This is a long post. I’ve had some blogstipation, and I didn’t make that word up, but I can’t remember who did. Maybe Amalah? I don’t know. I act like I know these people, and I don’t. I also get annoyed when the bloggers I read go around vomiting up these gigantic posts, and yet I do it all the time. I’ll be all “gah! I don’t have three hours!” and then I’ll have a major blog-clogging release about once a week. So bear with me, or don’t read, or whatever. But know that you’ll be rewarded with Bird photos at the end of the post, which is a reward of the highest order, in my opinion.
So you might want to bail on dinner at my house for awhile
I have now officially seen more than three creatures in my kitchen that start with “R” and end with “-oach.” Fuck.
Snacks on a Plane
If I’d had a laptop to tap away at while I patiently flew across the country and back, there would have been some, eh, verbose blogging going on. Nothing like captive time to make you analyze every move and every thought you have and crap your pants with insight. I took some manic scribbled notes that really meant something at the time, but which I can’t decipher now. I also apparently hit a serious self-improvement streak and made this note, along with other generalized keys to success: “Financial: Check bank balance every day!” Did I need the exclaimation point? And did you know I’ve been writing myself that same note since I was eighteen? That must have been after I closed the latest issue of Real Simple and thought I might set the world on fire. Or at least buy some bins and make some lists to organize it. And then I ended up watching Gray’s Anatomy with no sound over someone else’s shoulder on their laptop. So maybe I wouldn’t have churned out a blog entry if I’d had a laptop, after all.
And about the actual trip:
And what about this guy?
*There is an unmatched sweetness in the early morning with a three-year-old, snuggled up under the covers with you, watching the farm report.
*It hasn’t been so long since Birdy was a tiny baby, but it took me a minute to figure out what to do with the little guy I traveled to meet. People tell you it’s going to go by fast/ they grow up so fast/ she’ll be walking before you know it, and shit. They are right. Have I already said that? Shut up, it’s true. In exactly one month my tiny Bird will be one year old. And being so many miles away from her with such a concrete reminder of our speedy enemy (time) made me freak out a little bit about how much I’ve already missed.
*My friend stays home with her bambini, and while I know it isn’t easy to do and it certainly isn’t easy on the checkbook, I am so envious of her opportunities, her abilities, and her challenges. She is raising kind and wise children, and I need these visits to check in with her and just observe, because my best parenting moments are just my clumsy imitation of what she does every single day. If you are fortunate enough to stay home with your babies and know them the way that my friend knows her boys, you are a very, very fortunate parent.
*Severe job anxiety gave me short bouts of insanity, feeling so freaking overwhelmed by all of the mess I’ve gotten myself into. There are lots of scribblings about that, but I can’t even explain what it felt like then because it feels so differently a week later. (again, if I’d had a laptop…) It’s going to be fine. It’s going to be hard, and it might suck, but it’s going to be fine. We need the money, and I need to be responding to a need for a new wheelchair instead of trying to fish through last month’s donations to make sure everything was recorded correctly in the right database. Because that sucks, and so does the paycheck.
*Also on this trip, I found myself nose to nose with the vice grip of cigarettes, the power of friendship, the cleansing properties of a good cry, the effect of 4 beers each on 2 moms who don’t get out much, and the fact that everything looks so much better after a few hours of sleep.
Meanwhile, back in the South
A. and I decided to have “old fashioned night” on Saturday, after pining briefly for the days of swinging by a neighborhood bar after work and swinging back out again several hours later, tipsy and smoky, and falling into bed without a shred of a plan for the next morning. So we drank beers and smoked (I know, I know) a few cigarettes on the back porch (after Bird was soundly sleeping) and actually talked. Not about budgets or diapers or refrigerator inventory, either. With A’s weird hours and my overload of commitments, it was nice to spend some QT with my husband-husband, instead of my roommate-husband.
The Bird Report
Bird is really getting the hang of this walking business. Here are some pics of her stomping around the house with a pad of paper, barking out orders: