Unwellness

grateful still

Thanksgiving was crappy and angry and full of the bitter spirits and we were productive but in bad moods and we didn't get to do much of anything fun and I can't say we had a good four days.

And now we are all in various stages of The Sick, which I haven't really properly shaken since early October. Wes is at the end of a hacking cold, I am just falling hardcore into it again and the poor baby is in excellent spirits all day but coughing so much at night that he can't sleep.

All that said,

I am still ever so grateful.

the kind of mother i am

Yes. That is my iPhone he is using. While I play on Facebook with the laptop. Why do you ask?

1550

So it's been nearly 7 years since I started blogging.

This is my 1550th blog post on unwellness.

And sometimes I worry a little that it's winding down, that my twice a week blogging will never compare to my daily blogging, that the bits of brilliance that once peppered my prose have been lost to Working Motherdom.

And yes, I occasionally consider ending it and removing this worry, putting it out of its misery, letting myself off the hook.

No need to worry, though. I won't. I won't end it because I am SO VERY BAD at ever letting myself off any potential hook.

Something I could add to my full plate? Heap it on!

Something additional I could obsess and worry over late into the night? BRING IT!

Something to feel guilty about not doing? Or not doing well? YAY!

A hook somewhere out there? On which to hang myself? Why, here is the back of my shirt. Hang. Me. Up.

I took a novel approach to a meeting this week. It was a big meeting for my Peer Review and I was GNASHING my teeth over it all day long. OH! The GNASHING! Ask my poor, long-suffering assistant (yes, that poor assistant of mine with her successful art career and published novel at the age of 25...ask her.... sheesh). Anyway, she put up with me to the extent that I felt the need to reward her with muffins today. Albeit healthy ones I actually baked for Beck.

But the meeting was fine because of my unprecedented approach of SAYING WHAT I ACTUALLY FELT.

It pulled the focus out of the things I was worried about (nitpicky details that make me defensive because it's a new unit) and into the stuff I actually can't solve by myself - the overall structure and schedule of my program. It feels revolutionary. Might I actually wind up one of those dewey-eyed converts like my colleagues, convinced of the incredible power of peer-centric professional development? Crazier things have happened! Though the day dew enters these eyes... blech. Nonetheless, there were muffins for the whole committee today. Apple bran. But still.

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I read The Hunger Games Friday night and Saturday morning and then I spent six hours at the bookstore reading the sequel (avoiding buying something I seriously did not need to own but seriously could not resist reading RIGHT THEN). God bless Wes for his indulgences of me. I saw the kid for a total of 30 minutes that day, I think.

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Newbery club is nearing the vote for finalists. I will certainly post them here next week!

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The refi takes a long time and involves a lot of paperwork. And each time they ask for more paper I worry again about it not working and having to re-enter the world of Sunday Open Houses. Yes, the house was delightfully clean all the time. But I am loving having my Sundays back to spend with my kiddo.

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Time has a big article on overparenting that I think a lot of people should read. If you have to ask... it may be you. Heh.

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I am closing in on 10,000 comments. OK, yeah, I am hundreds away from it. But closing in.

10,000th Commenter gets bran muffins.

show and tell

I have a sort of random assortment of links I have been meaning to share, so you're getting them all today.

First, you know about my deep devotion to This American Life, discovered ever so late in the game.

Wait, have I ever told you about WHY it took me so long to listen to it? I am sorry if I am repeating myself.

It took me a long, long time to enjoy anything from NPR because I thought that the entire creation was an overly intellectual, self-congratulatory bore. Worse than that, I TRULY believed that everyone just SAID they liked NPR to seem smart.

I also TRULY believed that NO ONE liked foreign films and likewise just ran around talking about them to seem ever-so-brilliant and fascinating. It took literally five years of being together before I finally believed Wes when he said that he preferred them.

Anyway.

This American Life ran a two part series on health care a few weeks ago that totally helped me understand the depth of our problems. I mean, I knew we were screwed, but now I know the history and causation of our screwedness. I feel ever so much more well-informed, if still totally clueless about what the future holds with all these shitty plans they keep throwing together. Something has to change, though - this series made that really clear.

Here is my favorite idea from the show, meant to illuminate the utter ridiculousness of having our health care tied to employment:

Imagine that groceries were paid for by our employers. We went to the grocery store and paid our $25 copay and we were allowed to get whatever we wanted and it would be charged to our employer. We would have no reason to ever worry about what food cost and would eat lobster every day. The grocery store would have no reason to keep costs down since the employer would be stuck paying for it, and they would charge crazier and crazier prices for things.

This is what we have going on. When is the last time you (by which I mean perpetually insured people, like myself) thought about how much something cost? Did you know that a generic drug can cost $150 but the brand name will cost $650? Did you know that a hospital can charge one insurance company $1500 for an appendectomy and $15,000 for another insurance company? And did you know that Maryland passed some sort of state law to make all medical procedures cost the same everywhere for everyone and it has helped!?

Yes, so the topic is sort of overwhelming and depressing. But I like understanding things more deeply.

Related to that is Planet Money. I first heard their reports on This American Life and was impressed by the simplicity and clarity of the economic stories. I am the last person who can handle deep economic theory and yet they made it totally accessible and entertaining. I now understand what the eff is up with banks failing and why insurance for hedgehogs might give us all a model to follow. I highly recommend them, as well - both their stories on TAL and their separate, shorter podcasts. Their blog, which I just discovered, also seems useful.

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On to other, less depressing things.

You may not know this, but Wes and I have a longterm goal of ending up in Manhattan as part of an agreement made in 1997. He was wrenched out of the East Village and dragged kicking to Park Slope because of my firm commitment to return him to his rightful island sometime down the line, preferably when we have enough money to live in a doorman building (the better to monitor the midnight behavior of your teenagers...) in Chelsea.

But I love Brooklyn. I am relishing my time here, even when I get exasperated or bored by a decade-plus in the same 20 block radius. The boro is so vibrant and exciting in its own right, and sometimes it takes Martha Stewart to remind you of that fact.

Please check out her episode devoted to my chosen home - the Brooklyn Flea segment made me tear up a little bit, so thrilled was I to see people whose businesses we have cheered on and patronized over the years. And so lovely is our bridge.... The popsicles she tastes were the first ones Beck ever tried. The ice cream she mentions is my absolute favorite. The tote bag she showcases is one I have given as a gift more than once. It was exciting to see and made me ever so proud.

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Want to see what I have been up to at work? I have a new Fourth Grade arrangement where I teach library in the computer lab, and I have spent a month or so immersed in this fabulous curriculum, adapted a bit for our school. What a tremendous resource. Super big thanks to these folks for creating such a perfect-looking website with which to totally lie to my students. Their heads nearly exploded when I told them that they had just spent 20 minutes researching a pack of lies (always read the About page, suckers!). Heh.

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Reading suggestions? Did I already mention how pissed I am that a good friend and colleague turned me on to Stieg Larsson's trilogy and I devoured them, only to discover that he is dead and the third book doesn't come out until June???? Is there anything more frustrating?

 How about the fact that I finally started reading last year's most talked-about Young Adult novel, one I was super excited to begin.... and that I bought it on my Kindle for iPhone and am happily ensconced in it... but I am suddenly hyper aware that its sequel is not available in Kindle form. Grrr..... I predict that I might spend tomorrow sitting in the bookstore reading the entire thing while Beck is at music class.

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I am hopeful that the refinancing of our house will relieve a bit of our economic pressure as of late, though the double whammy of preschool and college ahead of us still remains a mystery that financial aid offices will not resolve until Spring.

The thing I miss most about our new, more-broke life is travel. It is probably Wes' and my most favorite activity and there has been absolutely none for a long, long time now. Sesame Place has become a vacation. And that is sad.

It is making me especially sad this week as Royal Caribbean launches its latest, greatest, most incredibly enormous ship yet. I SHOULD BE ON THIS SHIP. Do you HEAR ME, ROYAL CARIBBEAN? TAKE ME! I WILL BLOG FOR YOU!!

Do you want to know why I removed my Blogging With Integrity button? Because I would sell out this whole blog if Royal Caribbean would come along and offer to send me on cruises in exchange for hyper-happy blog posts about them. So just in case my every word becomes a perky lovefest to this particular cruiseline, you will have to excuse me. It will mean that my life's goal of free cruising has become a reality and you should be happy for me and accept my weakness. And also my cheesiness.

 

PS. That is not really why I removed the button. I just wanted The IVP to have a more prominent position, and I felt like a poseur since I haven't been as involved in BlogHer blogs as I would like these last few months.

hi

Hi blog! Whatchu doin' blog?

Thus begins every conversational exchange in our home lately. He asks us at least hourly what we are doing, whether we are futzing with dinner preparations or sitting right next to him playing trains. It is a chipper and pleasant little question, one that never fails to make us laugh.

Does he not seem gigantic and kid-like? Good freaking heavens.

This week we discovered that our boy has been running quite the scam on his day care teachers. One mentioned to MIL that Beck wasn't feeding himself at lunch.

"Oh, he was feeling a little tired today. Maybe..."

"No, never. He never feeds himself. We always feed him when he has something that needs a utensil. We thought that just must be what you do."

ACK ACK ACK!!!! We were mistaken for THOSE PARENTS! Holy crap.

Now I will admit to shoveling some food in when we are at the dregs of dinner after a long day when he is looking glassy-eyed and busy processing whatever educational programming I had running in order to prepare said dinner. It happens every so often. But by and large, the boy feeds himself. The boy can use a fork and spoon just. fine.

Admittedly, he sometimes comes up with more creative solutions.

So today Wes marched in and told them to stop feeding him, that if he was hungry enough he would use the spoon, and he and the head teacher both talked to Beck about it and we waited anxiously for an update. And MIL reported that... they fed him again. They said he just seemed so hungry and would happily eat from them and they didn't want him to be hungry.

He has them wrapped around his freaking adorable finger. Ugh.

It occurred to me yesterday, as I was rolling around amidst my pillows with my boy, that I am, in fact, a mother. It's one of those facts that comes along to wallop me in the head once in a while. It's huge and scary and still totally unbelievable to me more than two years into this endeavor. And sweet and stunning and overwhelmingly beautiful.

As I watched him giggle and hide his stuffed animals under his father's pillow (to be discovered by Wes at bedtime, naturally), I had a huge rush of sensory memory. Remember what it felt like to be in your parents' bed? I hope I am not the only one who associated that place with comfort and safety and utter peace. My mother's bed was so incredibly key to my stability that I believe there were months where I went directly there upon arriving home from school, did my homework there, watched TV there, and often stayed there until she returned from work and sometimes on into cheese-and-crackers-dinners and sleep. If I had a dreaded teenaged babysitter (a thing I detested so strongly that my mother sometimes let me stay alone as early as age seven - now that seems crazy but I LOVED it. Because I HATED babysitters), I spent the entire evening in my mother's bed with her bedroom door closed tight against the hated intruder. It was by far my favorite place in her house.

So I was struck by this rush of feeling. And I suddenly thought -

Maybe Beck feels that way right now. About MY BED. Because I am HIS MOTHER.

And I swear that I almost passed out from the shock of it. Me? A source of safety and security and peace for another human being? A very small and cute one, at that?

If I am doing it right, I suppose so.

imperfect

I made a new banner at 11:30 pm on a Sunday. So it's... not perfect.

But it's new and autumnal (just in time for winter). And it matches the photo I wanted to use. And it incorporates the wheelhead guy Calliope gave me. And it matches my kid's hair.

So that's good.

phew

One of the biggest time-sucks of the last two weeks? Complete. Done. Over. Phew.

The Incredibly Important Author Visit went swimmingly. Couldn't have been better.

If you want more from he who wrote of cheese that does not smell good, try his fairly new memoir. EXCELLENT for kids ages 8-10 who like stories about blowing stuff up and peeing on things.

late for the party

It's fricking NaBloPoMo. It's fricking the third of NaBloPoMo and I had this little glimmer of an inkling of an idea in the baaaaaaaack of my head that it might be a good idea for me to do this to get my ass back in the blogging saddle. But have I started? I have not. You may not have noticed what with unwellness being a mothereffing ghosttown and all.

Did you know there are actual ghosttowns in Arizona? I remember visiting one called, fittingly, Tombstone as a child. If you find the Wild West charming and fascinating and romantic rather than, oh, dusty and hot as I do... you might enjoy a visit with your cowboy-obsessed offspring someday.

Anyway, I received a check from BlogHer the other day for those ads over there and thought... "Oh, right! BLOGHER! That lovely organization that asked me to speak and recognized me for, um, writing a blog. Right! A blog! That thing I did tirelessly and consistently for, like, six years or so until I became a mom who works full-time. Right. That.... Shit."

BlogHer is here in NYC next year and I fully intend to go, provided I can find a couple hundred dollars buried in my yard or something. But what kind of blogger am I, anyway?

I am lately the same kind of blogger as I am writer. Which is.... not.

Mo' committees, mo' problems, and I am on a lot of them. Every time I get a tiny bit ahead on the most integral and necessary parts of my job, another email arrives asking me to speak at some meeting or deal with some other giant project. It is good to be recognized but....  When I asked my boss why I am on so many things, he cheerily replied, "Want something done? Ask a busy person!" Which I... am.

But I would like to blog again. I feel like a chunk of my soul is missing when I am not spewing into the ether on a regular basis. So here. Let's get caught up.

A Brief History of the Past Few Years

When we decided to have a baby, Mother-in-Law declared that she would be our nanny.

When I was newly pregnant, we bought a house. A big, expensive house that needed expensive re-doing so that we could fit everyone into it. But it was OK that it was expensive because we wouldn't have to pay for day care. Plus the market was, like, crazy, and we had just made craploads of money in two years in our condo and we felt stupidly invincible.

After we bought the house, Mother-in-Law told us she could only promise that she would stay with us a year.

We tried not to panic. We would beg and borrow money until we could sell the house and afford daycare. I secured him a spot in full time daycare near my work.

By last Spring, Mother-in-Law had changed her mind and decided to return to us after the summer. I GAVE UP THE FULL TIME DAY CARE SLOT in favor of a minimal, part-time slot. We decided to go ahead with the house sale, knowing it would take a while given the new crap market.

24 hours after she returned to us this fall, Mother-in-Law announced that she would not actually be staying for the year. She is leaving in January.

The full time daycare slot is gone, though we are hopeful that one might open up and we will get it. We are going to start working on our back-up plan in a few weeks if necessary. It will be a cobbled-together, crazy-ass plan, I am sure. There is still more money begging and borrowing being done.

We got a great offer to refinance that could allow us to stay in the house longer, though we still won't be be totally solvent and will still have to cross everything for excellent financial aid in future. But it would be a relief - we are enjoying the house and, most importantly, there is NOTHING out there we want to buy. If we could make it until GMB finishes college, we might be able to actually make money on our investment house AND buy a super nice two bedroom when we move instead of whatever-three-bedroom-we-can-find-in-our-budget-even-if-we-hate-it. Anyway, if you wouldn't mind, cross your fingers that the refi and the daycare spot all come together for us.

I should add here, in the interest of fairness, that Mother-in-Law was not TRYING to make our lives miserable. She has a complicated co/dependent relationship with Wes' dad and he is aging and perhaps declining. She feels like she needs to be there.

So besides the general panic of work and the two-week long cold/flu I have been battling and the general joy and pain of having a two year old... I have been in yet another state of limbo with house and child care all up in the air all. the. damn. time. I know that we are inordinately lucky in so many ways and I do still find lots lots lots to be grateful for (no, really, I DO!). But Not Knowing What Is Going To Happen is by far my least favorite thing. And it is our constant state of being.

But you know, frequently these days, I make giant wishes that things could be stable and easy for a little while, that we could pause and enjoy and relax, that things could just settle the fuck down already. But more and more, I am starting to believe that this IS life. Not Knowing IS the way it is. And things just keep coming at you like freaking Atari Space Invaders and the point of life is just to keep shooting at the bad guys. That sounds more violent than my previous life outlooks but there you go. I really do feel like my thirties are not going to be a settled decade for me. I have high hopes for my fifties.