Ninapintasantamaria's Blog

{December 2, 2011}   Well, I was all excited…

and, as usual, it was too good to be true. Tennessee has breastfeeding laws, and I was all excited thinking I could go pump whenever I needed to, and that my employer was required to let me go. Not really. I’m so upset. It says they have to let us have unpaid breaks, but only if it doesn’t disrupt business as usual. So they really don’t have to, because anytime you take a break as an OR nurse, you’re interrupting business as usual because they have to relieve you in a room, or the patient might roll to the room later, etc. Why even make a law if they can’t be more decisive than that? So now, I’m back to square one, trying to finagle time during a busy day without being dependent on my employers to provide it. What happens is I get stuck in a room with no relief, full to bursting, and I just have to suffer because they keep effing firing everybody and they have no help, and the charge nurse won’t come relieve you for a few minutes because they’re too busy “managing”. I need more control than that. I need a job where it’s not imperative that I be stuck and dependent on someone else’s good graces to take care of bodily functions.

I’ve decided to transfer up to the ICU and eventually go to school to become a CRNA. I hate school with a hairy passion, but I hate my job right now worse. I was dreading going back to work, I’m not focused, and I don’t want to be there. I have to force myself to get up and gird my loins for work every morning. You spend waaaaaay too much time at work to be unhappy,in my opinion, so it’s time to do something new.

In other news, Fletcher’s beginning to realize that Sabrina’s not going away. He is not amused. Alas. I have new pictures. My offspring:







{May 7, 2011}   PSA for men everywhere:

Guns are never a good Mother’s Day gift. Never. I don’t care if she hunts with the best of them, and is a member of the Navy Seals. NO mother wants a gun for Mother’s Day. NOT ONE OF THEM. How could any man be so clueless? I was hoping that all this extra work he’d been doing would lead to a nice Mother’s Day gift. I hope he didn’t expect me to jump up and down and be excited, cause that certainly didn’t happen. I was even so bold as to ask him what made him think I would want a gun, when a pair of diamond earrings would have sufficed? I’m going to bed.

{December 27, 2010}   Have you ever…

Just sat and thought about how your life would have been different if…? Yeah. I do that a lot. It’s not that I’m unhappy, exactly, but more that I’ve got so much more potential. I feel like I get disrespected at work, which bleeds over into my home life. I get irritated by the minutiae of the day and the fact that I work around a bunch of rude-ass people who can’t even answer you when you ask a question, or act like they just didn’t hear you and either talk over you, or do precisely what you asked them not to. I realize I have control issues, but I’m really tired of fighting for it. Here and at work. I feel like no one gives a shit what I think should be done, but then when I just take care of things myself(doing my best not to inconvenience everyone else), I’m called pushy, overbearing, bitchy, inappropriate, etc. Then, when I explain why I do what I do, (which I’ve spent my whole life coming up with justifications for everything I do and everything I want mostly because I despise people bitching at me and I always felt like if my parents had explained why more often, I wouldn’t have been nearly as sneaky, conniving, bitter, put upon, etc.), either they don’t want to hear it, or it’s ignored and they just keep right on bitching. Hmmm….most of this is reminiscent of home. I’m sorry, one of my pet peeves is people who act like you never even spoke when you ask a question. Dammit, I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t need the answer! If it’s not a good time, say that. Politely. Then get back to me. (‘Hang on’, ‘just a minute’, etc are all perfectly appropriate.) I’m sorry that ‘men use up their quota of words during the day’ or whatever crap that is. I don’t have time for that. I’m not just talking for my health. I’m not asking questions I already know the answers to, or I wouldn’t have asked, jackass. Answer me, or tell me where the information is, and I don’t need you telling me how much better someone else is at [fill in the blank] whatever I’m asking about, or how I can just look and know, or how it’s common sense. It’s not, or I wouldn’t be asking, fucker! Suffice it to say, I’m feeling a bit put upon, today. I’m tired of justifying myself. Time for the world to justify to me, a bit.

I read this book a long time ago, called Seven Habits of Highly Effective People. One of the big topics in it was how to “Seek first to understand, then be understood.” I want to do this, but I feel like I’m being roadblocked everywhere. Maybe I should have read Dale Carnegie’s “How to Win Friends and Influence People” instead.

Could everyone stop by and leave some encouraging words for my friend May? She’s in need. Great, horrid, terrible need. Thank you, in advance.

Aka, “SMITE.” Currently, I’m lying sideways trying desperately not to set fire to (with my bodily temp) or throw up on the carpet, me, or Fletcher. I was fine this morning. I drank milk and everything. Suddenly at lunch, I didn’t have any appetite and started feeling achy. At first, I thought I’d picked up something the wrong way. Oh, no. It ballooned into full-on fever pitch by 1pm, and I left early from work, picked up Fletcher from the babysitter’s (and, yes, possibly doing irreparable damage, but I was low on options), and high-tailed it home to take some aspirin and a nap. 2 hrs later, still hadn’t gotten to sleep, due to aches and pains, baby starts crying, I get up, and suddenly have to run. Hence the lying sideways. Did I tell you about my family? Yeah, they’re almost all the most wonderful creatures on earth. My cousin is coming to sit with Fletcher while I try to nurse myself back to some version of a healthy me. No funny pics today. I’ve forgotten where I put them under all the buckets and OTC pain meds/fever reducers.

{May 20, 2010}   Do rats play drums?

If so, they’ve been doing it inside my skull for most of the day. I got to work this morning and there was a lock on my locker. That didn’t belong to me, thereby rendering me very unhappy. I just worked Tuesday. I’m very glad that the person who did it wasn’t in hearing because the first think out of my mouth was “Who the hell did this?!!?” I calmed down after a minute and realized that it must just be someone new, so I sought out the nurse educator and requested the identity of the encroacher, if for no other purpose than just to reclaim my stuff. I left a very polite note introducing myself and even offering to move out if I could just get my belongings. She removed the lock but told me she’d cleaned out the previous day. Now, I’ve been there for 5 years, and now that I’ve gone prn, I don’t keep much of anything there anymore, so she thought it was vacant, I guess. No, I didn’t have a lock on it, cause I don’t keep stuff here for the most part. I’ll get one now! However. My scissors are now missing. I’m simply unable to function without my scissors. It’s like going out without a bra. I feel naked without them. I left a message on the board requesting their swift return, but I bet they’re gone for good. And another thing. Do you know she went and told the cardiac director that I was “mean at first, but then I became nice”? I don’t see what was mean about volunteering to cede territory with my stuff, but what-the-hell-ever. After the week I’ve had, I won’t be surprised if America’s Most Wanted mistakes my identity. *sigh* Then, I got to work with my favorite Dr R. today, who (as we’ve established before) has the communicatory skills of a fruit fly and naturally didn’t bother to board his cases correctly, thereby causing severe dis-preparement on the part of the staff, resulting in his severe (yet highly un-deserved, thank you very much) displeasure. Grrrrrrr. How nice. (Remember the old joke about the lady who was listening to all her friends discuss the nice things their husbands had gotten them for their anniversaries and kept saying “How nice!” When they asked her what she’d been given for her last anniversary, she told them a year’s worth of charm school lessons. When asked “Well, what ever for?” she answered “So I could learn how to say “How nice!!” instead of “Fuck you!”) How very nice. Then I got a headache so bad I couldn’t function/focus/fill out forms correctly. Woot. I just want to go to bed. This all started last night when my husband informed me he was having “Bro night” at our house. Apparently, I’m the only one of the wives who will let them participate in “Bro night” at our house. I agreed, with stipulations. Clean up after yourself, BYOB, by God you better not wake up the baby, and LEAVE at a reasonable hour, so that everyone else can get to sleep and to work the next morning without feeling like a poorly mutated lab specimen hell-bent on learning the drum solo to “Back in Black” is rolling around between your ears. Well, all seemed to go according to plan, until the reasonable hour came and went, and they all seemed to be omitting the leaving part. Grrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr. And some choice words. Not to mention, they get stupid when they drink, and it’s like baby-sitting teenage boys with less sense. I don’t like playing dutch boy for bunch of grown ass men with no money trying to do things that will only result in scraping them off the pavement where they’ve morphed into a greasy spot, or bailing them out of the pokey with our no money. Actually, I’ve always subscribed to the belief that if you’re stupid enough to play and get caught, you can rot in there till I decide to part with my hard-earned money rectifying your mistake. (I don’t hear any dancing elephants yet, but keep waiting. Let me know when they show up.) I finally issued the dismissal edict at approximately 1145. *disgruntled sigh* My week’s getting better and better. I’m just ecstatic thinking about what Friday holds in store for me! (Wild sarcastic grin)

{April 15, 2010}   I should have had a c-section.

Ok, remember that my baby was OP (Occiput Posterior) and we had a hard time getting him out and had to use the vacuum on his head which resulted in a huge hematoma and him getting his first suntan at an early age, right? Well. Today, my child was diagnosed with torticollis and plagiocephaly. Mild, but enough to make me pucker up. For the uninitiated that’s “crooked neck” and “flat head”, respectively. Then, to add insult to injury, I discover that it can be caused by birth trauma and overuse of baby equipment such as carseats, swings, and bouncy chairs. I own one of each which he spends copious amounts of time in. Add all that to me being afraid to put him on his tummy much till he was 3 months old cause he couldn’t hold his head up well or roll over, thereby even remotely risking him suffocating and you’ve got Helicopter Mother of the Year, here. In other words, hovering to the point of harm. So. I should have had a c-section so I could spend more time with him. I should have been sliced open so that his liver wouldn’t poop out and he wouldn’t turn yellow. I should have been cut so that he wouldn’t have gotten a damaged sternocleidomastoid muscle and have a crooked neck and a flat head. I shouldn’t have been afraid of tummy time. I’m still so terrified of SIDS that I run into his room at least twice a night with a penlight just to watch his chest rise and fall. By the time I got home today, I’d all but convinced myself that this had something to do with neural tubes and that even 4mg of folic acid wasn’t enough. A bit of research cured that, but didn’t make me feel any better. So now, my beautiful baby is screaming in his Bumbo chair because I’m throwing the swing and the bouncy chair out. *sigh* He’ll get used to it, I suppose. In other news, he weighs 15 lbs and had his shots today, and they’re otherwise very pleased with his progress. Keep up with the solid foods, try prune juice for the constipation, more tummy time, watch for teething, cut back on food just a bit and only give snacks, such as 2 oz instead of the full 4-6 between feedings. Nursing to soothe is ok, too. He behaved beautifully, and only cried for a second or two after the shots. I didn’t cry at all.

Had lunch with my best friend today. That was soooo much fun. Again, the offspring behaved beautifully. I think he’s perfect. I’m almost positive. But don’t worry, I only tell him he’s the prettiest baby in the whole house, so as not to swell his head.

{February 14, 2010}   It’s Valentine’s Day!!!!

And I’m sick. I have the snots. My once a year snot-fest decided to make reservations for this weekend, naturally. The baby isn’t sick, though. It’s just allergies. But my head feels like it’s going to implode. Seriously? My poor husband. I know he feels neglected. The one day a year when you’re supposed to make more effort than most, and my nose feels like Niagra Falls in a flood. I’m not worried about gifts or anything, I just wish I felt better. My child is sleeping like a log at the moment, which is wonderful, and I’m going to make dinner tonight (not that I’ll be able to taste it). My birthday is in a few days, so maybe I’ll feel better by then. And then I’ll be able to taste the birthday french fries he promised me. Please excuse the briefness of this post, I’m going to drip on the keyboard if I don’t run now.

{November 5, 2009}   What a day.

Ok, yesterday was the one year anniversary of my original due date. I didn’t notice really, cause I was working all day. Today, I was talking about ppd with a girl who went through it after her baby was born. She talked about how scary it was and that she was ashamed of having to walk away from her child due to frustration. I told her about my anxiety at my lowest points, and how I had to avoid Thanksgiving last year cause I wasn’t ready to meet my nephew and just broke down. Started sniffling. Got worse. I still feel guilty about not being able to face a 6 lb baby who’s the sweetest thing on the planet. (I figure mine isn’t here yet, so he’ll be numero uno till then.) I still get teary eyed thinking about how I was holding him at Easter and had my nose buried in his hair trying not to cry. Just one of those emotional kind of days, ya know. Well, fast-forward to the last case of the day. I finally got fed up with the skirt and vest lead that I was wearing for the C-arm cases and grabbed 2 lead aprons and just wore them front to back/back to front. It was lighter than the skirt and vest combo I’d had on, and felt easier to move in. Well, the PA asked if she could have one of them. I just looked at her. Then she said “Well, you’re wearing two.” Yes, I replied. “Trust me, your baby’s fine.” I had to grit my teeth and forcibly restrain myself not to say “You make one helluva lot more money than I do, why don’t you effin’ get your own?” and burst into tears. I managed to hold all of that in and look straight ahead and gave up the lighter lead apron for a heavier one. She said that her spinal defect thanked me, cause it hurt her back to have to wear the heavy ones for long. *breathing deeply through nose, trying not to lay into her* It all made me realize how tightly wound I really am about all of this. I managed to get through the next few minutes tear-free and just quietly explained that my thyroid had reacted badly to it, and I just wasn’t taking any chances whatsoever, not even cleaning my own bathroom for fear of inhalants. I’m sure I was giving her the ‘I don’t give a shit’ look the entire time, cause she started to backpedal and explain how she talked about it with her OB when she was pregnant and that the 1st 20 weeks were the most important time to worry about it, etc, etc. I just told her (as politely as I could) that I understood that I was a bit neurotic. She then said “Well, after all you’ve been through, it’s understandable.” By this time, I’m sure I was giving her the ‘fuck off’ look, cause she stopped talking and didn’t mention it the rest of the case. I’m chalking this up to pregnancy hormones, cause under normal circumstances, I like this girl a lot. I just found her attitude condescending, and again, found myself wanting to say “Yours came out perfect the first go round. You have no idea how I feel, and you don’t understand one bit at all!!!!” *deepbreathsdeepbreathsstavesofftears* Which, like I said, demonstrates how tightly wound I really am, cause there was nothing I could have done different to have had a different outcome the first time, at all. There was nothing anyone could have done. And I don’t know that she didn’t have any losses, or anything else. And she’s normally very kind and considerate and ultra-sensitive to other people. So I’m pretty sure it was just me and my hormones making me nuts today. I’m really glad no one decided to fuck with me today. I might have ended up on the news, for real this time.

Oh. Yeah. The MIL has been invited to the baby shower on Saturday. Yaaaay. Bring out the pompoms. Anyway, YCU asked me if I’d invited her, and I said ‘Noooo, I didn’t think you wanted me to.” He said that ‘well, it was his mom, ya know, and’ …. so now she’s invited. I don’t know if she’ll come, but just…ugh. I’m not sure I’m up for this, especially as the hubby will be sleeping cause he has to work that night. He also hasn’t had the ‘come to Jesus’ meeting with her or my stepson. I want the boundaries set now. I told him I didn’t care if he had to write it down and read it to them, but it had to come from him, or it would be completely ignored. I won’t be undermined, defied, or made to be the bad guy. All purchases need to be approved prior to gift-giving event, and there will be no unsupervised time, due to other pre-existing issues that are preventing the stepson from living here with us, and the fact that she’s crazy and inappropriate, and does things without asking and just generally overstepping. She is not to ‘drop by’, bring the stepson by or otherwise intrude herself without calling first, cause YCU and I have agreed there is to be no contact without both of us present. Until he has this discussion, I’m just gonna be leery of the whole situation. I don’t know any other way to handle the situation. I’ve got to protect my child. I also have to mark territory. If he wants me to piss on her shoe, I can do that, but it would really be easier if he would just grow a pair and deal with his own mother. If he makes me do it, he won’t like the way it’s handled.

{October 12, 2009}   What is the deal?

My husband interviewed on Thursday for a really good job with benefits. The woman called him this morning and said that she’d still not heard anything as far as approval went. Then ‘the roommate’ went for an interview, and immediately got a second interview. Now, I’ve lost hope again. That didn’t sound promising, did it. I just want him to have a better job. What am I gonna do?

et cetera