My Days Without The Internet

Having a baby is expensive and taking two months off without pay is not only necessary, but detrimental on one’s financial situations. I like my house, car, electricity, phone and cable a lot. Unfortunately, I had to choose when paying bills and Comcast was at the end of the line. After two months without a payment, my cable box was actually repossessed. Yeah, let that sink in for a moment. I’ll wait…… Yes, repossessed like an unpaid car or an organ transplant I couldn’t afford. My cable box was repossessed!! I didn’t know this was possible and I can’t think of anything more embarrassing for my neighbors to see. Being that I’m surrounded by old white ladies that have nothing better to do than look out their windows, I’m sure everyone saw this guy come take my cable box away. As I write this, I have been without cable or internet for six weeks. (As of press time, it has been over two months!)

I was certain I would break down after being offline for an hour or so. I am addicted to the internet in a bad, bad way. The first day was hard, the second day was a little easier and by the end of week four it wasn’t physically painful anymore. I imagine this is what it feels like to quit smoking, but I have never done that and probably never will. Hey, addiction runs *strong* in my genes.

While offline, there were some necessary online tasks to take care of, as there always are. I have applied for several jobs, and I needed to go online for that. I needed an internet connection when I wanted to check my bank account or upload photos. Other than that, I could get my small fixes through my phone (thank God for my droid). When it was necessary for me to get online, I headed to Starbucks where I decided that America’s somewhat new fascination with over-priced coffee is probably synonymous with WiFi.

So, what have I been doing with my time? Remember, I was also out my 250 cable channels, DVR and OnDemand. That’s right, unplugged. Well, I re-discovered my love of the Sims games and wanted to write a huge blog about being able to create your own world and play “God.” But, I failed to ever get that idea from my head to my laptop and eventually got bored watching my Sim character watch tv and use his computer. (jackass.)

I then turned to the Wii for fun, but I don’t really have money to buy new games and there’s only so many times one can go virtual bowling before the novelty not only wears off but becomes completely annoying, and oddly enough, physically strenuous. I wanted to post a blog about the timeline of video games from my childhood to now. How did we go from Pong to Call of Duty so fast and what the hell kind of games will there be in another 20 years?! Again, I failed to get that idea from my head to my laptop.

I tried reading but there are too many books in my house thanks to my lit-nerd husband and I can’t seem to stay focused on a novel long enough before starting a new book and then I get my story lines crossed and then I get a headache because in this day and age, humans are not meant to read anything more than a blog or magazine article at a time. [Run-on or not, that sentence was fun to write and illustrates my point of rapid thinking and it’s connection to the dumbification of America.] (crap, I did it again)

I did all of those new mom things like changed diapers and folded tiny clothes, and thought about my how-to mommy hood blog that I would write and save lives with somehow. I watched a lot of movies from my Netflix queue and decided I wanted to start a movie review blog dedicated solely to B-Movies (I’m sure that’s never been done before *sarcasm is key*).

So, What have I been doing with my time? Thinking about blogging. How can I get people to read my blog? What is interesting to other people? Why do I even write a blog (three blogs, actually)? When will I finally feel great about a blog that I’m writing? Who reads these blogs anyway? Why does the word “blog” sound so funny after you say it ten times?

I’ve always been a fan of observational stand up comedy and feel like my blog is a good way for me to express that without the risk of rejection, or worse than that, silence. I’m constantly trying to find humor in everything I do just so I can write a long-winded diatribe full of run-on sentences (and too many parentheses [and punctuation marks!!]). Am I succeeding? No, not really. Do I feel good about the things I post? Yeah, mostly. Is there a line between a rant and art? Yes. Have I crossed it? Who knows. Aren’t I awesome at answering my own questions? I sure am.

To quote the timeless classic (and one of my favorite movies of all time) Jay and Silent Bob Strike Back:
“The internet is a place where nerds and geeks go to bitch about movies and share pornography with one another. It has given everyone in America a voice and apparently everyone in America has chosen to use it.”

Ben Affleck was speaking the truth, no doubt. Because everyone in America (and most of the world) has this new voice, it is used by most people; therefore, drowning out one another making every voice tiny and barely recognizable. Does that make the original voice worth having? Every shit head teenager has a webcam and a YouTube channel dedicated to their favorite guy-liner wearing pop-punk band’s deep and meaningful lyrics that totally describe exactly how they’re feeling. And every headstrong 20-something that knows everything has a sarcastic blog, full of run-on sentences, and, of course, too many punctuation marks (and parentheses).


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Cliché? Touché!

Oh, I never thought this post would come out of me, but here it is. My, how my life has changed.

I never wanted kids. They're messy and loud and you have to watch them 24/7 and sometimes they're even ... sticky. Gross. Who would want that?

Oh, but there was one fateful night in Orlando after many drinks and sing-a-longs that changed my kid-less future plans for me. [I'm not going to say that Pat O'Brien's causes babies to be made, but I think it helped.]

Two weeks later I got my period. Then it stopped an hour later. Then I started getting a little sick and my bra was suddenly painful. I found myself googling "period blood blocked?" because the thought of pregnancy was so distant in my mind. Another week later, I finally peed on a stick just to rule out pregnancy.

I didn't rule it out.

Positive.

Pregnant.

Shit.

I was very sad about it because this meant that I was actually going to have an abortion, and I was hoping never to do that. I really didn't want a baby though, so that was my only logical option. I was a complete mess at the time. Drunk every night, embarrassing myself on a regular basis, burning bridges faster than I could build them, living in a broken house with two other people both of them at least 5 years younger than me. I was living the life of a kid just out of their parent's house, but I had moved out of my mom's house 9 years before then. There was no way I could bring a baby into that, and what solidified that thought was the fact that I really didn't ever want to have children. They're sticky, remember?

The next day I went to work with swollen eyes from crying all night. I hadn't eaten in about 24 hours so I took my lunch break a little early and, being slightly disoriented, I bumped into the break room table, hitting my lower abdomen on the corner. I immediately and involuntarily grabbed my stomach in a panic as if to say "are you ok?" to the clump of cells inside me. I sat down and grasped what had just happened. I wanted to protect it. Whatever "it" was. I didn't want a baby, but I was protective of the first stages of one. Then, I could feel it. There was a life inside of me and it freaked me out, but what's more than that is the fact that I cared about it.

I changed my mind.

I'm going to have this baby.

Pregnancy was terrible, and I'm still suffering from the unplanned c-section (another blog with that whole story will be written one day). Not to mention the emotional and financial strain of an unplanned pregnancy and the eventual newborn baby that follows. Ugh, what a mess it was.

Kennedy Louise Kane was born at 1:16am on June 8th, 2010.

Kennedy has changed my life completely and she is the reason for everything I do. I love her more than I ever thought I could love anything on Earth. People told me certain things about this unconditional love when I was pregnant:

"You'll wonder what you did before having a baby"

"You will experience a completely new kind of love"

"You will enjoy getting up in the middle of the night to feed her"

"You will miss those sleepless nights with a newborn"

They are all true. I am so infatuated with this little thing. This tiny version of me that smiles every time she sees me. She laughs at my jokes, even though she doesn't even know they are jokes. Her smile and laugh melt my heart every day and when she does something for the first time I cry happy tears. This little thing I made in my body is growing and learning. I care so much about everything she does and it is all fascinating to me still.

As I rocked her to sleep tonight, I realized that there is no greater feeling in the world than having her head on my shoulder and her arms wrapped around my arm. I can hear her little baby breath and tiny baby moans right in my ear. The feeling of her little body cuddled up to mine, knowing that she feels safe in my arms, is incredible. That spot on my shoulder will always be there for her head to lay on when she needs it. After a long day at the park, after a bad day at school, the first time a boy breaks her heart, after her first car accident, when she comes home from college for Christmas, on her wedding day, when she has a baby... I can't wait to be there for all of it, and be the one person that she will always feel safe with.

I didn't think I would be this way. I am a walking cliché. I am a mom.

Weird.

In My RIGHT Mind*

Jacksonville, my current home town, is one of the most segregated cities I've been to. There are several neighborhoods and they are all made up of people of the same race and financial class. For example, the beaches are made up of mostly middle class white people, Avondale is made up of mostly upper class white people, Springfield is mostly poor black people (and a few hipsters), and Riverside is mostly 20-somethings that work in the restaurant industry (and a few hipsters). I live in Murray Hill which is, essentially, old white people waiting to die (and a few hipsters) surrounded by bad neighborhoods. My neighborhood is quite nice, but the surrounding streets are filled with ghetto.

Winn-Dixie is the closest grocery store to my house, and although I much prefer Publix, I end up at Winn-Dixie when I need something quick. I hate that place and the people that shop there. Every time I go in there I leave with raised blood pressure while questioning my political beliefs and "the system."

I go there to buy a few necessary things:
Diapers (because my baby goes through a lot of them)
Jelly (because all I can afford to eat for lunch is peanut butter and jelly sandwiches)
Store brand chips (because I can't afford Lays or Ruffles)
and Milk (so I can whip up some amazing Hamburger Helper for dinner)

We eat Hamburger Helper twice a week as a "fancy" dinner. We have not had steaks, chicken or fresh vegetables in quite some time. We don't have money because we spent $650/month for health care while I was pregnant and I'm on an unpaid maternity leave. Plus, the added expense of diapers, formula and tons of doctor's visits.

I was one of the 55 million uninsured Americans when I found out I was pregnant. I immediately applied for Medicaid but was denied because I "make too much money." I was also denied short term disability so my time off work would be completely unpaid.

So, I'm in Winn-Dixie buying scraps of food in order to not starve every day and I see a girl a little younger than me. She's in her early 20s and pregnant. She's pushing a cart with two other children in it, one about 4 years old and the other was about 3. The 3 year old was looking through her mom's Coach bag for her Channel lipstick. I watched her as she made her selection of steak cuts from the meat section. I was jealous, as I have not purchased any luxuries in quite some time.

I made my way through the store and to the check out line, where she was in front of me with her kids and her fine meat products. I watch her place steaks, formula, salad, potatoes, cookies, cereal and a cake onto the food treadmill and eventually pull out her EBT card to pay for it all. She was using food stamps. Government money. Taxpayer's money to buy these things, these delicious delicious things.

Here she is, probably unemployed as it is the middle of a week day, buying food I can't afford with money that's coming out of my paychecks as long as I'm actually getting them. Pregnant with her third child, using Medicaid to pay for her doctor's visits. Medicaid that comes out of my paychecks as long as I'm actually getting them.

The system, as it stands basically breaks down like this:
Work hard to just make enough to get by on your own - no help for you in case of an unexpected pregnancy or any other life-changing situation that may hinder your ability to buy decent things.
Have a couple of kids and sit on your ass all day - have everything for free!!

I've even seen commercials recently that explain that if you're already receiving free health care and food stamps, you can probably get a cell phone for free, too! My God! Why do any of us actually work in the first place? Oh yeah, to buy ghetto child-factories steaks.

This instance was not a first. Every time I'm in that store I see the same thing, and every time it causes me to rant about how these people are getting handouts when I, and actually contributor to society, can't afford more than peanut butter.


*WARNING: If read incorrectly, this blog may lead reader to believe the writer is a republican. Failure to notice the writer is actually quite liberal may result in inappropriate comments, unruly political debates, internet bullying, sarcasm, internal injury or even death. Please use precaution when reading this blog post as the writer will not be held responsible for improper interpretation.

Thoughts on being a mom and why that's the only thing on my mind.

Here's a small list of things I promise not to do as a mother:

1. Make a profile for my baby on a social networking site. This is ridiculous. These days, you're born and you get a birth certificate, a social security number, a hat and a social networking site profile. The government and hospital are to blame for the first three, and the lame parents should be shot for the last one.

2. Swear that my child is the cutest ever. I know she'll be beautiful to me, but I also hope to understand that not everyone will agree. I mean, she could look like this:


3. Set my profile picture on any social networking site to a picture of my baby. No. This is my profile, not hers.

4. Swear my baby is smarter than she should be for her age. "OMG, she raised her hand today, she must be a genius!"

5. Only speak to her in "baby talk." I hear they will grow up with a better vocabulary if they are spoken to like normal people rather than a baby. I will offer my daughter a bottle, not a "baba" and she will eat food, not "num nums."

Deep Thoughts (Without Jack Handy)

I miss that segment. Along with the good old days of SNL. Those two thoughts are unrelated to the post.

According to this cool app I have on my phone, I'm going to have a baby in 7 weeks and 2 days. Doctors agree that's about the right amount of time, though it could be more or less, but that's not important. Point is, my life is going to change.

No more jumping in the car to get coffee without packing a diaper bag. No more running into the gas station to buy overpriced cigarettes (people frown on leaving a baby in your car while you shop). No more staying out all night or random weekend trips because I feel like it. All small sacrifices for what people keep telling me will be "the best thing I'll ever do in my life."

Let's focus on that statement for just a second. Really? Is this the best thing I'll *ever* do in my life? Because that seems a bit extreme, doesn't it? I knew a girl in high school that had two kids before she finally dropped out. Is that the best thing she ever did? I know it's a big deal, and it will change everything I know about life for the better, but I hope I have a bit more to contribute to society than producing a mini-me. Then again, she could be the savior of the free world, and in that case, I guess they're right.

My daughter, Kennedy, has a pretty good chance at being somewhat successful amongst her peers. I mean, my husband and I look around the waiting room at the preggo doctor's office, and we're pretty sure we're doing everyone a favor by combating the abundance of idiocracy being bred ten fold. I had a conversation with a co-worker who's brother has (count them) FIFTEEN children running around the Jacksonville area, while he is being lovingly cared for in a New York rehabilitation institution where he's not allowed outside for the next 7 - 10 years. Apparently, for every one child I have, this guy makes a small colony, and excuse me, but that ain't right.

I sat down to write this with a specific goal and I'm afraid I've veered so far off subject that I can't even begin to transition into what I wanted to say without posing something ridiculous in between to maybe divide this blog into two. (maybe a run-on sentence will do? No? Ok...)

Gross.

Anyway, on to my deep thoughts. One year ago my life was, well, lacking. I had no drive or purpose. No direction. Very little enthusiasm about anything other than drinking my life away. I had a pretty cool boyfriend (now my husband), but that was about it.

Now, though, I have a reason to keep going. Something to look forward to every day, new goals and exciting events that will span for the rest of my life, and that makes me really happy. That is all.