Have you ever wondered what city planners were thinking when they named streets? I was driving home today and found myself stopped at a light on the corner of Antonio and Banderas. Gotta tell you, it wasn't as sexy of an intersection as I felt it should be.
But this happens all the time. Totally unfortunate street names that you say to yourself, "why"? On what planet is that ok?
When I drive to my sisters house I pass a street called "Po Avenue". Now, I don't want to go into how many different ways this is wrong, but just say that to yourself for a moment. "Hi, yes, I live on Po Ave"...I just think...that would kind of suck.
In addition to street names, I feel there are towns all over the country that just scream "Inside Joke". I lived in South Florida for a few years, and one of the most expensive areas was "Boca Raton". WTF. That literally means, Rat's Mouth***. Why the fuck would you want to pay a shit-ton of money to live in a Rat's Mouth. In fact, I would spend top dollar just to stay as far away from a rat's mouths as I could. I read in an article about a town called Blue Ball. I mean, clearly that guy was just bitter.
So what do they do, just sit in a room with a beer and think, "You know what would be really funny? What if we called the city "Shiznit" because that would sound awesome on a postcard." In any case, google "Unfortunate City Names" if you want a good laugh...or a bit of disappointment at the lack of creativity of some of the city namers. I personally think if I had to name my town it would be called Funky - just so I could sing the song every time I filled out my address. Won't you take me to...
***UPDATE - apparently, Boca Raton, although literally translated does mean "Mouth Mouse", sources claim that "mouth" refers to inlets and that it was talking about a series of jagged inlets. Whatever, I wouldn't claim to be the Rat's Mouth either.
Job searching when you have no job pretty much blows. If you have worked for a long time, or are used to having a steady amount of work, and suddenly you don't, you go through a sort of identity crisis. You don't really feel like you belong anywhere.
I am going on 5 months out of work, if you include my Maternity Leave time that I was laid off. It's odd...I don't feel normal or like myself at all. I went to a spin class today with a bunch of SAH moms - and I felt completely disconnected from them. It could have something to do with the fact that I pretty much almost puke every time I do a spin class, and all of them live for that shit, so they are screaming and hollering during class - and that just pisses me off, but whatever. Still, I don't identify with the SAH mom...even though, technically I am one, but my kids are in daycare as I job search, so its sort of a hybrid.
Now, let's be serious. Having my kids in day care and just doing whatever the fuck I want is a lifestyle I could become accustom to for a short period of time. Wake up, drink some tea, make lunches, send kids to school, go work out, go to lunch, watch Ellen, maybe get on the computer and fuck around, then pick up kids? Sure, I might be able to do that for a bit. But at the end of the day, I know me...I would be bored as hell, and seriously feel like I have no purpose.
Which brings me to today. I found out that I didn't advance to the next round for a job that would have required a major relocation for my whole family. Honestly, I don't know how I made it to the round I did, but that is beside the point. Overall, rejection just fucking sucks. How do you take it? How do you listen to all those books that tell you to "Let Go" or "Stop Worrying". Fuck that motherfucker - I got a mortgage in Southern California - I ain't got time to stop worrying.
And you know what? Why is that not ok? It's not productive, sure, but fuck - maybe I just want to wallow for a while. I miss my single days where I could just curl up in pajamas on a Friday night, and not get out of bed until Monday morning, doing nothing but eating, drinking "martinis" (basically straight vodka with a splash of flavored water in a martini glass) and binge watching Bravo network. Those weekends ROCKED! I felt like a complete bum, but hell, I was decompressing.
One time, I wallowed so hard, that after 6 consecutive cocktails I decided it was a good idea to go for a run. Please note, I am NOT A RUNNER. Word to the wise, this is NOT a good idea, and never do it. If you weren't a puker to begin with, you will be. And the other people exercising on your trail will not be pleased with your bush puking, especially when they realize you are just a drunk bastard and not working out too hard. So lesson of the day, no drunk depression running - its not a pretty sight.
But alas, once you have kids, you don't have a single moment of weekend time to yourself. By the time you get done with all the sports and gatherings and every other fucking thing that makes you mom shame the weekend away, and you put the kids to bed - you are too exausted to even watch a single episode of anything let alone have some "you" time. So the idea of wallowing at all is just obliterated.
So, when you get rejected for a job, or "ghosted" on applications, or left to basically just rot and wait for something to come along after your endless stream of applications - you just have to pucker up and deal with it. It sucks, but you gotta do it. And your identity crisis - just deepens into an all out personal war in your head. Only time will tell if you can overcome it. Guess you have to - the alternative is just not an option.
So truth be told - I am here because my last company is...well...I can't really say how I feel because my fucking severance agreement says I can't. So I will just let you decide for yourself.
Picture this - you are home, 6 weeks into your Maternity Leave with your second child and you get a text from your boss. Now, let's put this in perspective for a second...you have just had your second C-Section, and all your drugs are gone, so you are starting to feel the actual effects of being cut in half and pulled apart to get your 9lb kid out. Your kid, whom we will just call Buddha Baby eats like 17 times a day, for like 45 minutes each time. Ya. So you feel like one of those pigs you see at the state fair with like 12 piglets sucking on them constantly - and your nipples feel like they are going to fall off, or you wish they would because then you would be out of this misery. So that is where you are at...you are a human dairy, whose sole excitement is binge watching Netflix and Amazon Prime because you can't actually move from the feeding zone spot on the couch. I know there are Mommies out there that know what I mean...nipples unite.
So, back to the story. You get a text from your boss one day, 6 weeks into your Maternity Leave, and since this isn't the first text that you have gotten requesting something, you say "Sure, how about at 9:30". You ask if there is anything you need to prepare, and they say "No". You go on with feeding the baby, while the other kid, that would normally be at school, runs around because you are to drive to visit some family today and you kept her out.
At 9:30, with the PreSchooler babysat by Nick Jr, and the infant on your boob, you get a text saying that you will be called by the Boss and the HR person in 10 minutes. Uh oh. WTF could that mean? Well, for sure it is just to tell you about your friend that you heard was let go. For sure that is what they are calling about.
15 minutes later you get a call, infant still feeding off your boob, and you are told that there has been a reorganization, and your position has been eliminated. You will not be given any more details at this time, since the rest of the team hasn't been informed, but thanks so much for all your hard work. You are so lucky we are telling you now while you are on leave, so you can find another job. Have a nice life.
I'm sorry...whatthefuck? There are so many things wrong here, you can't even catch yourself. First of all, on what fucking planet would telling somebody they have no job while on maternity leave be a favor to them? You know what would be a favor? A wet nurse, a nanny, and a keggerator of Goose and Soda. A job loss - um no.
As the conversation continues, the Preschooler is running in and out of the room screaming that she wants a different channel, and Buddha needs a new boob. You try to hear about details for severance and everything else, and yet, you can't, because the pitch of a 4 year old is like the most annoying white noise you have ever heard, that sort of just blocks everything else out.
So here you are. Fat, sore, half-naked and unemployed. Awesome. Oh, and you are in physical therapy because carrying BuddhaBaby damn near killed you. So ya...this is great.
It's 4 months later, almost to the day, and I got my severance package about a month ago. I have been job searching, but it is hard. I am contemplating what I do next. I can't afford to keep my kid in daycare with no job, and I can't justify being a stay at home mom - because I love my kids too much. So...I decided to start blogging. Not sure if anyone will listen, don't really care. Just need to get some of this shit off my chest and vent.
So, welcome to Mommy Drives a Turbo. I hope you enjoy the show.
Foul mouthed, outspoken and pretty much an eternal realist.