This morning was so much smoother than yesterday, and really shouldn't have been. I've got some weird sore-throat thing going on and my little friend cried when it was time to get up because she was "so tired, Mama!" But I was patient, and didn't complain. It got better. She was happy and laughing when the bus came, ran to me with a giant hug, and off she went.
I decided to take a different approach to a term start morning today. Instead of hiding on the couch glued to the laptop or a book, resenting the fact that it's term start and may not be an easy day, I cleaned bathrooms and vacuumed and threw some laundry in. Hoping to leave the house soon to go vote and take care of some errands before heading to Salem. See? Working late can be useful...the post office, library and polls are quieter this time of day.
Oh! and I have a new recipe favorite to share...from Tasty Kitchen, a cinnamon swirl coffee cake that is ridiculously easy and SO yummy. I used my largest springform and took it to breakfast in Hampton Falls, and I came back with less than half a cake. (I omitted the pecans to suit various non-nut-eaters). I brought the remains to work yesterday and it disappeared in less than 2 hours. I am thinking this might be a perfect breakfast bite for pre-Thanksgiving festivities.
The ninja tiger enjoyed it.
One last thing, kind of random....interesting piece of Yogi tea wisdom this morning: If your word does not reflect your spirit and honor, do not speak.
So today is November 1st. It was supposed to be the start of something new and different, better habits, clearer headspace, a step toward getting me what I need while still taking care of everyone else. I keep making and breaking this commitment, but....I see you, Birthday, hiding around the bend. Don't think I don't. And don't think I don't remember the time that I said that a whole bunch of stuff was going to change before you came around again.
I meant to get up early and get a little exercise this morning. I'm a much nicer person to be around when I do...well, the reasons for it don't really need to be counted. But since I stayed up way too late last night (again), watching Family Guy repeats and dozing off? Nope.
So my not-a-morning-person self rolls out of bed this morning, all chicken hair and surly Monday growling, and proceeds to try to get me and the girl out the door. Some C4 would have been helpful. She's poky, I'm poky. I get it into my deluded brain that I should be trying to do laundry too. Along the way I lose sight of the time, have the five-year-old watch for the bus (!?!)....okay. So how does this drop-off thing work?
Work was, well, the day you would expect someone to have in this circumstance. One of the things that is true about me is that I have such a hard time turning a bad day around! [Sometimes? I don't even try.] But then I found out that one of Pete's friends from high school died last Thursday, at the age of 34. He had been recovering from a stroke, and worked so hard toward finding inner peace. I really hope that he's found it. I want to believe that he has. I spent a lot of my day thinking instead of doing what They pay me to do, which is put out financial fires.
I've come to a few conclusions (in no apparent order):
There will always be things I cannot control. I need to let them go.
Some of the things I can control? Are just not that important. I need to let them go too.
Sleep and water and food and exercise? Non-negotiables. Workday? Does not matter.
I am pretty freaking lucky to even have the luxury of this pity party. I have a family and friends and my health and a job (that I hate) and can take care of myself and the people I care about.
I need to do more creating (baking, knitting, writing, dreaming) and less complaining.
And two plans:
National Blog Posting Month (NaBloPoMo). It's November. I'm doing it. One post, every day, for a month.
An idea I got from an old friend on facebook: 21 Days without Complaining. I'm going 28, starting tomorrow, which puts me at the 29th if I can do it. If I break the rule, I start counting again.
And really? Isn't it better to focus on this, and on whatever moment may be at hand, instead of whining?
Our first day of kindergarten was yesterday. When I say "our", I don't mean it in the way that mothers often say, "Okay, now, let's eat our breakfast....." It has really felt as though we've all been barreling unmistakeably and unstoppably toward that day all summer. Or at least for the past few weeks. Sunday night and yesterday morning, I felt as though it were my first day too- checking and double-checking that the backpack was labeled, the milk money safely in an envelope with her name on it, the laundry done. I had braced myself for whatever might come when the bus arrived. And as it turned out, it was perfect.
Charlotte's been different in the past weeks: physically clingy here and there, regressing into baby talk one moment, coming out with funny, almost snarky, comments the next. She's asked questions that are difficult to answer and been thoughtful about things, all while following me from room to room, close at my heels. She has known that things are about to change, and (I think) wasn't quite sure how she felt about it.
A week or so ago at bedtime, she brought me Someday to read:
Someday I will stand on this porch and watch your arms waving to me until I no longer see you. Someday you will look at this house and wonder how something that feels so big can look so small.
I find myself faced with both huge excitement at what lies ahead and reluctance to let this time go- the same duality that has come before, and will again, as she moves through each major development. This is what children do, what they are supposed to do. They grow up, and they get on a school bus, you drop them off at a college campus, you visit them at a first apartment and plan their weddings. They grow up. This means that you did your job right.
The conclusion that I've come to is that my feelings on the eve of big kid-dom are not all about Charlotte, because the growing and the developing and the independence? that's all normal and good and I look forward to all of it. Part of it is me, and how I am changing, how we evolve together as mother and child, as individuals, as a family, and for me and Pete, as a couple. I don't feel as though my whole identity has been tied up in motherhood, although it is now one of the cornerstones of the structure of who I am.
I recently read Bad Mother. And while Ayelet Waldman does discuss mothering her four children, the book is more about how being a mother has changed her in ways that have little to do with her children, about the invisible standards that exist for mothers and how were are destined to fail if we insist on holding ourselves up to those shadowy yardsticks for scrutiny. There needs to be someone inside Mommy's head besides Mommy. It is necessary, and healthy, that there are things that matter in addition to our kids....and it's a hard dogma to maintain in the face of the helicopter parents and professional room mothers who judge a person for working full time. For taking advantage of the after-school care every minute between when school ends and 5:30 pm. For taking a weekend off and visiting with friends. For working late and coming home after the kidlet(s) have gone to sleep.
The hardest judgments are those we place on ourselves. The most difficult standards for me to live up to are my own.
And what this whole line of thinking circles back to is the fact that I an still searching for answers. Since it's fairly obvious that I could be doing more fulfilling things with my time, what's next? I know who I am. I know that I am not defined by my work, but it's a part of my identity (not least because I've been doing the same work for so long). The idea of making changes leads me down a path of choices (which is always difficult) and possible sacrifices (even more difficult). I'm too comfortable. I need to shake things up and be prepared for whatever comes my way.
Pete recently told me that he's observed my process for making a gin and tonic. He said, "You gather your gin, and your tonic water and limes, your knife and a board for the lime....you put it all together in a certain order, and it's the same every time....exactly like your father."
Well, let's see: [I might also have wiped the drips from the outside of the glass, and from the counter.]
So...I was going to write something thoughtful about my month of daily blogging...but it is late, and again I am wiped out. Relaxing is hard work....we had a lazy day at home and then rolled up to North Berwick for dinner, drinks and sitting by the fire.
I just got in from work. Now, it's not as bad as it sounds...one of the regional managers offered to take the entire Portsmouth start team out to dinner to celebrate having made our July goal. Despite the fact that I don't care much for this woman, I decided that I needed to accept her generosity graciously, without speculating about her motivations.
I am glad I did. There was shop talk, but there was also sharing stories about real life, teasing one another about our little quirks, dissecting everyone's star signs and how closely we each adhere to those characteristics, and enjoying a really nice meal. [We went to Jumpin' Jay's...I had the seared tuna with sesame glaze and wasabi aioli. Their calamari and mussels are fabulous too.] I remembered again what I liked about working with some of these people, and that makes me smile. I laughed, and I made people laugh. A few of us even went for a beer afterward.
Now here's the funny, or maybe the beautiful, thing: this morning I had been thinking about how little I wanted to go. It meant a long day, working until later than I normally do on Wednesdays; it meant socializing with a few people who have driven me batshit crazy for weeks now. It meant being away from home and family, and wearing something other than flip flops and soccer shorts after 6 pm. But it felt like the right thing to do, to show acceptance when someone offers their thanks, to be gracious and grateful and to make an effort when you don't feel like it. You might laugh, but facing the usual meetings and calls, the long day, and the dinner....I actually sat and asked for serenity before leaving the house. And not "Serenity Now!" but the Serenity Prayer.
This past Friday night we grilled some pizza, instead of running the oven.
Basil. Garlic. Cheese. Mushrooms. Dough toppings, on deck while the crust grills just sauce and cheese (guess who that's for?) yummy. garlic/basil/mushroom, hint of pesto, cheese Because you have to have pizza after the movies! (Despicable Me, which we all loved).
It wasn't the worst day, but it wasn't the best, either. I began the day with a good attitude, and someone in the office even commented, "Hey, I haven't seen you smile like that in a long time!" But somehow, the deeper I dug into the day, the more I had the thought that it wasn't going anywhere good.
But. I tried to let go of that expectation, that decision, really. And I embraced the moment, the emotional space. I am stressed, and anxious. I don't have to be; this is only work. What do I need to do to walk away from this feeling? What can I get done today?
I worked at holding the even keel. When I got a headache, I ate lunch. And I felt better. When I needed to walk away, I did. When I needed to stop and just breathe, I did. When I realized that the buzz of people's phone calls and student meetings was making it difficult to focus, I listened to music.
I could have done better. I'm honestly surprised, and a bit sad, about how hard it really was. But I think I know what that teaches me. I have some decisions to make, clearly.
It's not as dire as it might sound....and the day did improve. It took a bit longer than I would have liked to shake off the funk, and that may have had something to do with my plan to get some work done after Charlotte went to bed. But we had dinner, just the two of us, and chatted about our day, and about her friends and other things (why does she suddenly have questions about fur coats??). We played a game...and then the bedtime ritual, with stories and kisses and even more questions and I-love-yous.
I padded downstairs, barefoot, and got a glass of water and the work laptop. I sat down to work....and the universe interfered. Between the slow connection and my crappy work Dell, I was just spinning my wheels. For a fraction of a second I got frustrated, until I sat for a minute and listened to the message.
I bagged the whole thing, put it all away, and opened a beer.
Making loose plans, and going where the road takes me each day, has made this one of the best vacations I've had in a long time. I really can't remember a night before returning to work where I have been this relaxed...or a Sunday night, even.
It's late...tomorrow brings Monday and whatever comes with it.
"Figure out what you have to do in life and then just go to work and do it. Look at your world as a beautiful world. And it is a beautiful world. It's just your job to make it a little bit better." -Leah Chase, as relayed to Kim Severson
I just finished reading Spoon Fed, and I have to be honest here. I thought this would just be a fun beach read, something along the lines of Cooking for Mr. Latte, or Confessions of a Closet Master Baker- memoirs told through food, with recipes sprinkled in for fun and to illustrate the writer's perspective more clearly. This last, though, was something more.
Severson, who writes for the New York Times, breaks down her journey into so many varied elements. Sure, each chapter deals largely with a woman (her mom, Marion Cunningham, Edna Lewis, Rachael Ray, Ruth Reichl) who ended up being influential in her life for one reason or another, but it's as much about food and career as tenacity, self-knowledge, love and family.
Food as the outward expression of love, of generosity, speaks to me. Times when I've been too sick or busy or depressed to really truly cook and to feed my family are sad and difficult for me, and I know this is rooted in my past. To gather the family, blood and "adopted", at the table, has always been one of my mother's greatest joys. You're here? Stay for dinner. I've always wanted to have those open arms and doors, but it doesn't come easily to me, and I have begun to realize that it has less to do with being closed off, and more to do with shyness, with fighting the introvert.
But do I need to fight the introvert? Really?
Maybe part of this journey that we're on is meant to include awareness and acceptance of self. For me: finding a way to have the open heart and arms without beating down the introvert.
Maybe part of this is managing expectations, another element Severson explores in her book. This is certainly not a new idea to me- I remember having a conversation with a friend years ago where he frankly told me that he tries to have no expectations on anything in his life. And it's not as bleak as it sounds, it's not out of a fear of disappointment...rather, it's a way to be open to whatever comes his way. I think it's a valuable viewpoint. I find that building preconceived ideas, whether about people or situations, never helps anything, and in fact will often just result in my being rattled by what happens.
I've tried this week to do just that- to abandon the expectations and just go with the flow. Vacations will not go according to plan, workdays will bring unexpected snafus, people will do or say things that surprise you. And it's all fine. It's good, and necessary.
Driving back over the bridge last night from Rye to Dover, we saw the most incredible sunset. It was like driving into the open heart of God. And as I watched the brilliant bands of pink and orange and blue and gray, it occurred to me that the serendipity I've come across in my life is far beyond anything I could possibly have hoped I would find.
...is that tonight, talking to my brother, I realized that I had no idea what day today was. I had some vague idea that it might be Wednesday...and possibly still July...nice.
We had such an awesome beach day today that I am considering going again tomorrow, and then again on Friday. Living the dream, man. We fled the approaching thunderstorms a bit too early (it's just starting to hit us here in Dover now), but the beauty is that in less than an hour- closer to 1/2 hour, really- we can be at one of three or four great beaches. We really are blessed with great places to visit during an at-home vacation within a stone's throw.
Tomorrow I'll try to post a bit earlier in the day, when my brain is still working. I have pictures, and interesting things I found to share...tomorrow.
Charlotte: Give me more kisses, Mama. Give me all of the kisses you have.
Me: Okay. What are you doing with all of them? Are you throwing them into the fan?
C: I am...that way all the kisses will blow out the window and into the world for all the children who have no Mama or Daddy to love them. So they can have kisses too.
