Day one of Korean invasion

Day one:

I wear a lot of makeup when I’m nervous. I also wear a lot of makeup when I know that people are going to think I look ugly. I wore eyeshadow and lipstick for the first time in months. Hubs went to the hotel (yes they stayed at a hotel about a block from us thank CHRIST) and got them around 11. MM and I sat and fretted and waited.

When they arrived at the house, I came downstairs to the yell-talkers and presented the boy. They immediately flipped their shit over them, of course

Then MM became…uncomfortable with the volume at which these two speak, and wanted to be held by me. They kept marveling over his eyes, his face, his hair, his ears (because big ears means big fortune of course), and on and on and on. It was awesome to have this little bundle of in-law buffer joy. These pictures are the only time that they hold him that day. They are….well they are retarded with babies. His father was never allowed to hold Hubs as a baby, because Crazy-in-Law was crazy before she was an in-law, so he kept laughing nervously and saying, “I don’ know what do baby!” and his mother got freaked out when MM whined a little bit and immediately handed him back to me saying, “Must need mommy.” Satisfying, that he did not like being held by them.

We went to Hubs’ favorite sushi place so that they could order miscellaneous fish product and then steal things that the other person ordered instead of what was on their own plates, and though I had asked Hubs to please keep me informed of what the conversation is about, he was having trouble thinking in two languages so I was quickly left behind. It wasn’t hard to guess though, since they’d throw in English words like, “Ears!” “So Cute!” “He know his mommy!” They talked about how MM knows who I am, and sort of knows who Hubs is, and MM performed well by not crying and giving mommy big smiles. Good boy. The baby and I just sat there smiling to each other, and it gave me a good excuse to not look at them while they eat, because Hubs’ parents are the grossest eaters on earth.

By the time we were leaving, MM was getting a little fussy and wanted to eat, and there was a lot of this:

CiL: Hehe, bebe hung-ah-dee
AiL: Oh, bebe hungadee. Mommy, bebe hungadee!

We went back to our house where MM and I ran upstairs to hide for an hour under the guise of, “He is indeed ever so hungry.” We sat in the rocking chair together and got a few minutes of sleep, then I fed him, and THEN I pumped. Anything to stay away. In the meantime, Hubs was downstairs no doubt detailing plans for murder/suicide in his head while appeasing them on the outside. The fucking saint of a man let the baby and I stay home while he took them around town Korean Bus-Touring the shit out of an hour. He showed them our old apartment, his office, and other various boring things, while I stayed home with the baby. MM screamed and wouldn’t sleep and was a terror and I was grateful to be with him instead of the nutzos.

Of course, as soon as MM fell asleep and I had layed down and closed my eyes, the door opens and BLAH BLAH YELLING IN KOREAN WHICH IS ACTUALLY TALKING BUT ALWAYS SOUNDS LIKE YELLING. Awesome.

They didn’t speak much to me, mostly because I hid. But, to give them credit, AiL half-listened to things I said and told related stories, and spoke in English some of the time so that I could know what the fuck was going on. CiL seemed to be saving her reserves of crazy for the day.

CiL “cooked dinner” and by “cooked dinner” I mean put some random food together in a strange fashion…with her own blender she brought from home.  She said something to me about blending peanuts and putting them with milk, and then I was thrust in front of a bowl of noodles and cabbage with peanutty milk poured on it as if it were Capt’n Crunch. “Oh! The baby is hungry! I’ll be upstairs!” Well, now we know why she needed that gallon of none fat milk.

Hubs and I decided to go for a walk, because MM was getting pissed as fuck that he didn’t get to be in a nice, calm atmosphere of sunshine and lollipops and on-demand napping. When we came downstairs I said that I was still so very full from my white girl chicken teriyaki and tempura (eaten with a fork, good god no!) that I just couldn’t possibly have that delicious cold milky ramen right now. Bonus points for not eating and the whole “You so fat” thing, minus points for not eating the sludge that was slowly absorbing into itself I shit you not. When I went upstairs there was a lot of milk, when I came back down there was much less. Hubs insists that it was being absorbed into the little noodles, but I’m pretty sure those are teeny translucent snakes that enjoy some weight control milk.

We walked for almost two hours, and even though we were exhausted, I would have walked some more. We walked to our local Smith’s to get CiL some puffed rice, the “food” that keeps her from disappearing when she turns to the side. As we were on our way home, the old people called to let us know they had decided to call it a night as soon as we got back. It was 5:00pm, after all.

We walked in the door and find that the UPS man I have been waiting on the edge of my “Oh god don’t let Hubs get the door” seat for all week has come. Hubs walks in first and finds….well, he finds his Big Christmas Present sitting there, not in a brown box, but instead the actual product box with a big-ass picture of what’s inside. There’s no way you can un-see that one, and for some reason I’m angry at his parents for accepting a package and not having the foresight to hide it, which is totally ridiculous, but I’m so upset just the same. Hubs blames himself, for having eyes. Oh well, I still want him to enjoy it, so we’ll open it after the children leave for the hotel.

MM was perfect and angelic and sleepy and cute and wonderful around his grandparents. That night, he did not go to bed until 1:00am and screamed so hard that I thought for sure that even though I was holding him and patting his back gently, I must be actually stabbing him repeatedly because there was no other reason for the screaming. We did not sleep well.

Goo

So far, the visit has been….

Not so bad.

Today is sure to be torture though. I cannot hide in the nursery pretending to nurse when we are in Park City. Pray to Zeus we make it til 8 when we have to drop them at the airport after the inevitable “I’m going to stay a few extra days on the floor of your house” fight with his mother. She’s already said that she wants to stay at our house while the rest of us go up to Park City. Um, no. That is obviously so you can root around in our shit and throw out my “totally unnecessary” thyroid medication.

Also, old people and babies – very similar. Cranky in the afternoon because they are tired, check. Babbling incoherently, check. Totally fucking annoying, check. Trying to make me eat the strangest shit ever, well….that’s just his parents. I’m tired of saying “Oh, no, I am still full from lunch” when in fact I’d kill someone for a slice of Little Seizures. I will not eat a milk and peanut based cold noodle soup. Goo.

A sidebar story for your enjoyment

MM had his first full night in the crib last night, and other than the adventure, he slept (and is still sleeping) soundly. I, on the other hand, was a nervous wreck, straining my ears to hear any little sound that would indicate distress – even though the monitor is right there next to us. Apparently my baby is much more excited about being a growed up big boy than I am.

So I am refreshed and ready for a day of in-lawing, obviously.

Crazy-in-law and Angry-in-Law got in at the very appropriate time of 11:59pm, and when I say appropriate of course I mean typically thoughtless. Apparently there were FIVE bags that came along with them, three of which CiL refused to let AiL look into. I’m certain there will be food, and am 95% sure there will be more than one kitchen appliance for us that they just don’t have in Utah/we are incapable of buying because we are retarded…like the rice cooker we have….or the kettle…and probably water because we don’t have water out here in the third world.

Which reminds me of a sidebar Crazy-in-Law story. When we got our first apartment together, Hubs happened to mention to his mother that there was no water filtration system. Well! Immediately she says she’s going to be sending us something. Does she go out and buy a brita pitcher or a pur attachment for the faucet? Of course not! She spends $500 on a water filtration system that is hooked up to the faucet. Picture this: A kitchen where one can stand in the middle and practically touch all the walls, and at the sink stands three huge silo-looking things connected to each other, each standing about 16 inches high, about 6 inches wide, with a line hooked to the faucet and a small spout. As it was so huge, it awkwardly sat at an angle half on the counter and half over the sink. The system was so intricate that when you pulled the teeny knob on the faucet to have the water run through to the spout, it would take a full 5 seconds to make its journey through the system to start pouring. Regardless of how strong the flow of water was from the sink, the spout would slowly drool out your filtered water. Of course, after you turned off the water, the spout would continue to drool until the three water towers were empty, so filling your water was a guessing game that usually involved calculating where 2/3 full was, and sitting there waiting for the drip, drip, driiiiiip of the last drops of your final third. Now, this shit was about 15 pounds, so obviously she mailed this to us. And! When we moved out of the apartment, she forced us to mail it back to her. Mail it back to her as we were moving into our home two weeks before our WEDDING. When we had the least money of our liiiiives. I seem to remember it being about $30 to send it back.  I still have the spout attachment in my toolbox, because I forgot to include that in the shipment so I know for certain that she has NEVER USED IT AGAIN. We do not mention a need for anything any longer.

I cannot find a picture of this monster, but this one is close and indicates the rough size of the system when compared to a 6 foot tall man.

I can sure bullshit a whole lot more by typing, and it don’t hurt mah hand.

Apparently, the muscles that help me hand write have atrophied. Ow.

Good grandparents wait to meet him until he can understand their hurtful comments

Do you have Korean In-Laws? Well, I do. (Those are all links if you’d like to read related crazy-in-law/angry-in-law stories)

They really are coming this weekend. You know how I know? Annoying packages and condescending notes of course!

MM and I were going to go on a “shut the everloving fuck up” walk yesterday because he decided to sleep a grand total of 30 minutes for the day and was screamy and bored and I was screamy and bored and had no sleep for the day. The one sure way for some quiet is a walk, and even if I’m exhausted beyond measure I’ll do it.

We went to the mailbox to grab the mail as the first step of the walk, and waiting for us there was a big, heavy flat rate box. I saw CiL’s handwriting and started guessing. Bricks! Rocks! Soy Sauce! Sesame Seed Oil! Cucumbers! Baby Wipes! Disgusting food that she’ll undoubtedly say is “good for making another baby!”

So, since I would rather not cart around a 15 pound box on our hour long walk, we went back inside for more screaming from non-movement. I HAD to open the box because, fuck, what if it’s bricks?!

Inside was….three bottles of Tree Top Apple Juice, and this note taped (junior high school passing a note in class-style) to one of the bottles.

At the top is our last name in English and Korean, twice.

Below that is my first name, then Hubs’ first name, in English and Korean. I am pretty sure that she thinks her helpful little notes will make this white devil learn some Korean so that I can be respectable.

The rest of the note in bold with my bitchy comments added:

How are you

I write air plane schedule
two words
(schedule)

Some Dr. say: apple is very good for health.
She writes this like “Confucius say” and also no duh
Every day apple or apple juice or apple sause: Recommendation
I love that the “or” is circled like “BUT NOT ALL OF THEM”
I send 3 bottle apple juice
Now, keep in mind, this is not crazy apple juice that one would only find at a Korean market in Orange County. This is fucking tree top.
Two for you.

One: Keep for me.
Really? Really? Now you are sending food for us to keep for you?
Maybe I mixed with healthy food (powder)
She means ATP, this nasty-ass powder with like 8,000 ingredients like tree bark and eye of newt

Do you have none fat milk?
Do you mean do we have it in the house, or does Utah have skim milk? Really, because I’m fairly certain you think that grocery stores do not have things like produce, milk, or fucking tree top apple juice
When I go over there,

I need one gallon none fat milk.
you drink a gallon of milk in two days? Where do you put that shit
I cannot mail that one.

Because very heavy and we have to <must> keep
Yeah, she wrote “have to” and then above she wrote “<must>” like we don’t know what have to means.
refregerator all the time.
But you TOTALLY WOULD

See you soon.        Mom.         bye.

Oh friends, how will I survive this weekend? How will I survive the digs about how fat I am, and the critical things they will undoubtedly say about my son? What do I say when they say “He looks too white” or “His skin is dry, are you not bathing him” or “He’s fat like you!”? We also have, like, no plans for when they get here, so it will more than likely be two days of Hubs and his parents yelling back and forth in Korean, me holding Adam and trying to help him not get scared by the yelling, and then me asking Hubs what the fight was about and getting, “I don’t remember.” Rinse, repeat. Oh, and the condescending commands from his mother to me stating obvious things like “Change his diaper when he poops,” “Feed him when he is hungry,” “Sometimes babies cry,” and more than likely “It’s okay for babies to be fat, but not you.”

We cannot, or rather will not tell them about the thyroid issues I’ve had because when I first met her she asked invasive questions about my health (she used to be a nurse) and when I told her about a laggy thyroid she told me that it was temporary! and not a problem! and when she visited Utah last time she threw away my thyroid medication while I was at work! I’m sure that even if I could get her to understand that yes, her thyroid problems were probably related to the birth of her son, hyper instead of hypothyroidism, and temporary, but mine are not the same at all and I have a family medical history to prove it (which I could never convince her of because she pretends to not understand English when you tell her something she doesn’t want to hear), she would probably just see it as a weakness in my character that I couldn’t just “get over it and lose weight.” And all this, I wouldn’t mind as much still if she said it to my face instead of telling Hubs in Korean and HE gets to see the hurt expression on my face when he finally admits what she’s said.

So, it should be an awesomely fun time. If you live in Utah and can think of anything to do with 65 year old evil in-laws, please let me know. So far we have Sushi and going to the temple to see if we can find any Koreans. That’ll blow a couple hours.

Punching a wall day, resentful sickness day, and my adult thing.

I was going to participate in NaBloPoMo, but yesterday a Man Cold descended upon our household, and there was fervent napping on one side and deep seeded resentment and exhaustion on the other. Then after an hour and a half “cool down walk” (which never work for me anyway), and a fight, there was spiteful rug shampooing and heavy sighs and “You didn’t even ask how I felt”s on one side and more resentment and exhaustion and grubling about having to do everything because the world apparently ends when you have a SNIFFLE, and a wish for a shower since it had been two days (now three, where do I find time to do projects? I do not clean myself!) and “You didn’t ask how I felt”s on the other. I have a sore throat and have been sneezing quite a bit, but that’s beside the point.

So, add the day of resentful sickness to the day of me actually punching a wall in anger because of – get this – fighting over choosing a restaurant for our date day….sigh. Not a great weekend. There’s obviously much more to the punching a wall day, but mostly the date was kind of a bust with both of us exhausted from being mad and kind of unable to enjoy the movie or lunch. Dates are so much trouble they’re not even worth it right now, especially if you’re angry (or were angry and are now resigned and tired and your hand hurts from punching a wall) and just going because you have a sitter.
So, fail on the NaBloPoMo, but whatever. I’m supposed to start up at work again tomorrow, left a voicemail essentially saying “you outsourced my job, what do you plan on me doing, and also I have to work from home call me back” and I haven’t heard anything. I don’t quite know what to do about the whole thing, and I have anxious knots in my stomach that I haven’t felt in 3 months. I hate those knots. I think if he hasn’t had the decency to call back by 4:00pm, I’ll call him, and if he doesn’t answer, I’ll call HR and tell them I quit. I don’t need the job, but it would be nice to have the money, the work, the whatever…but I refuse to put MM in day care. I can’t. I won’t. I need him and he needs me and that’s my choice. End of story. So, we’ll see how it goes. I was kind of thinking they’d  bring me back on, realize they had nothing for me to do and then lay me off so I could get unemployment, but that’s no guarantee and I don’t want MM in day care even for what could be a short period of time. I suppose I should feel extremely lucky that we don’t have to put him in daycare and I should just let go of the job, but I cling to it because it’s my adult thing. I don’t want to lose my adult thing. I feel like I’m rambling. I don’t feel well.

Ten weeks!

Four Weeks
Six Weeks
Eight weeks

And a hearty fuck you for taking so many pictures from the boy:

Not only did I labor 40 hours and feel my c-section, now there’s this!

Normal TSH (thyroid) levels are anywhere from .47-4.68 miu/l. Mine? .009. Also, don’t ask me what miu/l means. But, POINT ZERO ZERO NINE.

Let me take a moment here to say this: My name is Parking, and I survived the newborn phase with a nonfunctional thyroid gland.

Jesus. Fucking. Christ. How negligent was my doctor? HOW FUCKING NEGLIGENT?!?!

So, immediate levothyroxine prescription, though I had to say things like “I used to be on this med, my sister/mother/grandmother all had hypothyroidism, I have been depressed and thought it may be my thyroid, I have been trying hard to lose weight and am gaining” to get her to think it was not a fluke hormonal imbalance on my blood test and instead was cause for immediate action.

There were other numbers that were off, that moved her to ask about my drinking habits…which, come on. I’m married to an asian who passes out after a sip of a wine cooler, drinking is no longer fun. AST and ALT were elevated, so that could indicate liver trouble, but not scary enough to worry about it at this point. And, since your thyroid is in charge of everything in the world, probably related.

I found a list of symptoms of hypothyroidism, let me list the ones I have for you:

Poor muscle tone
Fatigue
Cold intolerance, increased sensitivity to cold
Depression
Muscle cramps and joint pain
Carpal Tunnel Syndrome
Paleness
Decreased sweating
Dry, itchy skin
Weight gain and water retention
low heart rate – less than sixty beats per minute (close, it was 63 today and I was nervous as hell)
Constipation
Impaired memory
Impaired cognitive function (brain fog) and inattentiveness
Sluggish reflexes
Shortness of breath with a shallow and slow respiratory pattern.
Increased need for sleep
Irritability and mood instability

Now, how many of those are also pregnancy/postpartum issues? So, though I could blame my shitty-ass doctor, really I should blame myself. The only person who is totally responsible for my health is me. Yes, she probably should have monitored this and perhaps tested my blood when I gained SEVENTY MOTHERFUCKING POUNDS during pregnancy. But, I may have made it not a big deal at the initial appointment when she got my history….even though I told her about my sister, my mother, my grandmother, and the fact that my sister had to get her thyroid removed because of a mass. Really, the only person I can blame is myself, because I did have an hour to wait before my appointment began so that I could get my thoughts together and make sure that she took a look at something I had no idea could get so fucked up during pregnancy. Whatever, I’m bitter. I’m bitter, and I’m not going to  be a dishrag anymore when it comes to my health.

S’more housewife shit.

We got this glass top coffee table in the as-is section of IKEA for, like, 30% of what it originally cost. The damage was minimal and in a place where I have never seen it again. Anyway, we decided that it’s a bit drab to have just the glass looking through to the “wood” underneath, so we’ve decided to start putting seasonal fabrics underneath as a decoration. It really hides the kitty footprints as well.

(There is a keyboard and mouse on the table because our TV is hooked up to a computer, because that is how cool people watch TV. For free, online.)

The pattern has a skeleton, a cat skeleton, and a fish skeleton. Some of the costumes that the human skeleton is wearing I understand, but some….I have no idea. Fisherman with a fish, scuba diver with a fish – odd but I understand, witch with bucket and a fish….okay. Regardless, it’s fun.

We also got “FALL!” and “PENGUINS!” because we don’t like regular christmas crap with angels and doves and peace on earth, we like penguins! Doing things penguins don’t do! You’ll see those ones later.

______

Here’s another project we managed to accomplish without killing ourselves/each other and with two trips to walmart for different hanging devices because our house is made with SHODDY WORKMANSHIP and LOW END MATERIALS. Remember the guest bathroom of doom? I finally got the shelves in that I’ve been waiting to hang since I finished painting…a year ago. Also, I should have re-read that post before putting up the shelves so I could remember that we have to use toggle bolts instead of fancy expanding metal wall anchors

______

Lastly, I walked in on these friends the other day. Could you just DIE?

Choose your own adventure!!

Have you ever read Choose Your Own Adventure books? Let’s read one, shall we?

Around 8:00pm, Hubs will say something along the lines of, “Shall we try and put the baby to bed?” and you laugh. You laugh because apparently this man has not met our baby. But sure, let’s try and put him to bed. You have first shift tonight, and wonder how horrible it will be tonight. You give the baby a bottle full of yummy goodness and he’ll either:

a. Go into a waking food coma where he stares into space until he’s moved (Go to number 1)
b. Not be effected at all and still want to SEE! EVERYTHINGS! (Go to number 2)
c. Fall asleep (Go to number 3)

1) He’s in this little food coma, sometimes tooting out little popping farts. He’s staring at the ceiling light, or the tv (parenting fail), or your face. He does these little half smiles, whole smiles, his face just seems to be doing things without him realizing. If you touch his chin or his cheeks, the corners of his mouth will spring up into a smile. Sometimes he’ll let out a contented sigh, or make a perfect little oooo shape with his lips. While he was eating he was touching his hands, and now they lay all prim and proper folded across his chest. Maybe he’s swaddled, but you’ve left one arm out because you’re slowly trying to help him sleep without swaddles and this is step one. You start thinking his eyes look droopy and you should put him in bed.

a. You put him in bed, walk to the office to check your facebook, and he starts to cry (Go to 2)
b. You stand up, and his eyes lose the glaze with a flash (Go to 2)
c. You play with his teeny hands poking out from the swaddler or folded on his chest (Go to 4)
d. You hear a loud trumpeting squirt sound coming from the direction of his ass  (Go to 5)

2) He’s annoyingly and adorably awake. He wants to test out his huge smiles on you, if you don’t mind. You try desperately to not engage him too much, don’t excite him, don’t talk in that voice he loves. When he’s gleaming with smiles you can’t help but smile back, but you say, “No, no, no…it’s time for bed.” He wants none of it. NONE of it. GODDAMNIT MOMMY I’m bored! This is going to be a long night. With more bottles and pacifiers and dread.

a. He starts the inconsolable crying (Go to 8)
b. You give him tummy times (Go to 4)
c. You accept that he’s not going to sleep any time soon (Go to 7)

3) He’s asleep. His mouth is gaped open and his eyes are shut. You loudly say “Are you asleep? Can we put you to bed?!” to see if he’ll wake to loud sounds. You hold him out in front of you like a platter of food and sprint with as little jostle as possible to the bedroom to put him down

a. It is after one in the morning (Go to 11)
b. It is before one in the morning (Go to 10)

4) This wakes him up

a. He’s in a good mood (Go to 2)
b. He’s in a bad mood (Go to 8)

5) You debate for a while. Does he really need changing right now, or can he sit in it a while. He doesn’t mind sitting in a poopy diaper….maybe I should just change him and then I can rock him back to sleep. Man, I hate undoing the swaddler, then he flips his arms up and stretches and is totally awake. Maybe it wasn’t even a poop…maybe he has more poop so we should wait til next feeding.

a. You change him, he flips his arms up, stretches, and realizes he is on the changing pad, the best place in the world for smiling (Go to 2)
b. You change him, but he just stares at you with the new face he learned recently, concerned face. (Go to 6)
c. You do not change him (Go to 3)

6) You hold him in your arms, do a whoosh, whoosh, shhhh, shhhh noise until you feel like you are hoarse. His head finally lays down on your shoulder. No! He lifts it, rubs his face in your neck, rubs his nose on your shirt, lifts up and slams down his head repeatedly. Then it calms again, lays down, you feel him start to go a little limp.

a. You’re pretty sure he’s asleep, go check him in the mirror (Go to 3)
b. Out of nowhere, he starts screaming  (Go to 8)

7) You realize that he’s going to be a bastard, so you figure you have shit you gotta do anyway and you pack him up in the car to go to the store. He falls asleep in the car, in the stroller, and throughout the whole shopping process. When you get home

a. He wakes up immediately and angrily when there is no longer motion. There is only one choice here. (Go to 8)

8) The crying. Oh lord the crying. No, the screeeeeaming. Hubs has accepted the duty of holding the baby throughout these screams, as my heart rips in two when you cannot help. When you am holding him, you hold him sideways and give him comfort spanks, you rock to the full range of motion of the rocking chair while patting his back and making the whooshing sounds, you do whatever you can and NONE of it works. You feed him, you burp him, you change the diaper, every need has been met, he simply wants to cry.

a. Hand baby to Hubs and attempt to get some work done (Go to 9)
b. Stubbornly hold baby and try to comfort while fighting tears and/or anger (Repeat 8 for a while, then go to 9)

9) Somehow, out of nowhere, he will fall asleep. It will be like this: WHAAAAAAAAAAAA- zzzzz.

a. Hubs has the baby (Go to 3)
b. You have the baby, stand up to put him to sleep (Go to 4)

10) He’s sleeping, you get in bed. You consider mutual masturbation as sex is too much work. You fart.

a. This SOMEHOW woke him up (Go to 8)
b. He’s still asleep (Go to 11)

11) You survive to live another day