No, not because I really needed a new source for underground viagra, or to 'make many moneys on the web', but for the laugh. I needed it...
I'd enabled anonymous comments on this blog, mainly because I hate having to log in elsewhere to comment, so I went all 'do unto others'. Until recently I'd not been on the receiving end of comment spam, in fact, I was unaware such a thing existed, but I guess my blog has been around just long enough to get spidered by the spambots, and my has my comment traffic gone up!
I haven't had 2 seconds to rub together, much less the 30+ minutes needed to post, but there's a difference between a lull in posting, and letting your blog totally go to seed. Not pretty wildflower seed, kudzu seed. THAT you FIND time to stop so I finally got in here today to do some clean up.
In the comment purge the vast majority were total wastes of vowels - but this gem stood out from the rest for it's sheer ee cummings artistry. I've been collecting spam emails for a while for the eloquence of their randomness. And for giggles. But this tops them all - If this isn't poetry, I don't know what is....
Ladies and Gentlemen, I present "The Ulysses of His System" - enjoy the poetic artistry:
Send where us
at ground, varies its possible "family set"?
Countrywide financial corporation, the explicit introduction import, that has used to convey agentic of
the systems of
the compulsory setup d a t a b a s e .
Many side motorcycles were an special world
information to adopt the number belts,
deformed - with the slot for both
the gun
and
players,
but were a story, since
biological equipment of the references built a special stage
of the crime
and vast gauge of the projected car
(unless the grass was offset with limits from the flexibility. )
used cars
delray beach.
These remedies, and the hand model points . . . that wireless!
(when they show)
can affect concentration
and single automakers
and measure our car
and sensor of the lake.
Car upholstery
chicagp,
wilson, (usually played as valerie plame),
and the bush dust's barre for 2003 administration of iraq
and the iraq war.
Reingested
of the trench tires
has an hybrid auto of material.
Jasper is running. . .where?
the available bleeding gums, murphy decides, nearly.
As level students pulled
the ulysses of his system,
Monoxide, they found - a applied corresponding drawback.
-SPAMART #3
(All the original artists words and spelling were retained intact - spacing and some punctuation contributed by me)
Monday, March 22, 2010
Wednesday, January 13, 2010
New Year's Resolutions - Twenty10s in 2010.
I've been ruminating on my New Year's Resolutions for a while now. Part of it is my usual info junkieism/bigger, better, stronger, faster perfectionist side (And I admit it). But the larger part of the intense thought is wanting to really change things. While I, overall, am quite happy with my life, I know in my heart of hearts that my life could be. . . well, easier, more FUN.
I've been doing a lot of reflecting and research and drafting and redrafting of my life style reboot, and will continue to work on it for the foreseeable future. I gave myself permission for it to be an ongoing process, but I have locked at least a few things down. I decided that I would come up with Twenty10s for 2010. Twenty "10" framed goals for the year. For example: I will lose 10% of my body weight, I will avoid sodas for 10 weeks straight, I will invest at least 10 minutes a day in growing my friendships (a call, an email, a dinner - SOMEthing). You get the idea. The BIG "10" goals will be lined up roughly one per month, since it takes 3-4 weeks for a habit to stick, and I want to be sane about this. The rest of the 10s will come up, well, whenever they occur to me.
While researching ideas my Twenty10s I ran into a NYT article - "Carpe Diem? Maybe Tomorrow" based on this study on "Resource Slack". The upshot is people somehow expect that they will have more time in "The Future", so we put things off, even fun things, until "later" when there will be (magically) more time to do them. However, on average, people will be just as busy in a month as they are now. For some reason, we don't get that. And these fun, or not so fun but important things just don't get done.
This was an eye-opener for me. I realized how often I fell prey to this thinking - that I'd do something next weekend, or later, because I'd have more time then. Except there won't be more time - you can't grow it or create it. It's a constant, so it's really about how you choose to fill it.
Even worse, I'd gotten trapped in the mindset that there 'isn't enough time'.
'Not enough' is a judgment - not enough time, not enough money, not enough space. It all is, what it is. Pushing against the reality with a crabbity attitude isn't going to change the truth of things - it will just make you more crabbity. The amount of time is a constant, and it won't change. The same thing applies to our home, 'not enough' space, and our bank account, 'not enough' money. There is just as much space as there is, and just as much time as there is, and just as much money as there is, and being frustrated that something isn't what it isn't - ain't helping. I simply have to figure out how to work within the real restrictions of what's there, or not there.
In a way, though I am right - there ISN'T enough time for everything I'm trying to do - there are only 24 hours in the day. Period. So whatever I do has to fit within those constraints. In prioritizing what to tackle first, I realized one of the biggest time sucks I have, is the stuff. The more stuff you have, the more stuff you have to clean, sort, stack, maintain, manage, or otherwise just DEAL with. So the shortcut to more time, is, oddly, less stuff. In one fell mind-set swoop I've gone from 'not enough' to 'too much'.
Plus, getting rid of stuff has benefits across the board - there isn't enough space for everything we own, so less stuff means more room. And less stuff means BUYING less stuff, which means spending less money which = working within our budget. Win/win/win/win!
Which leads me to my first big 10 of 2010. Get rid of 10 things a day. Every day. No matter how tired or busy or cranky - at least 10 things need to be gathered up and ushered out of my life. On weekends, the count goes much much higher, but every day, rock bottom minimum - 10 things. I've gotten a solid start on the 'things' part of decluttering by just picking away at it - 10 things a day. It's working, and I'm sticking too it, because it's doable. Once the momentum has started, its a bit easier to keep it going, because it feels so good. Things feel easier already.
Decluttering day to day tasks, commitments, to-dos - all those are up next, and they will free up even more time, but for now, one thing at a time - because there's only so much time to go around...
If anyone wants to join me on my Twenty10s in 2010 - I'd love to have company! I'll be posting on my Twenty10s throughout the next few months (and probably the whole year). Post your own starting "10"s in the comments and keep us updated on progress, via blog links, twitter hashtag #twenty10s, or new comments.
I've been doing a lot of reflecting and research and drafting and redrafting of my life style reboot, and will continue to work on it for the foreseeable future. I gave myself permission for it to be an ongoing process, but I have locked at least a few things down. I decided that I would come up with Twenty10s for 2010. Twenty "10" framed goals for the year. For example: I will lose 10% of my body weight, I will avoid sodas for 10 weeks straight, I will invest at least 10 minutes a day in growing my friendships (a call, an email, a dinner - SOMEthing). You get the idea. The BIG "10" goals will be lined up roughly one per month, since it takes 3-4 weeks for a habit to stick, and I want to be sane about this. The rest of the 10s will come up, well, whenever they occur to me.
While researching ideas my Twenty10s I ran into a NYT article - "Carpe Diem? Maybe Tomorrow" based on this study on "Resource Slack". The upshot is people somehow expect that they will have more time in "The Future", so we put things off, even fun things, until "later" when there will be (magically) more time to do them. However, on average, people will be just as busy in a month as they are now. For some reason, we don't get that. And these fun, or not so fun but important things just don't get done.
This was an eye-opener for me. I realized how often I fell prey to this thinking - that I'd do something next weekend, or later, because I'd have more time then. Except there won't be more time - you can't grow it or create it. It's a constant, so it's really about how you choose to fill it.
Even worse, I'd gotten trapped in the mindset that there 'isn't enough time'.
'Not enough' is a judgment - not enough time, not enough money, not enough space. It all is, what it is. Pushing against the reality with a crabbity attitude isn't going to change the truth of things - it will just make you more crabbity. The amount of time is a constant, and it won't change. The same thing applies to our home, 'not enough' space, and our bank account, 'not enough' money. There is just as much space as there is, and just as much time as there is, and just as much money as there is, and being frustrated that something isn't what it isn't - ain't helping. I simply have to figure out how to work within the real restrictions of what's there, or not there.
In a way, though I am right - there ISN'T enough time for everything I'm trying to do - there are only 24 hours in the day. Period. So whatever I do has to fit within those constraints. In prioritizing what to tackle first, I realized one of the biggest time sucks I have, is the stuff. The more stuff you have, the more stuff you have to clean, sort, stack, maintain, manage, or otherwise just DEAL with. So the shortcut to more time, is, oddly, less stuff. In one fell mind-set swoop I've gone from 'not enough' to 'too much'.
Plus, getting rid of stuff has benefits across the board - there isn't enough space for everything we own, so less stuff means more room. And less stuff means BUYING less stuff, which means spending less money which = working within our budget. Win/win/win/win!
Which leads me to my first big 10 of 2010. Get rid of 10 things a day. Every day. No matter how tired or busy or cranky - at least 10 things need to be gathered up and ushered out of my life. On weekends, the count goes much much higher, but every day, rock bottom minimum - 10 things. I've gotten a solid start on the 'things' part of decluttering by just picking away at it - 10 things a day. It's working, and I'm sticking too it, because it's doable. Once the momentum has started, its a bit easier to keep it going, because it feels so good. Things feel easier already.
Decluttering day to day tasks, commitments, to-dos - all those are up next, and they will free up even more time, but for now, one thing at a time - because there's only so much time to go around...
If anyone wants to join me on my Twenty10s in 2010 - I'd love to have company! I'll be posting on my Twenty10s throughout the next few months (and probably the whole year). Post your own starting "10"s in the comments and keep us updated on progress, via blog links, twitter hashtag #twenty10s, or new comments.
Wednesday, November 4, 2009
Wordless Wednesday - Love
GrandPa and The Bean (and Elmo, of course)Thank goodness for Wordless Wednesdays, it's the only post I have time to make these days...
Thursday, August 6, 2009
Stop the madness!
Life is just hectic - and I'm not sure why. Oh wait, yes, I do know this one. I have a toddler. And a full time job. Both of these are good things - but they are squeezing out pretty much everything else, save occasional errands and my husband. Friends have been relegated to Facebook and Twitter, and face to face contact with anyone I don't a) live with or b) work with had become a rare and exotic occurrence. Which, frankly, sucks. And forget hobbies - the art that I love and can't find time for. The craft projects undone. Blogs unwritten - it's all falling away. And this is SO not cool. Don't get me wrong, I get the life balance CONCEPT, but the practical application part is where it all collapses.
There's also some portion of the fast. cheap, and right theory that ends up applying. Since the Hubble is going back to school full time, we are on a bit of a budget. A lot of the 'tips' designed to help a working women achieve life balance assume a certain amount of disposable income - hiring a mother's helper a few times a week, having meals delivered regularly, outsourcing the day to day basically. Good in theory but not practical to the pocketbook. Daycare pretty much cleans out the disposable income category.
Mercifully, the Hubble is generally a rock star and helps out tremendously with the Bean and around the house. But school is starting back full time in a couple of weeks and even that help is going to be less available. So how to do it? How do you do it all?
The bottom line is, you can't. That's what no one bothers to tell woman - that this bring home the bacon, fry it up in the pan crap is just that crap. There are inviolable limits in the real world - things take time, and time doesn't expand. (Well, unless you want to get all string theory, and I just don't have the brain power to even consider the implications.) Mother's kill themselves chasing the impossible dream of having it all - and then getting confused and frustrated and resentful when they seem to never be able to achieve this 'balanced' state. What they don't realize is that there are simply too many things to balance.
Working full time means that during the week, I get very little time with the most precious knee-high creature in my life since she's zonked by 7:30. That means weekends are all about family time. Which in turn pushes out friends and me-time. And all of these are vital to me being sane. So what to do?
The past year and 1/2 have forced me to come to the conclusion that to achieve this mythical work life balance, you have to give things up. Maybe just for a day or a week or a year, but you can NOT have it all, and you will drive yourself batty trying. Many women give up work for a a couple of years, so they can focus on their child. This has a bunch of pros and cons, but for me, it's moot. With the hubs in school full-time my income is it. It's all good because he's building a future for ALL of us with his new degree. But it does mean I have to be a 'can't lose' employee at work, which means zero slacking allowed. So working ain't going anywhere, but the other pieces and parts that make up a fulfilling life, friends, time with the little one, time with the Hubble, time for ME, those parts can bend and move and twist. And bend and move they must - time to start giving it up, cause I can't have it all - at least not all AT THE SAME TIME. So with that mind set, I've started the horse trading.
This weekend, I'm going to have some over-night friend time (a high school reunion/birthday event), and in 3 weeks, a girl's weekend. A couple of weeks after that, I'm taking 7 days off work, and the Hubble, Stinky Bean and I are going on vacation together. So I'm trading family for friends, then I'm trading work for family. The art - my personal passions, those I'm still working on - what do I swap for those and when, but I know I'll find some time, sometime. Ultimately, it's a shell game - there's never enough time for everything. But, if you are able to say 'not now' there is enough time for SOME things.
So ladies - you can't have it all, all the time, at the same time - but over time, with some juggling and compromise and a serious resetting of expectations - you CAN have an awful lot of it...
screw this bringing home the bacon and frying up in a pan crap - the new marching orders? I'm going to have my bacon and eat it too - so there.
There's also some portion of the fast. cheap, and right theory that ends up applying. Since the Hubble is going back to school full time, we are on a bit of a budget. A lot of the 'tips' designed to help a working women achieve life balance assume a certain amount of disposable income - hiring a mother's helper a few times a week, having meals delivered regularly, outsourcing the day to day basically. Good in theory but not practical to the pocketbook. Daycare pretty much cleans out the disposable income category.
Mercifully, the Hubble is generally a rock star and helps out tremendously with the Bean and around the house. But school is starting back full time in a couple of weeks and even that help is going to be less available. So how to do it? How do you do it all?
The bottom line is, you can't. That's what no one bothers to tell woman - that this bring home the bacon, fry it up in the pan crap is just that crap. There are inviolable limits in the real world - things take time, and time doesn't expand. (Well, unless you want to get all string theory, and I just don't have the brain power to even consider the implications.) Mother's kill themselves chasing the impossible dream of having it all - and then getting confused and frustrated and resentful when they seem to never be able to achieve this 'balanced' state. What they don't realize is that there are simply too many things to balance.
Working full time means that during the week, I get very little time with the most precious knee-high creature in my life since she's zonked by 7:30. That means weekends are all about family time. Which in turn pushes out friends and me-time. And all of these are vital to me being sane. So what to do?
The past year and 1/2 have forced me to come to the conclusion that to achieve this mythical work life balance, you have to give things up. Maybe just for a day or a week or a year, but you can NOT have it all, and you will drive yourself batty trying. Many women give up work for a a couple of years, so they can focus on their child. This has a bunch of pros and cons, but for me, it's moot. With the hubs in school full-time my income is it. It's all good because he's building a future for ALL of us with his new degree. But it does mean I have to be a 'can't lose' employee at work, which means zero slacking allowed. So working ain't going anywhere, but the other pieces and parts that make up a fulfilling life, friends, time with the little one, time with the Hubble, time for ME, those parts can bend and move and twist. And bend and move they must - time to start giving it up, cause I can't have it all - at least not all AT THE SAME TIME. So with that mind set, I've started the horse trading.
This weekend, I'm going to have some over-night friend time (a high school reunion/birthday event), and in 3 weeks, a girl's weekend. A couple of weeks after that, I'm taking 7 days off work, and the Hubble, Stinky Bean and I are going on vacation together. So I'm trading family for friends, then I'm trading work for family. The art - my personal passions, those I'm still working on - what do I swap for those and when, but I know I'll find some time, sometime. Ultimately, it's a shell game - there's never enough time for everything. But, if you are able to say 'not now' there is enough time for SOME things.
So ladies - you can't have it all, all the time, at the same time - but over time, with some juggling and compromise and a serious resetting of expectations - you CAN have an awful lot of it...
screw this bringing home the bacon and frying up in a pan crap - the new marching orders? I'm going to have my bacon and eat it too - so there.
Friday, July 24, 2009
Fake or Real?
I've been watching the Blogher '09 tweets fly fast and furious for the past few days and feeling a combination of regret and relief that I'm not there. Regret because it sounds like such FUN - and so many people who I've gotten to know and really like through twitter and their blogs are there, all in one place. I could meet them in person! And that's where the relief kicks in... there's a certain safety in the 'anonymity' of tweeting and blogging. But once you meet someone IRL, once you can put a face to the name, things change. It's the Seinfeld "world's colliding" scenario.
Online life is often completely segregated from real world. In some cases its logistics. Some of my favorite twitter friends are in Canada, and Seattle, and Maine. It would be tough for us to get together for lunch. But Blogher, THAT we could coordinate, maybe. But what if we don't like each other in person, what if it just doesn't translate? That would just blow, but odds are, that's the last thing that would happen. People are who they are, regardless of which world they are in... If you like someone on line, you'll like them in person.
The other source of the relief centers on the conference itself. It's a BLOGGING conference - If I went to Blogher, since I'm an attendee and a chick, people would think that *I* was a BLOGGER. I'd be totally misrepresenting. *I*m not a blogger.... I mean, yes, I have a blog - you are reading it, so you know that. But I'm not, like, a BLOGGER. REAL bloggers post every single day, and make money and have sponsors and fans and banner ads and are so WAAAAAY cooler than me. I just blog sometimes, I'm not really a BLOGGER. HerBadMother and Sweetney (really everyone at MamaPop), and basically all the smart clever women I've met on twitter, THOSE are BLOGGERS. Me? I'm a just chick with a Blog...(see: 'Impostor Syndrome')
But maybe, just maybe, not everyone at that conference makes six figures a year off of their adsense accounts. Maybe the conference is full of women just like me - normal people, who blog when they can, as best they can, not because they have a huge adoring audience who demands it, but because they like to - who go to the conference because they want to meet other people, just like them, who just blog for the love of it.
Or maybe they go just for the swag...
Either way, I'm thinking I need to start saving now for 2010...
Online life is often completely segregated from real world. In some cases its logistics. Some of my favorite twitter friends are in Canada, and Seattle, and Maine. It would be tough for us to get together for lunch. But Blogher, THAT we could coordinate, maybe. But what if we don't like each other in person, what if it just doesn't translate? That would just blow, but odds are, that's the last thing that would happen. People are who they are, regardless of which world they are in... If you like someone on line, you'll like them in person.
The other source of the relief centers on the conference itself. It's a BLOGGING conference - If I went to Blogher, since I'm an attendee and a chick, people would think that *I* was a BLOGGER. I'd be totally misrepresenting. *I*m not a blogger.... I mean, yes, I have a blog - you are reading it, so you know that. But I'm not, like, a BLOGGER. REAL bloggers post every single day, and make money and have sponsors and fans and banner ads and are so WAAAAAY cooler than me. I just blog sometimes, I'm not really a BLOGGER. HerBadMother and Sweetney (really everyone at MamaPop), and basically all the smart clever women I've met on twitter, THOSE are BLOGGERS. Me? I'm a just chick with a Blog...(see: 'Impostor Syndrome')
But maybe, just maybe, not everyone at that conference makes six figures a year off of their adsense accounts. Maybe the conference is full of women just like me - normal people, who blog when they can, as best they can, not because they have a huge adoring audience who demands it, but because they like to - who go to the conference because they want to meet other people, just like them, who just blog for the love of it.
Or maybe they go just for the swag...
Either way, I'm thinking I need to start saving now for 2010...
Friday, July 10, 2009
I have nothing
Really. I've got nothin'. Which is surprising since I normally have a million ideas, and words and just STUFF bouncing around in my brain, but recently... nada. Just a yearning for sleep and endless to do lists. And this bothers me more than you can imagine. I'm not sure the WHYs of this change, but I wish I did know. My deep and abiding fear is that I used up all of my creativity making a human from scratch and I've got nothing left.
I LOVE being creative, it is a big part of who I am and how I view myself - but these days, I'm suffering from an identity crisis. I sleep I work I hang with the Hubble and I care for the Stinks - and it's all good, but I don't create. I make dinner, I don't make art. I'm suffering from a severe and measurable lack of inspiration.
Is it because I am exhausted? I hope so. Or because I haven't put anything inspiring into my brain? Maybe. I'm really really hoping that its lifestyle or tiredness or not visiting enough art galleries. See these options are fixable - they would mean that I'm still creative - I'm just too tired or busy to DO it. And that can be changed. My fear is that I'm not creative anymore. That I've lost that spark - that I gave birth to it, or that is just died from lack of tending and that I'll never get it back. And that terrifies me. So much so, that it's a self fulfilling prophecy. I'm now afraid to even TRY to create - to force it without the inspiration, because what if it really IS gone? Then what? The who am I? And thus begins the panic.
Something is going to have to change though - I need creativity in my life - it's who I am - or at least who I was. I'm going to have to take a class, or paint something, or sculpt something - I'm going to have to find out if, somewhere under all the powerpoint presentations and spreadsheets and budgets and laundry, there is still a woman who can make beautiful things. Because if not... well... I don't want to even think about that...
I LOVE being creative, it is a big part of who I am and how I view myself - but these days, I'm suffering from an identity crisis. I sleep I work I hang with the Hubble and I care for the Stinks - and it's all good, but I don't create. I make dinner, I don't make art. I'm suffering from a severe and measurable lack of inspiration.
Is it because I am exhausted? I hope so. Or because I haven't put anything inspiring into my brain? Maybe. I'm really really hoping that its lifestyle or tiredness or not visiting enough art galleries. See these options are fixable - they would mean that I'm still creative - I'm just too tired or busy to DO it. And that can be changed. My fear is that I'm not creative anymore. That I've lost that spark - that I gave birth to it, or that is just died from lack of tending and that I'll never get it back. And that terrifies me. So much so, that it's a self fulfilling prophecy. I'm now afraid to even TRY to create - to force it without the inspiration, because what if it really IS gone? Then what? The who am I? And thus begins the panic.
Something is going to have to change though - I need creativity in my life - it's who I am - or at least who I was. I'm going to have to take a class, or paint something, or sculpt something - I'm going to have to find out if, somewhere under all the powerpoint presentations and spreadsheets and budgets and laundry, there is still a woman who can make beautiful things. Because if not... well... I don't want to even think about that...
Wednesday, June 17, 2009
Tuesday, June 9, 2009
Bad to the bone
Her Bad Mother: The Bad Mother Manifesto
First of all - go read this. Right now. (insert Musak version of Purple Rain)you done?
Back now?
OK - let's discuss.
This post was eye-opening to me and apparently to many many other mothers. What was eye-opening to ME is that many other mothers found it eye-opening. And that is sad.
For those of you who lied and said they read that post without actually reading the brilliance, let me summerize - Media definitions of 'good mothering' are ridonkulous, dehibilitiating, demoralizing and full of crap, and we, meaning all mothers, should rise up and call bullsh*t on it all. We need to shrug off the yoke of stupid expectations and just focus on loving our kids and being honest with them, and ourselves, and especially, each other.
I love this, but was a little surprised at how many mothers were shocked, SHOCKED, to discover that other mothers struggle. That other mothers aren't perfect and don't color coordinate their kids socks, or home make baby food, or spend hours developing their tot's brains with classical music and latin flashcards. Good God people you have a child, you should know better than to buy that crap! MOST mothers are excited when everyone, including themselves, simply survives the day.
I started my blog when I was pregnant, and I didn't glow, I bloated. I didn't have magical dreams, I barely slept. I didn't float, I could barely walk without blinding cootchie pain. It sucked, and I was pretty clear about that from day one. I guess that honesty just stayed intact, cause I am more than happy to post about just how much of a butt-head my beloved child is becoming now that toddler-hood has hit. And about the suckitude of every other stage to date, 'cause, well, it's true. I'm also just as happy to blog about the sheer joy of hearing her giggle, and the thrill of her learning how to give a kiss (I will regret teaching her that when the hormones kick in I'm sure). I'm pretty bummed to discover that approach is not the norm.
I think the reason that I was mostly able to avoid falling prey to the 'perfect mom' syndrome is because I have amazing friends, both real and virtual. Mommies who aren't afraid to say, I love my kid, but I don't much LIKE them right at this moment. Friend who said, ignore the hype, just do what feels right. Twitter moms and blogger moms who are huge fans of gnomes, and bubblewrap, and Xanax, and who always offer sympathetic non-judgmental support when you have a 'holy f I'm losing my mind' mommy moment. And there are many of those.
The worst days were the early ones, when you are exhausted and clueless and terrified. That's when the 'authorities' can really get in your head and screw with you. The sheer panic and desperation of the early days of your first child can not be overestimated. It's horrible. And who do you turn to? No one teaches you how to be a mom, all you have are the books and the tv shows and the news articles. I think this is a core failing of life as we know it today - everyone is mobile, no one is anchored and we've lost the community of mom's next door and grandmothers passing on their knowledge (however flawed), and the history of mothers helping mothers.
Or we had, until the mommy blogger phenominon. Women like HerBadMother and every single mother who ever wrote a blog post, commented on a blog post, even read a blog post, tweeted dug or facebooked. We are rebuilding that vital community that we all need to be mothers. We are sharing knowledge, and creating the support network that can guide us and help us as we perform the most difficult job in the world - raising a child. Specifically raising a child to not be a d*ckhead.
And all communities, all relationships are built on trust, and trust comes from honesty. So mommies who blog, mommies who comment, mommies who just talk to other mommies on the playground - don't lie. Tell the truth - if you are struggling, SAY you are struggling, it gives the rest of us the chance to help. If another mother tells you she is struggling, don't be a d*ckhead yourself - HELP! Tell the truth, tell them you were there, tell them you survived, tell them what you wish someone had told YOU when you were in the same place. Don't front to make yourself look good. It's selfish and dishonest and isolating to the parties on both sides. You deny all of us the opportunity to help or to be helped, and you feed the ultimate lie - that there is a RIGHT wat to mommy.
We all deserve better than that.
Love your kid, love yourself, and tell the truth, for it shall set you free...
Preach on HerBadMother!
First of all - go read this. Right now. (insert Musak version of Purple Rain)
Back now?
OK - let's discuss.
This post was eye-opening to me and apparently to many many other mothers. What was eye-opening to ME is that many other mothers found it eye-opening. And that is sad.
For those of you who lied and said they read that post without actually reading the brilliance, let me summerize - Media definitions of 'good mothering' are ridonkulous, dehibilitiating, demoralizing and full of crap, and we, meaning all mothers, should rise up and call bullsh*t on it all. We need to shrug off the yoke of stupid expectations and just focus on loving our kids and being honest with them, and ourselves, and especially, each other.
I love this, but was a little surprised at how many mothers were shocked, SHOCKED, to discover that other mothers struggle. That other mothers aren't perfect and don't color coordinate their kids socks, or home make baby food, or spend hours developing their tot's brains with classical music and latin flashcards. Good God people you have a child, you should know better than to buy that crap! MOST mothers are excited when everyone, including themselves, simply survives the day.
I started my blog when I was pregnant, and I didn't glow, I bloated. I didn't have magical dreams, I barely slept. I didn't float, I could barely walk without blinding cootchie pain. It sucked, and I was pretty clear about that from day one. I guess that honesty just stayed intact, cause I am more than happy to post about just how much of a butt-head my beloved child is becoming now that toddler-hood has hit. And about the suckitude of every other stage to date, 'cause, well, it's true. I'm also just as happy to blog about the sheer joy of hearing her giggle, and the thrill of her learning how to give a kiss (I will regret teaching her that when the hormones kick in I'm sure). I'm pretty bummed to discover that approach is not the norm.
I think the reason that I was mostly able to avoid falling prey to the 'perfect mom' syndrome is because I have amazing friends, both real and virtual. Mommies who aren't afraid to say, I love my kid, but I don't much LIKE them right at this moment. Friend who said, ignore the hype, just do what feels right. Twitter moms and blogger moms who are huge fans of gnomes, and bubblewrap, and Xanax, and who always offer sympathetic non-judgmental support when you have a 'holy f I'm losing my mind' mommy moment. And there are many of those.
The worst days were the early ones, when you are exhausted and clueless and terrified. That's when the 'authorities' can really get in your head and screw with you. The sheer panic and desperation of the early days of your first child can not be overestimated. It's horrible. And who do you turn to? No one teaches you how to be a mom, all you have are the books and the tv shows and the news articles. I think this is a core failing of life as we know it today - everyone is mobile, no one is anchored and we've lost the community of mom's next door and grandmothers passing on their knowledge (however flawed), and the history of mothers helping mothers.
Or we had, until the mommy blogger phenominon. Women like HerBadMother and every single mother who ever wrote a blog post, commented on a blog post, even read a blog post, tweeted dug or facebooked. We are rebuilding that vital community that we all need to be mothers. We are sharing knowledge, and creating the support network that can guide us and help us as we perform the most difficult job in the world - raising a child. Specifically raising a child to not be a d*ckhead.
And all communities, all relationships are built on trust, and trust comes from honesty. So mommies who blog, mommies who comment, mommies who just talk to other mommies on the playground - don't lie. Tell the truth - if you are struggling, SAY you are struggling, it gives the rest of us the chance to help. If another mother tells you she is struggling, don't be a d*ckhead yourself - HELP! Tell the truth, tell them you were there, tell them you survived, tell them what you wish someone had told YOU when you were in the same place. Don't front to make yourself look good. It's selfish and dishonest and isolating to the parties on both sides. You deny all of us the opportunity to help or to be helped, and you feed the ultimate lie - that there is a RIGHT wat to mommy.
We all deserve better than that.
Love your kid, love yourself, and tell the truth, for it shall set you free...
Preach on HerBadMother!
Friday, June 5, 2009
Vacation?
Vacation is all about rest and relaxation, right? Well, yes, if you are single, or even a couple (provided the descriptor is 'happy'), but throw a kid in the mix and relaxing isn't really the word anymore. It can be fun, or interesting, but with a kid, regardless of setting, there is no downtime. Especially if your special little kidlet loathes napping. And toting the sheer volume of crap involved with kid care is a passel of work in and of itself. I freely admit to being an overpacker, but not to any level of insanity, just, you know, a few too many outfits for the circumstances. Not 3 suitcases worth or anything. I say this with mild defensiveness considering our car was literally packed to the ceiling with baby crap. In the end, we used nearly all of it, so I felt somewhat vindicated. I also found myself thinking, you know, maybe a minivan isn't such a bad idea...
A little vacation compare and contrast for those of you living the kid free life -
With Baby - The 4-hour drive required a food stop, a diaper stop, a run around in circles stop, and a juice stop along the way.
Before Baby - 4 -hour drive is done in 3 hours and you pee in a cup to get to the beach faster.
With Baby - pack the car with 47 cubic tons of baby crap
Before Baby - put underware, swimsuit, and a credit card in a backpack and call it overpacking.
With Baby - stay at a 2 star motel 'suite' with a fridge for the milk, a microwave for the baby food, and 2 rooms so you have somewhere to hide when the baby goes to bed at 7pm (at least until you go to bed at 8pm).
Before Baby - stay at a 5 star hotel suite with a jacuzzi tub and a king size bed covered in 1000 treadcount linens that you never use cause you are out at the swim up bar until 2am, before swinging over to the all night on grounds club to do jello shots, and end up sleeping on the beach.
With Baby - spend 45 minutes setting up all the beach canopies, blankies, towels and toys, only to bundle them all back up 30 minutes later when you realized how badly you mis-timed the need for napping as indicated by the ear-bleeding screaming so shrill it brought the lifeguard over to your encampment just to 'check in'.
Without Baby - arrive at the beach at 6am with towel and book, lie down, nap, roll over, drink a fruity drink, nap, roll over again, read, nap, and leave at 6pm.
Ah, how times have changed.
In spite of the last night being chockfull of teething misery, overall, for baby's first vacation, I declare the trip a success. Every last bit of it was worth it for this:
Friday, May 15, 2009
Mother's Day Surprise
The Hubble took me and The Bean out for breakfast on Mother's Day. What I really wanted was to sleep THROUGH breakfast well into mid afternoon or perhaps dinner time, but schedules unfortunately did not allow. Nor will they likely ever allow until roughly 15 years from now, best case. The week before we just had an anniversary, and his gift had finally showed up, so when we started our meal I said, "Hey babe, I have your anniversary present. I've been trying to decided when to give it to you, and now seems as good a time as any." He looked at me and said,
"Are you pregnant?"
[Pregnant?! WTF?!?]
Me: "Um.... no. No, I'm not.Why on EARTH did your mind go there?!"
Him: "Oh I dunno, it just did."
[Are you CRAZY?! I just shed enough baby blubber to get back into my fat pants! Pregnant AGAIN?! *snort*]
Me: "Oh, um, well...I'm not. Pregnant, I mean. Not."
Him: "OK, well, that's just what I thought you were going to say..."
Me: "Um, yeah, no. Not pregnant.
[long pause while curiousity overpowers good sense]
But, well. . . what was your reaction? Before I clarified that I was not in the family way, I mean?"
Him: "Elation - and some serious questions about finances and logistics. But mostly elation."
[Wait - He'd actually WANT another baby?!]
Me: "Seriously?! Wow. Um . . . huh."
Him: "What? It's surprising that I would be excited to make another one of these [gesturing to kidlet vigorously rubbing pancakes into her hair]with my beloved wife?"
Me: "Well, [looking at kidlet now vigorously rubbing bananas into her hair]they do have their downsides. . . plus, we'd not really TALKed about it. So I guess I was just . . . surprised, is all."
Him: "What, do you NOT want to have another one?"
[Damn. That is a good question. DO I want another baby?]
Me: "Oh! Well, No. Not NOT want to have another one. But I wouldn't mind a good night's sleep before we started again. If we WERE going to. Which we aren't, right now, at least. Are we?"
Him: "Well, probably not. I mean, not NOW. With school and finances the timing might not be ideal. "
[Um, have ya SEEN our bank statement recently?]
Me: "Um, no. Not ideal is the understatement of the century."
Him: "But I guess there never is a GOOD time, for something like this...."
[especially since I'm not getting any younger, and we can't wait too long if we really DID want another one cause it might not happen...]
Me: "True, I suppose . . . but still, RIGHT now may be VERY not good vs. kinda not good. Maybe."
Him: "So, yeah. Not now, I guess."
[The physical and emotional toll, the constant what if worries, the blood pressure nightmare, the chance of birth defects, the loss of sleep before AND after, and doing it all with a rambuncious toddler? I can't honestly say I'm ready to sign up for that today.]`
Me: "Yeah, I guess not. Not NOW, like 'this second' now."
Him: "But not 'never', right?"
[looking over at toddler styling her hair into a crazy spike-y mohawky mess and *squee*ing with the pure joy of it all.]
Me: "No.Definitely not 'never'.
[Baby giggles get me every time.]
So, um, anyway. . .
I got you tickets to Cirque du Soleil."
Happy Belated Mother's Day!
"Are you pregnant?"
[Pregnant?! WTF?!?]
Me: "Um.... no. No, I'm not.
Him: "Oh I dunno, it just did."
[Are you CRAZY?! I just shed enough baby blubber to get back into my fat pants! Pregnant AGAIN?! *snort*]
Me: "Oh, um, well...I'm not. Pregnant, I mean. Not."
Him: "OK, well, that's just what I thought you were going to say..."
Me: "Um, yeah, no. Not pregnant.
But, well. . . what was your reaction? Before I clarified that I was not in the family way, I mean?"
Him: "Elation - and some serious questions about finances and logistics. But mostly elation."
Me: "Seriously?! Wow. Um . . . huh."
Him: "What? It's surprising that I would be excited to make another one of these [gesturing to kidlet vigorously rubbing pancakes into her hair]
Me: "Well, [looking at kidlet now vigorously rubbing bananas into her hair]
Him: "What, do you NOT want to have another one?"
Me: "Oh! Well, No. Not NOT want to have another one. But I wouldn't mind a good night's sleep before we started again. If we WERE going to. Which we aren't, right now, at least. Are we?"
Him: "Well, probably not. I mean, not NOW. With school and finances the timing might not be ideal. "
Me: "Um, no. Not ideal is the understatement of the century."
Him: "But I guess there never is a GOOD time, for something like this...."
Me: "True, I suppose . . . but still, RIGHT now may be VERY not good vs. kinda not good. Maybe."
Him: "So, yeah. Not now, I guess."
Me: "Yeah, I guess not. Not NOW, like 'this second' now."
Him: "But not 'never', right?"
Me: "No.
[Baby giggles get me every time.]
So, um, anyway. . .
I got you tickets to Cirque du Soleil."
Happy Belated Mother's Day!
Wednesday, April 29, 2009
Dessert Sushi!
<-- Dessert Sushi NOM NOM NOM!!!! These were an insanely huge hit at a work event, and when I say insane I mean batsh*t feeding frenzy INSANE. People LOVED these! Plus, much fun to make. I may just quit and start my own sushi making company. I shouldn't reveal all my trade secrets, but since the new business hasn't exactly taken off (i.e. no one has offered me money in exchange for making these - odd.), but while I wait (and wait and wait ;-)) I figured I could at least contribute goodness to the blogosphere. Behold - step by step process to making dessert sushi! HOW TO MAKE DESSERT SUSHI
Step 1: Go buy a lot of sweet stuff My ingredients list included: Rice Crispie Cereal, Marshmallows, Gummy worms, Fruit leather, Dried fruit (spears and slices mostly), and butter - of course.
Cause nothing goes better with sugar than butter.
Step 2: Sushi Rolls - lay out your rolls BEFORE making the rice crispie treats on a piece of parchment paper or a sushi rolling mat, if you are SUPERHARDCORE. I am not. Thus the parchment paper. The RCTreats are quick and easy in the microwave (just follow the instructions on the package), but accent on the quick. These harden up fast and once they do harden, we're talking concrete, so you have to move FAST. Prep first THEN mix, cause unrolling that freakin' fruit leather without tearing it is a real patience tester, you don't need the Jeopardy theme playing in your head on top of it.Step 3:
Spread the RCTreats on your fruit leather, then lay the centers in - I used one or two flavors of gummy worms and dried papaya spears. Then roll it up like a regular sushi roll. Don't be afraid to squish the ever livin' crap out of it. Those little crispies are hardier than you'd think.
Step 4:Slice!
Keep your knife sharp and clean, 'cause these buggers are sticky and the knife will catch if it gets dirty. I had a harder time than I want to admit cutting these flat and the same size (note jaunty angle of the cut). When they are stacked side by side you can really tell. Squishing into more acceptable tolerances is possible, but you can only get an eighth of an inch-ish best case, so try to measure each cut off of the previous one to keep them at least in the same ball park .
Step 5:
Nigiri - mix the CRTreats and wad them into mounds. Smoosh the bottoms on parchment paper so they'll sit flat. By batch 3, I was fast enough to use the RCTreats leftover from the sushi rolls to make Nigiri bases, but first go around I'd recommend saving yourself the stress and doing a totally separate batch.
Step 6:Measure your strips of fruit leather to wrap twice around each piece. I was using Fruit by the Foot, color by the foot, and it was wicked thin so I doubled up. Other brands might treat you more kindly, so the double-up is optional - your call.
Step 7:Drape your slice of dried Mango on top of the nigiri RCTreat base then wrap with your 'seaweed' band - and by 'drape' I mean, forcibly make conform to the top of the rice ball. The RCTreats are sticky enough to keep the 'fish' on top especially with the fruit leather strapped around the whole shebang. I did use left over fruit by the foot as an adhesive for my alternative fruit strap made of organic green apple fruit leather (Whole Paycheck, of course).
Pretty but not as effective as the probably chemical laden and I'm sure wholely un-organic Fruit by the Foot.
Step 7:Admire the glory of your sushi!
So I went totally out of control and got some sushi to go containers. I packaged them in groups with a small pile of shaved dried pineapple and a green gummy candy as wasabi. (I'm thinking next time will be colored marshmallow creme, or icing - depending on which looks better).
So the final result?
Drum roll please....
SWEET! ;-)
Monday, April 27, 2009
First steps!
As a first time mommy, I pretty much got nuttin'. I have zippy info on what to expect from, well, anything in this process. So I find myself regularly surprised (read: baffled) by some developmental milestone/behavioral change/general new weirdness on the part of my child. The latest WTF appeared this weekend after she took what could arguably be called her first steps.
She's been doing this 'step LUNGE' thing for a week or two now, but this was a step up (heh heh). This was 3 full steps IN A ROW! I know in my heart of hearts that these were her TRUE first steps, mainly because I turned the video camera off approximately .03 seconds before she took said steps. Proof in my mind, cause that's just my gift of timing.
So cheers and huzzahs, mostly, with a slight underlying tinge of 'oh crap, we are REALLY going to have to step up the baby proofing and how in the holy hell am I going to be able to get anything productive done ever again while she is conscious?!'. But mostly cheers and huzzahs. She then proceeded the spend the next 45 minutes practicing - teetering precariously between The Hubble and I. As soon as she got to one of us she U-Turned and started back to the other - back and forth back and forth. Squee-ing the whole time in delight.
I knew that she was due for her first step, and that it's a neato milestone and how wonderful it's supposed to be. And it was exciting and sweet and neat and all those things people said it would be. What no one warned me about was the immediate ripple effect this would have on her behavior, and clearly we are only scratching the surface of this one.
Since The Step, Bean has developed a SEVERE case of the Lemmegos. She is infected by wiggleworms and nothing seems to help. Save, of course, putting her down and watching her pull up on everything she can grab and heartstoppingly pitch face-first from object to object. I know that this is the first step (no pun intended) in a long path leading away from me, and I cheer it (theoretically) but its still a mini little heartbreak, this sign of successful parenting, this independence. (Her still having all her limbs is my own personal parenting high water mark - and at the rate she's going if that is still the case at the end of the learning to walk process, then I am a mommy rockstar!).
This first step is a first step for both of us. For her, it's just the beginning of her standing on her own, taking bold adventurous steps into the world she will conquer. For me, it's my first step toward learning to let her go, in spite of the pain I know is coming, the bonked heads, the skinned knees. She's a brave thing to take those tottering steps, those leaps of faith from thing to thing. But I need to be even braver to let her.
You GO baby girl! Mommy loves you...
She's been doing this 'step LUNGE' thing for a week or two now, but this was a step up (heh heh). This was 3 full steps IN A ROW! I know in my heart of hearts that these were her TRUE first steps, mainly because I turned the video camera off approximately .03 seconds before she took said steps. Proof in my mind, cause that's just my gift of timing.
So cheers and huzzahs, mostly, with a slight underlying tinge of 'oh crap, we are REALLY going to have to step up the baby proofing and how in the holy hell am I going to be able to get anything productive done ever again while she is conscious?!'. But mostly cheers and huzzahs. She then proceeded the spend the next 45 minutes practicing - teetering precariously between The Hubble and I. As soon as she got to one of us she U-Turned and started back to the other - back and forth back and forth. Squee-ing the whole time in delight.
I knew that she was due for her first step, and that it's a neato milestone and how wonderful it's supposed to be. And it was exciting and sweet and neat and all those things people said it would be. What no one warned me about was the immediate ripple effect this would have on her behavior, and clearly we are only scratching the surface of this one.
Since The Step, Bean has developed a SEVERE case of the Lemmegos. She is infected by wiggleworms and nothing seems to help. Save, of course, putting her down and watching her pull up on everything she can grab and heartstoppingly pitch face-first from object to object. I know that this is the first step (no pun intended) in a long path leading away from me, and I cheer it (theoretically) but its still a mini little heartbreak, this sign of successful parenting, this independence. (Her still having all her limbs is my own personal parenting high water mark - and at the rate she's going if that is still the case at the end of the learning to walk process, then I am a mommy rockstar!).
This first step is a first step for both of us. For her, it's just the beginning of her standing on her own, taking bold adventurous steps into the world she will conquer. For me, it's my first step toward learning to let her go, in spite of the pain I know is coming, the bonked heads, the skinned knees. She's a brave thing to take those tottering steps, those leaps of faith from thing to thing. But I need to be even braver to let her.
You GO baby girl! Mommy loves you...
Wednesday, April 8, 2009
Why Maddie Matters
Mommies need support, even those with healthy children. Parenting is hard (for either gender) and the classic 'it takes a village to raise a child' comment is true. Parents need people to turn to when their child is crying and they have no idea why, when they are tired (oh so very tired), when they are proud (first steps!), pretty much at any stage in the process. We live in such transient times that many of use don't even know our neighbors, much less would be comfortable leaving our children in their care while we ran out for milk. That tight network of help and support that our grandparents had has slowly disintegrated generation over generation. Those of us raising children hours from family, new to areas, far from friends, experience the natural isolation of the early months of infanthood to an excruciating degree. Where can you turn when there is no one near? While we often bemoan the over connectedness of our hyper-wired lives, this very connection can be a parent's salvation.
I have been honored to become a part of the Mommy blogging nation. I'm merely a bit player in a community populated with rock stars - women who share their soul in smart, moving, & interesting ways. Blogher is filled with these women, and men, sharing stories of parenthood and the challenges and rewards it can bring. This blogging community I joined then expanded into twitter giving me the chance to interact real time with other women and men, parents and not, sharing stories of their lives with and without children. Twitter became my virtual community center, only without the bingo, a place to get information, to offer and get support, laugh, learn, and just hang out with like minded, and differently inclined folk - all with something compelling to offer. Intuitively I sensed this was a community, but I didn't know until today what power there was in this connection.
Today has been an amazing day - heartrending and overwhelming, and it's because of a little girl named Maddie. I don't know her. I never had to honor to meet her, and now I never will. She passed away 4 days ago before even reaching the age of two. I can't do Maddie justice but her family can - read their blog: thespohrsaremultiplying.com . It is full of pictures of a beautiful joyful child that reminds me of my own preemie baby enough to make my breath catch at the thought of how close we were to the same situation.
I can't comprehend what this loss is for Heather & Mike, literally, I can NOT comprehend it. But this family is right now deep in this tragic and painful place. Whenever I try to put myself in their shoes, my mind, my HEART, refuses to go there. I can't. I just can't imagine it. It too dark and horrid and terrifying. If ever a parent, a family has needed the support of a community, it is the Spohrs and it is now.
And they got it. This beautiful little girl has triggered an outpouring of love and passion and support from this virtual collective that has shown me what a 'community' really is. #maddie has become a top trend on Twitter, meaning that everyone is talking about this tragedy. Her story has flown from blog to blog, and people from all over the globe have used the internet to pour love and hope and support and even donations towards the Spohrs and Maddie's cause, the March of Dimes.
When people roll their eyes at Twitter or Facebook or blogging, I will point to this story, to this experience. These websites, these technologies aren't the point. They are only tools, and they can be used to superpoke people, or spam market with twitterbots, OR, as today, they can be used for overwhelming good. In spite of the devastating loss of a child far to young to go home, the response of this community makes me believe that meaning can be found even in the unthinkably wrong, and that evil doesn't triumph, not when we all band together to fight it, even if it is virtually.
Maddie, you have touched the world & spread love and joy even in your passing - your parents should be proud of their beautiful baby girl.
I have been honored to become a part of the Mommy blogging nation. I'm merely a bit player in a community populated with rock stars - women who share their soul in smart, moving, & interesting ways. Blogher is filled with these women, and men, sharing stories of parenthood and the challenges and rewards it can bring. This blogging community I joined then expanded into twitter giving me the chance to interact real time with other women and men, parents and not, sharing stories of their lives with and without children. Twitter became my virtual community center, only without the bingo, a place to get information, to offer and get support, laugh, learn, and just hang out with like minded, and differently inclined folk - all with something compelling to offer. Intuitively I sensed this was a community, but I didn't know until today what power there was in this connection.
Today has been an amazing day - heartrending and overwhelming, and it's because of a little girl named Maddie. I don't know her. I never had to honor to meet her, and now I never will. She passed away 4 days ago before even reaching the age of two. I can't do Maddie justice but her family can - read their blog: thespohrsaremultiplying.com . It is full of pictures of a beautiful joyful child that reminds me of my own preemie baby enough to make my breath catch at the thought of how close we were to the same situation.
I can't comprehend what this loss is for Heather & Mike, literally, I can NOT comprehend it. But this family is right now deep in this tragic and painful place. Whenever I try to put myself in their shoes, my mind, my HEART, refuses to go there. I can't. I just can't imagine it. It too dark and horrid and terrifying. If ever a parent, a family has needed the support of a community, it is the Spohrs and it is now.
And they got it. This beautiful little girl has triggered an outpouring of love and passion and support from this virtual collective that has shown me what a 'community' really is. #maddie has become a top trend on Twitter, meaning that everyone is talking about this tragedy. Her story has flown from blog to blog, and people from all over the globe have used the internet to pour love and hope and support and even donations towards the Spohrs and Maddie's cause, the March of Dimes.
When people roll their eyes at Twitter or Facebook or blogging, I will point to this story, to this experience. These websites, these technologies aren't the point. They are only tools, and they can be used to superpoke people, or spam market with twitterbots, OR, as today, they can be used for overwhelming good. In spite of the devastating loss of a child far to young to go home, the response of this community makes me believe that meaning can be found even in the unthinkably wrong, and that evil doesn't triumph, not when we all band together to fight it, even if it is virtually.
Maddie, you have touched the world & spread love and joy even in your passing - your parents should be proud of their beautiful baby girl.
Monday, April 6, 2009
My that was SO refreshing!
I went away this weekend to visit my mom. Generally, 'taking the baby and going to mother's house' is viewed as a little girls getaway, and/or indication of serious marital trouble. In this case it was neither (although, upon arriving home from this somewhat 'challenging' trip and seeing the dishes STILL undone, there was a small bit of, et-hem, relational discord, shall we say - Love you baby! really ;-)).
This trip was not the relaxarama one would think for a few reasons - 1) mom lives 4 hours away. Driving alone for 4 hours with a one year old is not something that ever shows up on a list of relaxing spa services. Cause it's not relaxing. At all. Not even remotely. Even when the baby is quiet, you still can't relax cause it's not a baby - it's a ticking shrieking timebomb and it could GO OFF AT ANY TIME!
Reason number 2 this was not a chillathon - the baby is teething. Yes, a giant chunk of enamel is boring it's way through her gum. I can't blame her for being a crankhead, when you look at it that way, but it doesn't make her any more pleasant to be around. So of course that means she wants to be around you ALL THE TIME. Add that to her being at the clingy age in general and you get a small ill natured barnacle that freaks the everloving F OUT whenever it is pried from your hip and you move outside of the pre-approved one yard radius. Not out of eyesight mind you, just more that 3 feet away, and the infant alarm at 140 dbs starts wailing.
Number 3? Mom's house isn't baby proofed. There is a baby gate to keep her from plummeting down the stairs, but other then that, free for all. This means constant adult supervision is required. And there really aren't many baby restraining devices at my parents house that we can use anymore. The bouncy seat is nothing but chains and handcuffs to a mini Houdini and buys me nothing but a 30 second head start - ergo useless. Considering she wrapped herself around any limb she could get a-hold to, this did have the positive side effect of reducing the chance she'd grab the gallon of bleach and start licking it, or whatever. She was too busy adhering to me to bother... mostly. I won't go into the whole wine bottle battle of wills, but suffice it to say she can't reach the counter top, and I can, so nenner nenner.
And the last reason that it wasn't a cold chillin' weekend, is my mom has MS. Which is why I went down in the first place. My dad had an out of town trip planned, and it seemed like a long time for her to be alone. Mom's at the stage now where her strength is waning, so if she falls, it can be hours before she gets herself back up. Her neighbors who usually look in were busy with cancer surgery (for God sake) so they weren't available. My dad is on duty 24/7 though, and he NEEDED this trip, so enter us.
Mom can't move far or fast, so her vs. a motivated crawling baby is no match - I was on my own with the Critter. And Mom isn't really able to whip together dinner any more - she is on the pointy end of the 'cognitive effects' bell curve for MS, and has trouble staying on track. Things burn, ingredients get left out, and she gets exhausted 1/2 way through. So the weekend was filled with my week-a-day chores of baby care (with a +2 difficulty for teething and location) and cooking and cleaning, so mom could eat something that didn't come from take out or a microwave and so dad wouldn't come home to more work with a leftover mess. Sandwiched between 2 4-hour drives. Um, whee. This was, in fact, the definition of an anti-relaxation weekend on logistics alone, forget about the emotional component of having to parent your own parent while parenting your one child. No. I did not relax.
But for all the stress and baby shrieks and dishes, it was worth every second. Because it was also filled with the baby crawling over to cling to grandmas leg by day 3, and three generations of giggles when the little one decided that peek-a-boo behind a toy cow is THE BEST THING EVAR! This weekend, for all it's challenges, was a great gift for all of us, and I know it and am grateful for it.
That being said, I'd really rather a spa trip next time, so, you know, if you are making plans...
This trip was not the relaxarama one would think for a few reasons - 1) mom lives 4 hours away. Driving alone for 4 hours with a one year old is not something that ever shows up on a list of relaxing spa services. Cause it's not relaxing. At all. Not even remotely. Even when the baby is quiet, you still can't relax cause it's not a baby - it's a ticking shrieking timebomb and it could GO OFF AT ANY TIME!
Reason number 2 this was not a chillathon - the baby is teething. Yes, a giant chunk of enamel is boring it's way through her gum. I can't blame her for being a crankhead, when you look at it that way, but it doesn't make her any more pleasant to be around. So of course that means she wants to be around you ALL THE TIME. Add that to her being at the clingy age in general and you get a small ill natured barnacle that freaks the everloving F OUT whenever it is pried from your hip and you move outside of the pre-approved one yard radius. Not out of eyesight mind you, just more that 3 feet away, and the infant alarm at 140 dbs starts wailing.
Number 3? Mom's house isn't baby proofed. There is a baby gate to keep her from plummeting down the stairs, but other then that, free for all. This means constant adult supervision is required. And there really aren't many baby restraining devices at my parents house that we can use anymore. The bouncy seat is nothing but chains and handcuffs to a mini Houdini and buys me nothing but a 30 second head start - ergo useless. Considering she wrapped herself around any limb she could get a-hold to, this did have the positive side effect of reducing the chance she'd grab the gallon of bleach and start licking it, or whatever. She was too busy adhering to me to bother... mostly. I won't go into the whole wine bottle battle of wills, but suffice it to say she can't reach the counter top, and I can, so nenner nenner.
And the last reason that it wasn't a cold chillin' weekend, is my mom has MS. Which is why I went down in the first place. My dad had an out of town trip planned, and it seemed like a long time for her to be alone. Mom's at the stage now where her strength is waning, so if she falls, it can be hours before she gets herself back up. Her neighbors who usually look in were busy with cancer surgery (for God sake) so they weren't available. My dad is on duty 24/7 though, and he NEEDED this trip, so enter us.
Mom can't move far or fast, so her vs. a motivated crawling baby is no match - I was on my own with the Critter. And Mom isn't really able to whip together dinner any more - she is on the pointy end of the 'cognitive effects' bell curve for MS, and has trouble staying on track. Things burn, ingredients get left out, and she gets exhausted 1/2 way through. So the weekend was filled with my week-a-day chores of baby care (with a +2 difficulty for teething and location) and cooking and cleaning, so mom could eat something that didn't come from take out or a microwave and so dad wouldn't come home to more work with a leftover mess. Sandwiched between 2 4-hour drives. Um, whee. This was, in fact, the definition of an anti-relaxation weekend on logistics alone, forget about the emotional component of having to parent your own parent while parenting your one child. No. I did not relax.
But for all the stress and baby shrieks and dishes, it was worth every second. Because it was also filled with the baby crawling over to cling to grandmas leg by day 3, and three generations of giggles when the little one decided that peek-a-boo behind a toy cow is THE BEST THING EVAR! This weekend, for all it's challenges, was a great gift for all of us, and I know it and am grateful for it.
That being said, I'd really rather a spa trip next time, so, you know, if you are making plans...
Wednesday, March 25, 2009
Wow...
I've been gone. For a while. Not REALLY gone, just not blogging.
The reasons?
Honestly, I don't know.
I think part of it was a change of life (no I'm not talking hotflashes, but God knows those are probably closer than I want to even consider). I mean, change in life FOCUS. The first 6-8 months of mommyhood are all consuming, and that meant I had plenty to say about being a mommy since, basically, it's all I did. Sure I 'worked' but it really took a bit to get back up to speed and my heart was elsewhere.
Round about Sept or Nov of last year, baby-related things got a little more routine, a little less interesting. Everything wasn't new anymore so it all seemed a little less blog worthy. And work started to take over a good chunk of my attention. I think this blog, in my mind, was all mommy all the time, so really, details of work? Who cares? Go start another blog if you want to complain about PowerPoint, this is not the forum. At least, that was my thinking.
And that is stupid. Cause it's MY BLOG damnit! I can write about whatever I want! Now granted, y'all may have zippy interest in READING it, but that's probably the case regardless of subject, so... Might as well entertain myself at least.
I AM still a mommy, in case anyone wondered - I know sometimes I do. I've had a large project at work over the past 2 months (thus the obsessional focus on the evils of PPT) and its required a lot of my time and attention. Since The Hubble is going to school full time, his schedule is much more flexible, and he's taken over a lot of day to day kidlet duties. He's been on night duty for 2 months running now (WHEN will she finally sleep through the night for God sake?!?), and also gets her dressed and ready most mornings. I just drop her off at daycare.
The only time I really get with her during the week these days is feeding her dinner and putting her to bed. I dread days when I have to work til 6 and she refuses her afternoon nap cause it means she will fall asleep on the way home and I won't get any time with her at all. So I get to be a mommy, at least a little. Sometimes. And it's hard when I can't.
Now, do I want night duty back...er... not rly. Or do I want to stay home full time? REALLY not rly. I like my job & I love the people I work with & I adore the industry I'm in. I have several very good friends who are full time SAHMs and I think they are the strongest people I know. I don't think I could do it. Not and be any good at it. It's the toughest job going.
That being said I wouldn't mind a little more balance, and that's been my ongoing struggle, and that of every parent really. How can I be a good wife, a good employee, a good mommy and still have time left to be good to myself? I am a loooong way from having that one figured out. And guess what goes first? Me. And Me-time.
And I am not alone in this. Exhibit A: http://www.sweetney.com/sweetney/2009/03/selfish.html
(This is why I love twitter - you find people like this, who say things like that.) It's NOT easy to strike the balance. I still swing wildly back and forth like some crack addled monkey. I do believe, as in all things, a balance will finally be struck. It will probably be well after the hot flashes have come and gone, but one day... one day....
The reasons?
Honestly, I don't know.
I think part of it was a change of life (no I'm not talking hotflashes, but God knows those are probably closer than I want to even consider). I mean, change in life FOCUS. The first 6-8 months of mommyhood are all consuming, and that meant I had plenty to say about being a mommy since, basically, it's all I did. Sure I 'worked' but it really took a bit to get back up to speed and my heart was elsewhere.
Round about Sept or Nov of last year, baby-related things got a little more routine, a little less interesting. Everything wasn't new anymore so it all seemed a little less blog worthy. And work started to take over a good chunk of my attention. I think this blog, in my mind, was all mommy all the time, so really, details of work? Who cares? Go start another blog if you want to complain about PowerPoint, this is not the forum. At least, that was my thinking.
And that is stupid. Cause it's MY BLOG damnit! I can write about whatever I want! Now granted, y'all may have zippy interest in READING it, but that's probably the case regardless of subject, so...
I AM still a mommy, in case anyone wondered - I know sometimes I do. I've had a large project at work over the past 2 months (thus the obsessional focus on the evils of PPT) and its required a lot of my time and attention. Since The Hubble is going to school full time, his schedule is much more flexible, and he's taken over a lot of day to day kidlet duties. He's been on night duty for 2 months running now (WHEN will she finally sleep through the night for God sake?!?), and also gets her dressed and ready most mornings. I just drop her off at daycare.
The only time I really get with her during the week these days is feeding her dinner and putting her to bed. I dread days when I have to work til 6 and she refuses her afternoon nap cause it means she will fall asleep on the way home and I won't get any time with her at all. So I get to be a mommy, at least a little. Sometimes. And it's hard when I can't.
Now, do I want night duty back...er... not rly. Or do I want to stay home full time? REALLY not rly. I like my job & I love the people I work with & I adore the industry I'm in. I have several very good friends who are full time SAHMs and I think they are the strongest people I know. I don't think I could do it. Not and be any good at it. It's the toughest job going.
That being said I wouldn't mind a little more balance, and that's been my ongoing struggle, and that of every parent really. How can I be a good wife, a good employee, a good mommy and still have time left to be good to myself? I am a loooong way from having that one figured out. And guess what goes first? Me. And Me-time.
And I am not alone in this. Exhibit A: http://www.sweetney.com/sweetney/2009/03/selfish.html
(This is why I love twitter - you find people like this, who say things like that.) It's NOT easy to strike the balance. I still swing wildly back and forth like some crack addled monkey. I do believe, as in all things, a balance will finally be struck. It will probably be well after the hot flashes have come and gone, but one day... one day....
Thursday, September 11, 2008
I'm a mommy...
I've been a bit lax on updates due to T-total chaos in my general life - short version, sick infant, hubby quit job to go back to school full time, & my boss quit, so I've got the whole 'look smart and competent for the new boss who, incidentally is a morning person (ew!)' thing going on. So yeah....
Anyway, I've been mulling this post for a bit and putting it off since I don't think I can do the subject justice. I finally decided that an inadequate post is better than no post, so here goes.
I am a mommy. Theoretically, we knew this, what with the whole giving birth and getting pooped or thrown up on daily ever since deal. I also am a daughter. Again, not really a shock, except to those who think I sprung full grown from the surf all greek goddess style (it is to laugh). Being a daughter means I have a mommy, and now I AM a mommy, and that's the point where my brain melts.
Here's the why - my mother, whom I love and really is a pretty gosh darn rockin mom over all, can really get on my nerves. Why? Cause she's my mom. Period. Moms can just be annoying. Merely by existing. It's part of the job description. They tell you to take your shoes off in the house, and to make sure you eat lots of fiber, and look enquiringly at your new hairdo while very loudly saying absolutely nothing about it. Moms are just, YOU know, MOMS.
Now back to point number one - I AM A MOM. Now granted, at this stage, The Infant mostly chews on her feet so worst case she'd track spit around, if she could even walk which she can't. She has a diet of exclusively boob juice and formula (does anyone else think of cheesy 50's movie mad scientists every time they hear the word 'formula'? right. only me. check.) so no fiber issues. And she really doesn't have much by way of hair yet, so no conflict there. Yet. I know, no matter how much I swear swear swear it won't happen, I will be as annoying to my daughter as my mom is to me. Cause it's nature's way. Cause I am a MOM. I could sooner stop the rain as I could stop the teenage eye-rolling that is way closer than any of us imagine.
While the parent lore is true, you do gain a much higher appreciation for your parents once you become one yourself, you don't stop being a daughter or a son. When I'm with them both - it's all kinda confusing - I'm still rolling my eyes at my mom, while lovingly caring for a daughter of my own, who will, in due time roll her eyes at me.
The part that really floored me is when I realized that I am ALL parts of mommy, not just the annoying part. I love my mother, and she was the person I turned to when the kids were mean to me at school, or I skinned my knee, or when I had really done something big and wonderful. And to this day, when I am sick, there is always a part of me that just wants my mommy. I have an amazing dad, and I love him to death, but mommies are special. And to this very day, she cheers my victories and helps heal my booboos and sends me fiber bars in the mail, and above all loves me with everything she has.
Cradling my beautiful perfect precious baby girl in my arms last night, rocking her to sleep, it all came together. My mommy did this with me - she held me and rocked me and made it all ok. Now I have been blessed by God with a daughter of my own. And the true blessing I have with the chance to be for her all those things that my mom is to me. The weight of the gift was a little overwhelming, but I am so very grateful for the opportunity. I will do everything I can to earn the right to say honestly 'I am a mommy'.
Anyway, I've been mulling this post for a bit and putting it off since I don't think I can do the subject justice. I finally decided that an inadequate post is better than no post, so here goes.
I am a mommy. Theoretically, we knew this, what with the whole giving birth and getting pooped or thrown up on daily ever since deal. I also am a daughter. Again, not really a shock, except to those who think I sprung full grown from the surf all greek goddess style (it is to laugh). Being a daughter means I have a mommy, and now I AM a mommy, and that's the point where my brain melts.
Here's the why - my mother, whom I love and really is a pretty gosh darn rockin mom over all, can really get on my nerves. Why? Cause she's my mom. Period. Moms can just be annoying. Merely by existing. It's part of the job description. They tell you to take your shoes off in the house, and to make sure you eat lots of fiber, and look enquiringly at your new hairdo while very loudly saying absolutely nothing about it. Moms are just, YOU know, MOMS
Now back to point number one - I AM A MOM. Now granted, at this stage, The Infant mostly chews on her feet so worst case she'd track spit around, if she could even walk which she can't. She has a diet of exclusively boob juice and formula (does anyone else think of cheesy 50's movie mad scientists every time they hear the word 'formula'? right. only me. check.) so no fiber issues. And she really doesn't have much by way of hair yet, so no conflict there. Yet. I know, no matter how much I swear swear swear it won't happen, I will be as annoying to my daughter as my mom is to me. Cause it's nature's way. Cause I am a MOM
While the parent lore is true, you do gain a much higher appreciation for your parents once you become one yourself, you don't stop being a daughter or a son. When I'm with them both - it's all kinda confusing - I'm still rolling my eyes at my mom, while lovingly caring for a daughter of my own, who will, in due time roll her eyes at me.
The part that really floored me is when I realized that I am ALL parts of mommy, not just the annoying part. I love my mother, and she was the person I turned to when the kids were mean to me at school, or I skinned my knee, or when I had really done something big and wonderful. And to this day, when I am sick, there is always a part of me that just wants my mommy. I have an amazing dad, and I love him to death, but mommies are special. And to this very day, she cheers my victories and helps heal my booboos and sends me fiber bars in the mail, and above all loves me with everything she has.
Cradling my beautiful perfect precious baby girl in my arms last night, rocking her to sleep, it all came together. My mommy did this with me - she held me and rocked me and made it all ok. Now I have been blessed by God with a daughter of my own. And the true blessing I have with the chance to be for her all those things that my mom is to me. The weight of the gift was a little overwhelming, but I am so very grateful for the opportunity. I will do everything I can to earn the right to say honestly 'I am a mommy'.
Monday, September 8, 2008
Friday, August 29, 2008
I watch too much Project Runway
But is there really any such thing as too MUCH Project Runway?
Every year this time I watch Project Runway, get all hyped up, whip out my sewing machine, and sew SOMEthing. Now mind you, I can't really sew. I took Home Ec in 7th grade and made a 6 panel wrap skirt, which was the height of my sewing career. I've made skirts and costumes and various other things since, but really, I don't have any skillz. This year though, I have a new victim, I mean, subject. The Infant! And even better Infant clothes 1) are small so they take WAY less time to make and 2) since she's going to grow out of any given outfit in less than a fortnight anyway, the crappy construction doesn't matter. Win win!
So behold! The spawn of an old t-shirt, too much Heidi, and some bling...
Friday, August 15, 2008
Sick.... and tired!
Where've I been? Um, yeah - I've been sick. Now I've been sick before, and I've used that phrase - 'I'm sick' and I meant it when I said it, but this time, I was REALLY sick. Like a miserable f level of sick. Granted, I wasn't Really REALLY sick - that's when you custom design t-shirts and host a fund raiser - nothing like that - just a pile-on of generic nasty bugs having a little party in my body. A party that wouldn't stop. and 14 days later STILL HASN'T, God help me.
The source of this plague? My family, natch. I should say 'plagues' plural. See, that's one of the things that's made this particular party such a t-total blast. Back to back diseases - it was a little virus relay race. Shoot me now.
The first leg of this illness started with the Hubble- whom I nursed back to health JUST in time to get the very same disease, only worse. Perhaps we would have had a closer relationship with the Lysol container during the initial Hubble illness had we realized that he was, in fact, ill. Don't mistake, he was clearly having symptoms. Its just that the symptoms he had mislead us into thinking that what he actually had was food poisoning. FOOD POISONING! Can you guess what symptoms might have lead us to that conclusion?! Hmm?! Gads. But no, NOT food poisoning. Nasty ass stomach bug (no pun intended). Which I promptly caught and lifted to a whole new level of suck. I had managed to delude myself into thinking I had managed to avoid the whole thing until sat the 2nd.
I was feeling a little 'off' on Friday, but I'm always wicked tired on Fridays after a whole week of having to get up and act like a responsible human after nights of no sleep, so I didn't think anything much of it. Then Sat came around. I was up at a semi-reasonable hour, all bright-eyed and bushy-tailed. I was all a-twitter cause I was going to see one of my bestest and oldest friends brand spanking new condo. This was her very first home purchase and consequently kinda a big whoop. Plus, I was deeply desirous of seeing the horrorshow wall paper that came with said condo. When I said it was new, know that I meant new to HER - it was, as a home, trapped somewhere in the mid-70's, decor and appliances inclusive. So I was excited about the flashback in residence form, on top of the whole 'yay for you!' aspect.
My bestest BiblioDiva, and her family were going to spend the day going mano e mano with the retrofunk spread all over the new joint, so I was going to bring them sustenance as a sympathy offering. Having been through the same procedure with my first home, it seemed karmically appropriate. But the virea had their own karma apparently, and it was totally screwing with mine. I gathered myself and bundled the infant up, ready to head out, and right when I hit the door I felt a little....urghy. Urgently urghy in fact.... Oh dear.... Um, ok, quick restroom trip and we're all good...ish... Take two on exiting the house got us successfully as far as the grocery store.
I debated. Can I do this? Can I make it through the grocery store, and through the 40 minute drive to the new pad without yorking on myself? Or worse, 'othering' on myself. I mommed up. I can DO this.
I spent several important healing moments in the grocery store restroom, and blitzkrieged the grocery aisles. Speed check up and out. I'm happy to report that I was able to make it down to her new place, deliver the food, NOT deliver any viral contaminates with said food, and get back home without embarrassing myself or others. It was a minor miracle. It was also the last time I left the house for the next 4 days.
Wednesday rolls around, and I'm feeling better. Not GREAT, mind you, but better. I'm also feeling like I perhaps ought to get back into the office. This feeling was perhaps partially triggered by my bosses response when I called in sick on Monday. 'Oh. um. ok. You have everything you need to work from home though right?'. Dude, seriously, what part of 'stomach flu' did you not get? I need to be on the crapper AND using wifi simultaneously? WTF?! So with this kinda environment you can imagine why I'm feeling like perhaps I need to hustle back in.
I toddle into the office on wed, zero appetite still, but able to eat bread and rice and other tasteless bland carbs. Luckily I still have all my morning sickness foods lying around, came in handy that. Plus side? lost 7 pounds! Healthy? um no. but still. Anyway, on my way in, I start feeling a little congested. Maybe allergies. Right? Prolly just allergies. No biggie. Wrong. Biggie.
By the end of the day, I was sneezing like a dwarf and had a regular snoterfall coming out of my nose. It totally sucked to be me. Right about 5:30 I got The Call. I was not the only one with a fever and runny nose. The Infant was snotting right along with me. Sigh...
I bundle us both up and head home, chock-a-block full of self-pity. The Hubble, and his unnaturally effective immune system was able to avoid round two of the disease-a-thon, which is a HUGE mercy - cause now it was his turn to take over all household care duties. And he did great. Credit where it is due. He took the lil stinker into her doc appointment the next day, where she was pronounced 'sick with a cold' - shocker. Apparently is went well until the full body exam at which point she became deeply unamused at the whole process. I was curled up at home during all this, whimpering, buried in a perpetually growing heap of used tissues and hating life, but still well pleased that I wasn't the one dealing with a doctor inspired Infant meltdown. During the worst of this, he kept both of us in sandwiches and formula (the first for me, the second for the Infant), and kept me entertained with movies and her entertained with ridiculous faces. She dealt with the whole thing much better than I, overall, and healed up faster as well.
We are now at the end of week 2 of the diseasing, and The Infant is pretty much back to normal, with a slightly higher amount of snot production than usual, but otherwise, no worse for wear. While I am back at work, I am still a disgusting human being. I'm making all those nasty old homeless smoker sounds in the back of my throat and snorking huge lugies every few minutes. My voice is on it's way back - I'm now more of a Kathleen Turner with allergies sort of sound vs the Hulk Hogan with a sinus infection thing I had going before. And before that it was gone altogether for 2 days. So clearly trending better. But still not 100%.
After 14 whole days of this mess. I'm hoping come next week I will be able to breathe without horking - forget dreams of Olympic Gold, I just want to be able to live snot free. Is that asking too much...?
The source of this plague? My family, natch. I should say 'plagues' plural. See, that's one of the things that's made this particular party such a t-total blast. Back to back diseases - it was a little virus relay race. Shoot me now.
The first leg of this illness started with the Hubble- whom I nursed back to health JUST in time to get the very same disease, only worse. Perhaps we would have had a closer relationship with the Lysol container during the initial Hubble illness had we realized that he was, in fact, ill. Don't mistake, he was clearly having symptoms. Its just that the symptoms he had mislead us into thinking that what he actually had was food poisoning. FOOD POISONING! Can you guess what symptoms might have lead us to that conclusion?! Hmm?! Gads. But no, NOT food poisoning. Nasty ass stomach bug (no pun intended). Which I promptly caught and lifted to a whole new level of suck. I had managed to delude myself into thinking I had managed to avoid the whole thing until sat the 2nd.
I was feeling a little 'off' on Friday, but I'm always wicked tired on Fridays after a whole week of having to get up and act like a responsible human after nights of no sleep, so I didn't think anything much of it. Then Sat came around. I was up at a semi-reasonable hour, all bright-eyed and bushy-tailed. I was all a-twitter cause I was going to see one of my bestest and oldest friends brand spanking new condo. This was her very first home purchase and consequently kinda a big whoop. Plus, I was deeply desirous of seeing the horrorshow wall paper that came with said condo. When I said it was new, know that I meant new to HER - it was, as a home, trapped somewhere in the mid-70's, decor and appliances inclusive. So I was excited about the flashback in residence form, on top of the whole 'yay for you!' aspect.
My bestest BiblioDiva, and her family were going to spend the day going mano e mano with the retrofunk spread all over the new joint, so I was going to bring them sustenance as a sympathy offering. Having been through the same procedure with my first home, it seemed karmically appropriate. But the virea had their own karma apparently, and it was totally screwing with mine. I gathered myself and bundled the infant up, ready to head out, and right when I hit the door I felt a little....urghy. Urgently urghy in fact.... Oh dear.... Um, ok, quick restroom trip and we're all good...ish... Take two on exiting the house got us successfully as far as the grocery store.
I debated. Can I do this? Can I make it through the grocery store, and through the 40 minute drive to the new pad without yorking on myself? Or worse, 'othering' on myself. I mommed up. I can DO this.
I spent several important healing moments in the grocery store restroom, and blitzkrieged the grocery aisles. Speed check up and out. I'm happy to report that I was able to make it down to her new place, deliver the food, NOT deliver any viral contaminates with said food, and get back home without embarrassing myself or others. It was a minor miracle. It was also the last time I left the house for the next 4 days.
Wednesday rolls around, and I'm feeling better. Not GREAT, mind you, but better. I'm also feeling like I perhaps ought to get back into the office. This feeling was perhaps partially triggered by my bosses response when I called in sick on Monday. 'Oh. um. ok. You have everything you need to work from home though right?'. Dude, seriously, what part of 'stomach flu' did you not get? I need to be on the crapper AND using wifi simultaneously? WTF?! So with this kinda environment you can imagine why I'm feeling like perhaps I need to hustle back in.
I toddle into the office on wed, zero appetite still, but able to eat bread and rice and other tasteless bland carbs. Luckily I still have all my morning sickness foods lying around, came in handy that. Plus side? lost 7 pounds! Healthy? um no. but still. Anyway, on my way in, I start feeling a little congested. Maybe allergies. Right? Prolly just allergies. No biggie. Wrong. Biggie.
By the end of the day, I was sneezing like a dwarf and had a regular snoterfall coming out of my nose. It totally sucked to be me. Right about 5:30 I got The Call. I was not the only one with a fever and runny nose. The Infant was snotting right along with me. Sigh...
I bundle us both up and head home, chock-a-block full of self-pity. The Hubble, and his unnaturally effective immune system was able to avoid round two of the disease-a-thon, which is a HUGE mercy - cause now it was his turn to take over all household care duties. And he did great. Credit where it is due. He took the lil stinker into her doc appointment the next day, where she was pronounced 'sick with a cold' - shocker. Apparently is went well until the full body exam at which point she became deeply unamused at the whole process. I was curled up at home during all this, whimpering, buried in a perpetually growing heap of used tissues and hating life, but still well pleased that I wasn't the one dealing with a doctor inspired Infant meltdown. During the worst of this, he kept both of us in sandwiches and formula (the first for me, the second for the Infant), and kept me entertained with movies and her entertained with ridiculous faces. She dealt with the whole thing much better than I, overall, and healed up faster as well.
We are now at the end of week 2 of the diseasing, and The Infant is pretty much back to normal, with a slightly higher amount of snot production than usual, but otherwise, no worse for wear. While I am back at work, I am still a disgusting human being. I'm making all those nasty old homeless smoker sounds in the back of my throat and snorking huge lugies every few minutes. My voice is on it's way back - I'm now more of a Kathleen Turner with allergies sort of sound vs the Hulk Hogan with a sinus infection thing I had going before. And before that it was gone altogether for 2 days. So clearly trending better. But still not 100%.
After 14 whole days of this mess. I'm hoping come next week I will be able to breathe without horking - forget dreams of Olympic Gold, I just want to be able to live snot free. Is that asking too much...?
Monday, July 28, 2008
Calm before the storm...?
Things have been a teetch odd recently, mainly in that they haven't been odd. Qua? Never fear, I will 'splain.
It seems that I have somehow managed to develop something of a routine in my day to day - a routine that includes the existence of the Infant. Having a baby around the house, at some point in the past couple of weeks, became NORMAL. Which in and of itself is abnormal ("Abby? Abby who?"). The occasions when I look over, see The Infant, and go 'oh RIGHT! We have a spawn!' are decreasing down to just about zero.
Now for those without children, this would seem to be normal and good - this settling in. In most circumstances, you figure something out, learn how it works, develop a way to work with it, then set things on cruise control. Here cruise control (or any form of control really) is merely a laughable illusion. I freely admit that I have learned very little in the short time I've been Infant-rearing, but one of the precious few things I've learned is NEVER let your guard down.
Raising a child is like living in Oz (HBO, not Baum, version) only with sharp little baby fingernails instead of shivs. JUUUUUST when you think you've got things figured out there's a riot or the mob tries to take over the lunch room or your child figures out how to roll over, the latter being the scariest by far. I can speak from experience (on 2 of the 3 anyway).
That's right, the Infant has figured out how to flip from belly to back (I'll save the riot story for later). Normally when one's child reaches certain milestones parental units are overcome with joy. Not so much here. Yes, we are well pleased in an abstract sense that our offspring is developing at a semi-normal clip. However, in a practical sense, this latest development is a source of stark terror for us. And it's not ALL developments - I wasn't concerned when, just a week ago The Infant discovered the fascinating appendages known as 'feet' - OOooo! AAaaah! - and begun spending a large portion of her day grabbing at, playing with and/or attempting to jam into her mouth said feet. This was cute, in a fetish-y kinda way. The rolling though - oh God the rolling.... this is terrifying.
But why, sez you? Because rolling is the very first 'step' (pun intended) in mobility. MOBILITY! Gah! See, this lovely routine we've managed to develop, while it sadly involves very little sleep, is one that has added some stability into our little parental lives.We're starting to get the hang of this! Said routine, however, is predicated on the Infant pretty much staying where you put her. Whether she wants to or not. This means we can say, lay The Infant on the middle of the bed while putting a shirt on without worrying about her scuttling off in the 2.3 seconds we take our hands/eyes off of her. This immobility is the lynch pin of our current day-to-day, and it's about to be removed, which will result in our little carefully crafted house of infant care cards crashing down about our ears. And possibly several loosely stacked boxes as well.
Which is the OTHER larger and more terrifying aspect of this looming mobility nightmare. We need to child proof the house. Typing that, my brain just froze. Overwhelming icy panic courses through my veins. Those of you who have been following this adventure since it began will recollect that I was rendered nearly immobile myself for a large chunk of my pregnancy. This had the ripple effect of the house falling totally into the crapper, organizationally-speaking. Add a thick layer of baby accessories and teeny tiny little clothes overtop of the original neglect of household layer and you get QUITE the caca cake. Caca which the Infant is >
And time is running out fast. She's got a pretty decent bead on the belly to back roll, mainly because she despises being on her tummy - hates the view I guess. It's just a matter of days before she figures out the back to belly bit and starts stringing them together in a twirling dervish of here to there-ish-ness. She's a freakishly strong little creature and it's coordination alone that's holding her back, not lack of strength, either in will or body.
Speaking of which, the strong will is starting to express itself as well. Already the Infant has begun expressing 'opinions' about things, in the form of a new vocalization that sounds remarkably like 'NNNYARK!'. While it is nice that her vocabulary is growing beyond impassioned wailing, the corresponding growth of what can only be called 'attitude' is a less promising development in the parent Infant communication timeline. Combine these strong opinions with the looming possibility of willful motion and you begin to get a sense of my dawning horror...
I'm trying to keep myself from asking the teachers at daycare to perhaps offer just a little less 'tummy time'. It would be moot anyway - all it would do is delay the inevitable. The Infant is slowly but surely developing the skills and ability to impress her ever-growing will on the surrounding environs, and we parents are included as viable will-targets. Forget the moving from here to there bits; attempts to take control of the lunch room are merely hours away.... God help us one and all...(where's a sharpened toothbrush when you need one?!)
It seems that I have somehow managed to develop something of a routine in my day to day - a routine that includes the existence of the Infant. Having a baby around the house, at some point in the past couple of weeks, became NORMAL. Which in and of itself is abnormal ("Abby? Abby who?"). The occasions when I look over, see The Infant, and go 'oh RIGHT! We have a spawn!' are decreasing down to just about zero.
Now for those without children, this would seem to be normal and good - this settling in. In most circumstances, you figure something out, learn how it works, develop a way to work with it, then set things on cruise control. Here cruise control (or any form of control really) is merely a laughable illusion. I freely admit that I have learned very little in the short time I've been Infant-rearing, but one of the precious few things I've learned is NEVER let your guard down.
Raising a child is like living in Oz (HBO, not Baum, version) only with sharp little baby fingernails instead of shivs. JUUUUUST when you think you've got things figured out there's a riot or the mob tries to take over the lunch room or your child figures out how to roll over, the latter being the scariest by far. I can speak from experience (on 2 of the 3 anyway).
That's right, the Infant has figured out how to flip from belly to back (I'll save the riot story for later). Normally when one's child reaches certain milestones parental units are overcome with joy. Not so much here. Yes, we are well pleased in an abstract sense that our offspring is developing at a semi-normal clip. However, in a practical sense, this latest development is a source of stark terror for us. And it's not ALL developments - I wasn't concerned when, just a week ago The Infant discovered the fascinating appendages known as 'feet' - OOooo! AAaaah! - and begun spending a large portion of her day grabbing at, playing with and/or attempting to jam into her mouth said feet. This was cute, in a fetish-y kinda way. The rolling though - oh God the rolling.... this is terrifying.
But why, sez you? Because rolling is the very first 'step' (pun intended) in mobility. MOBILITY! Gah! See, this lovely routine we've managed to develop, while it sadly involves very little sleep, is one that has added some stability into our little parental lives.
Which is the OTHER larger and more terrifying aspect of this looming mobility nightmare. We need to
And time is running out fast. She's got a pretty decent bead on the belly to back roll, mainly because she despises being on her tummy - hates the view I guess. It's just a matter of days before she figures out the back to belly bit and starts stringing them together in a twirling dervish of here to there-ish-ness. She's a freakishly strong little creature and it's coordination alone that's holding her back, not lack of strength, either in will or body.
Speaking of which, the strong will is starting to express itself as well. Already the Infant has begun expressing 'opinions' about things, in the form of a new vocalization that sounds remarkably like 'NNNYARK!'. While it is nice that her vocabulary is growing beyond impassioned wailing, the corresponding growth of what can only be called 'attitude' is a less promising development in the parent Infant communication timeline. Combine these strong opinions with the looming possibility of willful motion and you begin to get a sense of my dawning horror...
I'm trying to keep myself from asking the teachers at daycare to perhaps offer just a little less 'tummy time'. It would be moot anyway - all it would do is delay the inevitable. The Infant is slowly but surely developing the skills and ability to impress her ever-growing will on the surrounding environs, and we parents are included as viable will-targets. Forget the moving from here to there bits; attempts to take control of the lunch room are merely hours away.... God help us one and all...(where's a sharpened toothbrush when you need one?!)
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