Year 2, Day 211: Smol woke up at 245 needing a diaper change, overfull and leaking diapers has been the problem this week. After a change and patting, they went back into the crib. Except that was insufficient service and they demanded my presence for another rocking on the shoulder song before they’d go to sleep peacefully. Terrorist. (Which is weird BTW, when they are being settled for a nap, they just want to be put down, they don’t want any cuddling.)
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I hit my tipping point on clutter and had to do some real tidying today: I put away all the baby veggies and cleared out JB’s now 2-3 year old Halloween, Christmas and Easter candy stash. I left a few pieces that weren’t too old. I ate their Oreos. Best by Jan 2021? Eh they were fine.
Took out an armload of recycling: plastic and paper containers that had been lingering and almost finished packing up a care package I’ve been working on for a friend’s little one. That one can go soon.
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We had my Hainan chicken and rice batch cooking failure turned porridge for dinner. It works great as a porridge so I guess we can call it a transformed meal rather than a failed one. Even Smol likes it!
Speaking of Smol, this little smudge decided they have a top tooth and a bottom tooth, they can bite food now! And they can! We learned this when they snatched a quesadilla from me and took the tiniest little chunk out of it. They glowed with pride and satisfaction.
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We’ve had another loss and I’m at a loss for what to say.
It feels like we have barely had time to cope with any one of the losses in the year. The cumulative weight of all of them together is simply too much.
Year 2, Day 204: I don’t know why but I notice that I’m irritated by effusive reactions over how terribly I feel from relatives who choose not to vaccinate (not to be confused with folks who cannot, like our kids and immunocompromised folks). It’s not my choice to make for them but these days, with the pandemic raging on and killing and hurting so many, it feels like the latter is such a selfish and politically driven choice that I can’t help but feel reactive to it. I think my core self rejects sympathy from them because it doesn’t feel like it could be real? I don’t know. I suppose it doesn’t matter, I’m just noticing the feelings and now hopefully releasing them to the winds.
Actually. Before I release them, I think I do get it. Because if I want to see them, their refusal to get vaccinated feels a whole lot more personal now. Because they know how vulnerable I am, even more so than Smol because it’s quite possible that Smol has a working immune system but I don’t. And while they’re not obligated to care enough about me to get vaccinated and help a sister out, it’s clear they don’t care enough about me to get vaccinated and help a sister out. Whatever their personal wants are, they’re more important than my needs.
That’s why it feels insincere. There’s nothing I can do or say about it since that call is their own, but it feels wrong.
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On a commercial for a university, the narrator says: “The world equally distributes talent, but it doesn’t equally distribute opportunity.” It made me think of this post I’d just read from Jim at Route to Retire: “Many times folks want to attribute financial success to one’s background. …. I don’t buy into that. I’ve already said that you need to play the hand you’re dealt to live the life you dream and I meant that.”
Later in the comments he agrees with me that what you do matters, so does where you start from, and so does luck. So he and I agree. But initially it made me flash back to all the PF bloggers who argued that it’s ONLY down to what you do with what you have, and that your background has nothing to do with your successes. That group overlaps with the group that thinks everything in this world is merit based, microaggressions don’t exist, and that diversity is pandering to the masses rather than leveling a heavily tilted playing field. It’s weird.
Year 2, Day 205: I was struck by a realization today. Yesterday, a friend played sounding board for a family holiday communication and scheduling dilemma. Basically a part of my family that I miss and wanted to see, but has been adamantly anti COVID vax, and only masks when required, hasn’t been answering my messages for months. The last time was when I asked a direct question about gifts they’d sent for the kids. So I messaged a direct question about holiday plans and it’s been crickets for weeks. In the interim, I’ve seen other parts of the family and I didn’t think we had an issue since they readily agreed to all staying masked for both my sake and the baby’s sake. I’m immunocompromised enough that I truly can’t take risks and they all know that. (more…)
Year 2, Day 197: What a day. Up three times to the piercing screams of a Very Sad Baby with a low grade fever, even though PiC was going to cover, because I can’t sleep through that ruckus and it’s really hard for one of us to medicate an uncooperative baby at night. He took the last call alone because I couldn’t move anymore but I couldn’t stop myself propelling my body out of bed automatically the first two times. Unintentional, but still. The damage was done.
Whatever it is that started the fever in Smol also left them with general fussiness (so many tears, soooo many tears) and a red nose. I can’t see any other obvious symptoms – no coughing or sneezing but they have cried so hard they’ve thrown up on me, twice. This is NOT our deal, child. Vomit –> PiC. Not Me. Sigh. At least it’s not sick vomit, and yes, there is a difference. And somehow it matters to my brain.
Of course the virus also took out my ability to function. Every millimeter aches, breathing hurts, my brain can only zero in on faults (that floor is filthy and needs to be scrubbed!), I’m feeling sad and angry and lonely and isolated. But I don’t want to talk to anyone because I’m angry and tired and hurting.
I’m sad that when this happens, the load all falls on PiC. I’m sad that I have a million dishes to keep spinning and when I’m sick, I cannot spin but half of them, if that. I hate feeling this way. I hate feeling physically crappy and feeling emotionally like a scooped out husk of a fruit rind. I’m also mad that my body still cannot handle viruses.
Turns out, of course, Smol Acrobat does not like taking medicine, and found that alternating a few CCs of meds with a scoop of yogurt helps that medicine go down. I had to take the morning part since he had meetings he couldn’t cancel but thankfully PiC quickly took the rest of the day and tomorrow off so that he can be primary childminder and I can get some rest.
1. I made a huge batch of lemongrass chicken for dinner and for freezing. It seemed like the ratio of lemongrass to chicken was too low but it turned out ok. Still doubling the lemongrass and garlic for the next time I make this, though.
2. The bad news is that I got really sick. The good news is that PiC was not taken down and was able to get us delicious tofu soup take out which really hit the spot. The bad news outweighs the good overall but I still give him credit.
3. My favorite AAM comment this week: “Dead employees tend to be unresponsive and don’t return paperwork, but rarely commit outright sabotage. They could be described as uncooperative, but only in a purely passive sense.”
SALLY: God, please if you’re listening, don’t take Bob from me. Bob is a saint! He loans me money. Take Ted if you must.
GOD: WTF
GOD: who gave u this number
4. After 9.5 months in a box, I finally have our sewing machine on my shelf where it belongs. May it be far less than 9.5 more months before I figure out how to sew a straight seam.
People who need direct aid:
Ill mother and daughter need roof repairs: Go Fund Me
Challenges this week: my dominant wrist was swollen and couldn’t bear weight for days. Not awesome.
I then got sick and plunged deep in a sickness-induced pain flareup all week. This.Really. Sucks. Every joint is angry and Has Words for me.
Smol’s had a hell of a week. Teething, sores on their tongue, sick and feverish.
Oh goody. I thought I had a few more years before the social media conversation. They have been learning drawing from this YouTube channel and they ended a video with “post your pic to Instagram!” So of course JB came over and asked if we could take a picture of their art to “send to the art people”.
I said no, we do not use that service. But also since we have already talked about how advertising and marketing works, I explained that sort of thing is partly about sharing but partly it’s about advertising and we do not do free advertising for companies.
In truth, sure we do sometimes, but we’re not starting now at age 6.
I guess I have to start laying the groundwork for a healthy way to use social media now.
Related: Squidding Around
PiC picked out a new graphic novel from Scholastic for JB. We were reading it together and it happened to have the perfect theme for us to continue our talk about social media and how people are motivated to do things for attention. Without giving away too much, Squizzard, the main character is angry about not getting published and goes on to pull a misguided and hurtful prank. We talked about how adults will even do foolish things for attention on social media (without getting into specifics), how people lose sight of who is really important because of a thirst for 15 minutes of fame (people who actually know and love them vs people they’ll never know or meet) and how people can make foolish choices for attention.
We also discussed how social media itself is just a tool and tools are neither good or bad overall (though biased algorithms absolutely are a thing, that isn’t something I’m going to dive into just yet with a six year old), it’s about how you use them about remembering that you don’t know all the other people who use them too. We won’t let them start using anything until we’ve had a lot of discussions about behavior, how social media works, all of that. There’s this Jack Prelutsky poem we’ve read in the past that I reminded JB of that’s very relevant:
I had a little secret
That I could not wait to tell,
I whispered it to Willa,
who repeated it to Nell.
Nell had to tell Belinda,
Who told Laura and Lenore,
I think my little secret
is no secret anymore. (more…)
Spiritually: I had a dream about dead loved ones being alive and that always hurts my soul. Emotionally, I’ve been reading Codependent No More and some of the stuff I identify with there is slightly jarring. None of it is actually a surprise, I’d already identified those compulsions in myself as things that don’t serve me and need to stop. But it’s still a bit jarring in the early phase. Physically, I put Smol Acrobat in the baby carrier for a short walk today and the impact on my entire body is unbelievable. Ow ow ow and ow.
Parenting pain: we’re in some kind of regression with Smol where they don’t want much solid food, we have to compensate with formula, and they aren’t sleeping even 9 hours at night.
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I could feel the urge for retail therapy nipping at me today. I noticed it and I acknowledged that I felt like that. Eventually it passed.
Which is not to say I don’t have plans to spend money. I have a couple but they’re very intentional. One is for my holiday gifts for a large swath of niblings and supporting a creator while I’m at it. One was for supporting an author whose work I have long enjoyed. I did the latter already.
But those plans exist separately from that urge to distract and numb from my real feelings.
After a while, I felt like I recognized what was bubbling up. I’m feeling lonely and isolated emotionally. I miss my dearest friends. I feel like my second child isn’t nearly as loved and cared for within the community as JB was. I know a huge part of that is because of the pandemic. People literally cannot be here to visit the way they did with JB was this age, nor does anyone really have the capacity to show their caring in other ways. That doesn’t mean they don’t care, they simply can’t be here. Much like my pregnancy, the flip side of not hearing all the judginess and the snark and the unwelcome advice because no one was around is that I also didn’t get to feel loved the way I might have in non-pandemic times because no one is around.
Even if it’s not true, the feelings feed the monster in me that insists I don’t deserve love and my fear of rejection. One of the things my therapist will ask me is “is that reality or is that perception?” In a lot of cases I don’t feel like I can tell the difference. It feels true that I don’t deserve love, that I won’t amount to anything, that nothing I do matters. I don’t know if that’s true because if not by my own measure, then by what would I be judging this stuff? In this case even if it feels true that I am isolated from my community and I feel that it’s because no one cares about us, it’s probably more true that people are just really busy with their own lives and own troubles and it has nothing to do with us.
I’m noticing this more as I make my way through therapy and my reading. I’m partway through “Codependent No More” and so far it’s not telling me anything I don’t have some sense of but it’s good to read it.
Year 2, Day 176: I’m feeling so conflicted. Day to day, I feel like we have more than enough to share more generously with people who need a helping hand. Everyone else’s struggles remind me frequently how fortunate we are. But I worked my tail off to get here specifically because I am concerned about the murky future and my ability to work. It’s very important to give but I’m also responsible for keeping our own parachutes in good repair. Even with whatever work I do to improve my health, which I can only do now because I’ve been so aggressive with saving that we can afford some of that crucial healthcare, my baseline immune system is unreliable. I need to be able to step away from work earlier than later. Mortality aside, I don’t have good years in the tank. At best, they’re slightly less crappy than before years. They’re dominated by pain, fatigue, and limited range of motion. I want to have more freedom to use my precious energy only / mostly on what’s actually important to me and my family, which doesn’t include working a job. I feel selfish about taking care of myself financially. I shouldn’t. But I do.
In writing this, I just realized what it is. I feel selfish for taking care of myself first. If you told me that I had to look out for JB’s health future because they had chronic health issues, I would take on the world to make sure it was as secure as possible. If it was Smol or PiC on the line? Same thing. But because it’s me who is the “weak link”, well, I’m reverting to form and saying that I’m not good enough to be a priority.
Look at that, spotting an unhealthy pattern happening right there.
It’s wild that it’s hard for me to say: It’s ok to take care of myself. It’s ok to secure my future. It’s ok to make sure that I have choices even if I wasn’t thinking about making sure I wasn’t a burden on my kids in the future.
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We’re so grateful for the holiday weekend. I still had work to do but the reprieve was so much needed. We spent the whole weekend at home doing all the needed chores and trying to rest and reset.
Year 2, Day 177: Related to yesterday’s thoughts: My job isn’t actually a bad one, especially when I remember to put reasonable limits on the madness during times of extra stress, but I am definitely still reacting very negatively to the most minor provocations that at best deserve an eyeroll. I’m so tired of work. I’m also just so tired. This tiredness frequently puts me in the negative spiral mood: thinking that I wish we were further along in our FI journey so I could exercise the choice to not work for a long period of time. Getting mad thinking about all the money I wasted taking care of a lying, selfish grifter father because that much money invested back then would have made SUCH a massive difference in our choices today. I can’t even let myself run those numbers because to have the confirmation in numbers that it would have made it possible for us to have better choices during this terrible time makes me mad enough to spit.
Sadly, I can’t take a leave of absence and come back to this job. The team is too small to do without me and keep my job for me. I’m also very much not interested in any of the compromises I’d have to make for every other job out there, I’ve looked, so keeping this job is the least worst of all the available options that I am aware of. Sigh. Anyway, getting that off my chest periodically helps release that pressure and stop the If Only spiral by reminding myself I did the best I could with the knowledge I had at the time and now I’m doing the best I can too.
Part of me grumbles that I did a piss poor job back then so why should I take comfort now with the knowledge that maybe I don’t have all the relevant information and maybe I’m just in a perpetual cycle of screwing up but I suspect that’s a new bad spiral.
Year 2 of COVID in the Bay Area.