongue, arms akimbo, heads mashing disgusting. And these weren't kids. He was bald; she was driving a mini van.
I gave Rob a quick hug (even those of us with personal space issues hug at airports),and I ran in to print my own boarding passes. I was done and through security in 11 minutes. I spoke to Ben very briefly and then settled in to hop on the internet. We were supposed to have started boarding in 3 minutes, but the plane had not arrived, yet. I looked up from my laptop during the 30 second obligatory advertisement for free wifi access and saw another couple (this one much younger, and one a soldier) making out directly in front of me. Where did they come from?! They were not there when I sat down! Is this God's way of punishing me for staying in Omaha on my anniversary instead of being home with my husband? Because technically, it's not my anniversary. It only happens once every 4 years, and we're not quite there, yet. For all I know, tomorrow's the big day.
Either way, I'm stuck either missing my husband or missing my daughter for a while longer, yet. I can't wait until spring break. 18 more days.
Monday, February 28, 2011
Here we go again...
I've been doing a lot of flying these past few (6?) months. At least twice per month, I've made a trip to and from Omaha. I'm a regular pro now at navigating the airspace between Portland and Omaha. Denver is my usual hangout between cities, but I've been through Dallas and Chicago a few times as well. I can tell you this with some certainty. Screaming/crying babies don't bother me. I'm a parent. I know what it's like to have to deal with an unhappy child on an aircraft. What does bother me is adults behaving like children and people who bring their dogs on flights with them. Because barking dogs are not what I want to hear for hours on end when I'm trapped in a metal tube hurtling through the air at 500 miles per hour. For one thing, a child's cries become pretty muted after about 4 rows. A dog's bark, on the other hand, can echo throughout the cabin, no matter how far away I'm sitting. Those shrill, annoying yelps of purse dogs are definitely the worst.
Once again, this weekend went by WAY too quickly. How on earth is it possible that the longest 2 hours of my life can be followed by the fastest 48? This weekend, there wasn't enough snow to go sledding, and it was too cold to do much playing outside at all. So we spent all day Saturday and Sunday playing games at my in-law's house. The in-laws are always so accommodating and lovely to hang out with. They bravely amuse Scooter and my whims as we flit from playing barbies to strawberry shortcake to 100s of games of UNO or Sorry. We even did two puzzles together.
Scooter talked to me quite a bit this weekend. I got the distinct impression that she's ready to come home. She commented that she belongs with me. I'm her MOM. I'm the one that has taken care of her. In fact, some of the comments lead me to believe that she's heard some things about the trial at her dad's house. She told me that I've taken care of her more than her dad has. That "even if you count all the days" that I've taken care of her vs her dad since she was "three" that I have taken care of her more. First of all, I have NEVER mentioned to her that bit about counting days. It was one of the things brought up at trial, that I've been the 90 percent parent since the divorce (which, by the way, happened when she was two...get your year's straight). His side took vehement offense to us even THINKING about breaking parenting down to percentages. How can you measure a parent's love for their child. Well...maybe by measuring how much time they want to spend with their daughter? No? Ok. Anyway, I told Scooter that we don't need to count days, and that I've taken care of her since the day she was born. I didn't start taking care of her when she turned 3.
She also made a comment that maybe by spring break, I'd be living back in Omaha, anyway. Um..hm..where would she have gotten that idea? Maybe when she and I were both asking her dad if she could come out to Portland for Spring break, and it took me asking 3 times and Scooter asking who know how many times? First of all, even if the judge had ruled from the bench and said "no" I probably wouldn't have been able to put in my two weeks at work, break my lease, and rent a moving truck before Spring break (a month and a week after trial). Secondly, so what. Even if I WERE back in Omaha by spring break, I'd still want to spend it with Scooter.
On the way home from church yesterday, she said that she really liked this weekend (and every weekend with me) because her dad and Vicky never spend time playing with her. They're always too busy to play games with her. My mother in law and I tried to make excuses for her dad (I've been doing that for 7 years. It's hard to break habit), and Scooter finally said, "no. he knows how to play all of those games. He just doesn't want to." It was sad. I feel sad that she's had to endure 6 months of loneliness for no reason other than her dad's selfishness. He supposedly wants her, but when he has her, he doesn't really want her. It breaks my heart.
On the way back to Omaha from the in-laws last night, Scooter also talked a lot about wanting to live with Bubba and be a family again. She mentioned that Bubba makes everything more fun, and she's concerned that he really misses her to much. He does, but it really made my heart swell that my daughter is so caring that she's concerned about that, and not her own happiness. This trial, her dad and Vicky's pregnancy, and now they're looking at new houses has got to be stressful for her. The trial alone is so so so stressful for me, I can't imagine being 7 and having to deal with the rest of it.
Tomorrow will be 3 weeks since the trial, and 17 days until I see Scooter again. This is killing me.
Once again, this weekend went by WAY too quickly. How on earth is it possible that the longest 2 hours of my life can be followed by the fastest 48? This weekend, there wasn't enough snow to go sledding, and it was too cold to do much playing outside at all. So we spent all day Saturday and Sunday playing games at my in-law's house. The in-laws are always so accommodating and lovely to hang out with. They bravely amuse Scooter and my whims as we flit from playing barbies to strawberry shortcake to 100s of games of UNO or Sorry. We even did two puzzles together.
Scooter talked to me quite a bit this weekend. I got the distinct impression that she's ready to come home. She commented that she belongs with me. I'm her MOM. I'm the one that has taken care of her. In fact, some of the comments lead me to believe that she's heard some things about the trial at her dad's house. She told me that I've taken care of her more than her dad has. That "even if you count all the days" that I've taken care of her vs her dad since she was "three" that I have taken care of her more. First of all, I have NEVER mentioned to her that bit about counting days. It was one of the things brought up at trial, that I've been the 90 percent parent since the divorce (which, by the way, happened when she was two...get your year's straight). His side took vehement offense to us even THINKING about breaking parenting down to percentages. How can you measure a parent's love for their child. Well...maybe by measuring how much time they want to spend with their daughter? No? Ok. Anyway, I told Scooter that we don't need to count days, and that I've taken care of her since the day she was born. I didn't start taking care of her when she turned 3.
She also made a comment that maybe by spring break, I'd be living back in Omaha, anyway. Um..hm..where would she have gotten that idea? Maybe when she and I were both asking her dad if she could come out to Portland for Spring break, and it took me asking 3 times and Scooter asking who know how many times? First of all, even if the judge had ruled from the bench and said "no" I probably wouldn't have been able to put in my two weeks at work, break my lease, and rent a moving truck before Spring break (a month and a week after trial). Secondly, so what. Even if I WERE back in Omaha by spring break, I'd still want to spend it with Scooter.
On the way home from church yesterday, she said that she really liked this weekend (and every weekend with me) because her dad and Vicky never spend time playing with her. They're always too busy to play games with her. My mother in law and I tried to make excuses for her dad (I've been doing that for 7 years. It's hard to break habit), and Scooter finally said, "no. he knows how to play all of those games. He just doesn't want to." It was sad. I feel sad that she's had to endure 6 months of loneliness for no reason other than her dad's selfishness. He supposedly wants her, but when he has her, he doesn't really want her. It breaks my heart.
On the way back to Omaha from the in-laws last night, Scooter also talked a lot about wanting to live with Bubba and be a family again. She mentioned that Bubba makes everything more fun, and she's concerned that he really misses her to much. He does, but it really made my heart swell that my daughter is so caring that she's concerned about that, and not her own happiness. This trial, her dad and Vicky's pregnancy, and now they're looking at new houses has got to be stressful for her. The trial alone is so so so stressful for me, I can't imagine being 7 and having to deal with the rest of it.
Tomorrow will be 3 weeks since the trial, and 17 days until I see Scooter again. This is killing me.
Thursday, February 24, 2011
Carby, not crabby
I'm hungry. I'm starving, and I'd like nothing more than a calorie-laden giant bad-for-me lunch. I'll end up with fish, ramen, and yogurt when I get around to getting up out of my seat. This morning, on our way to Bubba's "school," there was SNOW ON THE VALLEY FLOOR. All .25 inches of it. Basically a dusting, but with giant, wet, heavy flakes. And since it was right at 32 degrees, I had to scrape the car. If there's one thing about Portland winters that's true, it's that if the temp drops below 34, you'll have to scrape your car windows. It's moist out here.
I made it onto my #1 favorite train (which was empty), and as we were coming out of the tunnel into Portland's downtowny area, the snow really started falling. The streets were deserted. I usually see 30-40 cars while waiting for the crosswalk at Burnside. Today, it was closer to 20-30 cars total on my mile walk in from the train. But shortly after I got to work, the sun came out. There is no snow left on the ground. We'll see if the trace-3 inches they're expecting for the rest of the day actually pans out. I have my doubts. Hopefully, the "arctic" (20s) temperatures they're expecting for tomorrow doesn't somehow delay my flight. I'm getting excited to see Scooter again.
I made it onto my #1 favorite train (which was empty), and as we were coming out of the tunnel into Portland's downtowny area, the snow really started falling. The streets were deserted. I usually see 30-40 cars while waiting for the crosswalk at Burnside. Today, it was closer to 20-30 cars total on my mile walk in from the train. But shortly after I got to work, the sun came out. There is no snow left on the ground. We'll see if the trace-3 inches they're expecting for the rest of the day actually pans out. I have my doubts. Hopefully, the "arctic" (20s) temperatures they're expecting for tomorrow doesn't somehow delay my flight. I'm getting excited to see Scooter again.
Wednesday, February 23, 2011
Hair!
I think I found my new hair professional. His name is Jeff, and it turns out that he's not gay. I was under the impression that straight men didn't have the "touch" to do hair. I'll admit. I tried applying a stereotype to a hair dresser. Does that make me sexist? Gendist? Please don't say that I'm a homophobe! (although I will admit that I was really scared when I realized he was straight).
He was pretty expensive, but it's kind of what I expected for hair servicing in Portland compared to the prices in Omaha. I'm happy to report that he broke down the stereotype and gave my mop some style and finesse, while keeping the length I need to donate to locks of love. He wasn't the quickest cut in the land, and his technique was insane (scissors in the right hand, upside down), but I'm happy with the result, which I haven't been with the last few hair places I've tried. The best part was that he thinks I'll be ready to chop this stuff off at my next appointment. I need to start looking for good short cuts!
Since I was able to go to my hair appointment, I guess you can guess that we don't have any snow, yet. They've changed the forecast several times, but I've been given the green light to work from home tomorrow if the streets are scary in the morning. Here's to hoping.
He was pretty expensive, but it's kind of what I expected for hair servicing in Portland compared to the prices in Omaha. I'm happy to report that he broke down the stereotype and gave my mop some style and finesse, while keeping the length I need to donate to locks of love. He wasn't the quickest cut in the land, and his technique was insane (scissors in the right hand, upside down), but I'm happy with the result, which I haven't been with the last few hair places I've tried. The best part was that he thinks I'll be ready to chop this stuff off at my next appointment. I need to start looking for good short cuts!
Since I was able to go to my hair appointment, I guess you can guess that we don't have any snow, yet. They've changed the forecast several times, but I've been given the green light to work from home tomorrow if the streets are scary in the morning. Here's to hoping.
Tuesday, February 22, 2011
2 weeks
It's been two weeks since the last day of the trial. It seems like a lifetime. Since then, I've successfully negotiated for spring break (hooray!), found out that the ex and Vicky are preggers (EW!), and found a new hair dresser. Actually, I'm not really sure about the hair dresser, yet. I'll find out tomorrow (if there's no snow).
The news people kind of freak out about weather around here. If there is an iota of a remote chance of snow, it's reason to shout at us for 3 weeks prior to the big weather event. From what my coworkers tell me, if the weatherman has predicted it, it doesn't happen. Either it doesn't happen until days (or weeks) later, or it doesn't happen at all. We've already experienced this phenomenon this year. But the weatherman keeps telling us that this time, it's for real. There will really be snow on "THE VALLEY FLOOR!!!" That's a big deal around here. I guess a few years ago an unexpected snow storm caused over 1500 drivers to abandon their vehicles on highways. Buses were stuck. It was chaos. And they're promising more of the same with 6 inches ON THE VALLEY FLOOR expected this week.
I'm scared that my hair appointment will be canceled. I'm more scared that my flight will be canceled. They don't have plows in Portland. They don't salt the roads. They are not prepared for even 2 inches of snow. Here's to hoping that the weatherman is wrong. Again.
The news people kind of freak out about weather around here. If there is an iota of a remote chance of snow, it's reason to shout at us for 3 weeks prior to the big weather event. From what my coworkers tell me, if the weatherman has predicted it, it doesn't happen. Either it doesn't happen until days (or weeks) later, or it doesn't happen at all. We've already experienced this phenomenon this year. But the weatherman keeps telling us that this time, it's for real. There will really be snow on "THE VALLEY FLOOR!!!" That's a big deal around here. I guess a few years ago an unexpected snow storm caused over 1500 drivers to abandon their vehicles on highways. Buses were stuck. It was chaos. And they're promising more of the same with 6 inches ON THE VALLEY FLOOR expected this week.
I'm scared that my hair appointment will be canceled. I'm more scared that my flight will be canceled. They don't have plows in Portland. They don't salt the roads. They are not prepared for even 2 inches of snow. Here's to hoping that the weatherman is wrong. Again.
Monday, February 21, 2011
You spin me right round, baby....
I made it to spin class today. Hooray! Happy President's day, everyone! It was a spintastic morning. The instructor was a guest. I guess she'd taught there before, but not for a few years. She was back, and she was awesome. Better music than we've heard in a while, too. She even incorporated some tabata-style intervals into the middle of the workout (20 seconds all out, 10 second recovery 8 times). So what if I felt like barfing after class? I think it was worth it.
I kind of like the am classes as compared to the evening classes. For one thing, I'm not the least in-shape person in the room. Not that I'm keeping track of all the people who are better or worse than me, but it is nice to see a couple of people at or below my skill level. For another, it's not nearly as busy. When I snuck into the evening class a few weeks ago, I was one of three people who had not signed up for the class ahead of time. 27 people had signed up, and they'd done so 3 hours before the class started. At least a few of those people (if not all - I still need to check the policy on that) paid a $1.00 for the benefit of knowing they were signed up. The instructor kind of stressed the importance of signing up, and not just walking in. Oops. My guilty conscience really burned that night. The morning class is not like that at all. It's maybe 1/2 full, if that, and the instructors (so far) have been very nice about welcoming people in. And it's still a great work out. It might not be given by the Matthew McConaughey look alike, but when I'm gasping for breath while sweating through my shirt, I'm not exactly wanting to interact with MM. I'd rather run into him on my way into work, when my hair and make up are fresh.
The morning was rushed, and I had to take my #3 choice train, but I think I'll try to keep this up 3 times a week. It's a good workout, and even though my legs feel like jelly when I take the stairs at work, I think it'll be a good thing in the long run. Who knows. Maybe I'll enter another triathlon this year...
I kind of like the am classes as compared to the evening classes. For one thing, I'm not the least in-shape person in the room. Not that I'm keeping track of all the people who are better or worse than me, but it is nice to see a couple of people at or below my skill level. For another, it's not nearly as busy. When I snuck into the evening class a few weeks ago, I was one of three people who had not signed up for the class ahead of time. 27 people had signed up, and they'd done so 3 hours before the class started. At least a few of those people (if not all - I still need to check the policy on that) paid a $1.00 for the benefit of knowing they were signed up. The instructor kind of stressed the importance of signing up, and not just walking in. Oops. My guilty conscience really burned that night. The morning class is not like that at all. It's maybe 1/2 full, if that, and the instructors (so far) have been very nice about welcoming people in. And it's still a great work out. It might not be given by the Matthew McConaughey look alike, but when I'm gasping for breath while sweating through my shirt, I'm not exactly wanting to interact with MM. I'd rather run into him on my way into work, when my hair and make up are fresh.
The morning was rushed, and I had to take my #3 choice train, but I think I'll try to keep this up 3 times a week. It's a good workout, and even though my legs feel like jelly when I take the stairs at work, I think it'll be a good thing in the long run. Who knows. Maybe I'll enter another triathlon this year...
Friday, February 18, 2011
Ugh. Gross
I've been experiencing the "flight or fight" response on and off for about 6 months, now. Generally, it's been centered around some new news or development with my on-going struggle to leave Omaha behind for the (much) greener pastures of the Pacific Northwest. I've gone weeks without feeling the familiar flip of my stomach and tingle as the blood leaves my extremeties. Not anymore.
It's been 10 days since the last day of the trial. 10 days since it came to a "close." 10 days since the judge said, "Get in line. I have a 500 case backlog before I can rule on yours." It's been 10 days, and I still have almost a constant flip and tingle. Luckily, I'm not teary (all the time) anymore, but I'm having an extremely difficult time settling back into the routine of life this time. What's that song? The Waiting is the Hardest Part?...
It's been 10 days since the last day of the trial. 10 days since it came to a "close." 10 days since the judge said, "Get in line. I have a 500 case backlog before I can rule on yours." It's been 10 days, and I still have almost a constant flip and tingle. Luckily, I'm not teary (all the time) anymore, but I'm having an extremely difficult time settling back into the routine of life this time. What's that song? The Waiting is the Hardest Part?...
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