Pregnant F-Bomber

May 09, 2005
Well – I’m here having one of those rare “I woke up too late and didn’t get to wash my hair and now my bangs look like Winona Ryder’s in Beetlejuice only they’re not separated into cute little points by expensive Hollywood hairgel, but by a combo of scalp and forehead oils” days.

Not happy – but I’ve ranted about such hair nonsense on a few other blog occasions so I decline to continue.

So yesterday was my first real Mother’s Day. (Actually, I secretly plan to count next year’s Mother’s Day as my first real one too.) It was a good day all in all. Went to church, which was great. It’s funny how I’ll be so tired and I won’t want to go, but in the end I’m never sorry that I went.

Anyway – we had lunch at his parents’ down in Pierre Part. Brandon the chef cooked crawfish bisque. It was really good.

We also went to Baby Grand at Woman’s Hospital on Saturday. I ran into my old best friend – the one my Stepmom told me was pregnant a few months ago and it depressed me because I wasn’t pregnant and we were going to stop trying (only I was pregnant and didn’t know it). Anyway – that was neat.

We didn’t win anything though. I was quite bitter about that. Then Chad got called in to work – so the afternoon was shot. Actually – I went to my dad’s and got my face waxed (my Stepmom is a manicurist/pedicurist/face waxist). It seems that I’m growing a beard and Elvis sideburns thanks to my hormonal wackiness.

My dad and Sara have offered us daycare for $50 a week (because she would lose business if she switched to taking care of our baby every day.) I think we’re totally going to take them up on it. I’ve been shopping around and daycare is FUCKING EXPENSIVE. And yes, I’m calling it FUCKING expensive, because it is! There is no other nice way to put it.

I’ve been through quite a lovely range of emotions today which included – Teeth Clenching Moments of Hostility Towards This Office’s Lack of Paid Maternity Leave and Tearful Breakdowns While Reading Anniversary Cards at Hallmark (tomorrow is my 2 year wedding anniversary and CHAD if you’re reading this I guess this is a reminder although I wasn’t going to remind you at all as a bitchy test and then if you forgot, I was going to go BUCK NASTY WILD on your ass – and NOT the good kind of nasty – the screaming hysterical kind of nasty.)

Anyway – as it turns out – I have no paid maternity. I have FMLA – the Family Medical Leave Act – which says that you can take up to 12 weeks of UNPAID leave and they won’t give your job to someone else.
I don’t know about you, but the last time I checked, 3 month’s salary is QUITE A FUCKING DENT!!! ESPECIALLY when you are having to stock up on a landfill’s worth of diapers and other baby accessories. So, I say to them (I won’t even go into who they are exactly) –

Well what about short-term disability.

Oh we don’t have short-term disability here

Okay then. So what?

So you have to use your sick time and annual time towards your leave.

Ummm – but that’s only like 3 weeks or something?

Well that’s just how it is.

This is the part where I should have gone Norma Rae on their asses and scrawled PAID MATERNITY on some cardboard with a sharpie. Actually, the only thing within reach is a blank sheet of tabloid size paper. That might have worked. A little flimsy . . . but.

In case you don’t know the reference, here’s a photo:

If I would have felt like it, I may have morphed my face onto Sally Field’s and changed the sign, but I’m tired.

Anyway – so I made this outrageously complicated chart for the first 5 hours of this morning plotting out exactly how much time I would accrue between now and then and how much I would need and all that in relation to the alignment of the planets and it turns out that I’m FUCKING SCREWED!!!!

It turns out that if I try to stay out for the entire allotted time, that I will lose almost $4000 of salary. It takes most people a year to save up that kind of money. Or maybe not most people, but debt drowning people like me. I’ve never even saved FOUR dollars, much less. . .

So you’re saying – well just go back early.

Well – maybe that’s the bottom line. Maybe I have to. Good thing we’re going to use my Dad and Sara because most daycares won’t even take a baby until its 6 weeks old.

Of course, my chart didn’t even consider the horrific prospect of bedrest which is highly likely for a fat pregnant woman. If that happens . . . I just don’t know. Actually, I called AFLAC this morning and they said they would “cover” bedrest time, just not maternity leave. I don’t know what they mean by cover. Guess I will find out on Wednesday when the representative gets here.
In the meantime – I am greasy. I am disgruntled. I am tired.

I am pregnant woman – hear me whine!!!

2:18 p.m. ::
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