About sixteen years ago, I met him for the first time. My trainwreck sibling brought home this adorable puppy he had no business adopting because he had not one thing in his life that wasn’t a mess. I was furious at my sibling – he didn’t even take care of himself, how could he drag
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April 7, 2017
I’ve been crap at putting recipes down these days, life has been keeping me running and adding another post in the week is oddly much more difficult that I expected.
This is a quick one that I threw together.
Ingredients
Small head of broccoli
Half a pound of green beans
3 chicken thighs, bone-in
Glaze
Half a cup of blush wine dressing
1 tablespoon of honey
2 tablespoons of balsamic vinegar
Directions
Saute the cut up green beans and broccoli on medium heat for about five minutes in the dutch oven. Remove the vegetables, then saute the chicken in a little oil on medium heat until cooked nearly through. Remove the chicken, and cook the glaze ingredients for a few minutes until it reduces to a thicker sauce. Place the chicken back in the glaze for few minutes, on low heat, and cook through. Add the vegetables back to the pot, and toss to coat with the glaze.
Serve with rice of your choice – we went with brown.
Afterthoughts
I made few mistakes with this one – I put the vegetables back in the pot with the chicken at the same time, not thinking about the time it would take to cook the chicken through, so they were softer than I liked. Of course, it then turned out that JuggerBaby likes zir vegetables unadulterated by such plebian things as sauces so they were roundly rejected.
Also, three small bone-in thighs just aren’t enough for our family, even supplemented with a huge pile of vegetables and brown rice, so next time I’d double the chicken but this makes plenty of sauce to go around even if I do that.
April 5, 2017
Skills
Dental hygiene
JuggerBaby has been very enthusiastic about the idea of brushing zir teeth, but zir execution leaves much to be desired. Typically toothbrushing goes something like this:
Mama, yeet? Bush yeet?
Ok, sure let’s brush teeth.
Mama, num num?
Yes, I put toothpaste on your brush already.
Mama, bush yeet!!
Yes, I’m going to brush mine too.
Then for the ten minutes, ze will lick all the toothpaste off zir brush, ask for more, go back to licking the brush when I say no, and then chew on the bristles while criticizing my technique. The bristles touch teeth maybe once, unless incidentally on the way to brushing zir tongue, or if I insisted on brushing them for zir. Of course the latter always starts a fight and ends in tears. Not my tears, though.
Sleep-FRICKIN-regressions
I didn’t know there were sleep regressions after Year One, especially one at 18 months and another at 2 years. At least I didn’t know until ze was nearly 25 months and then it punched us in the faces. Out of the clear blue sky, putting JuggerBaby to bed turned into a wailing, sobbing, desperate-to-keep-us-in-the-room MESS. For days, we tried to put zir to bed after the bath and 3 books routine, and every single day ze tried to monkey-parkour zir way out of the crib and catapult into our arms. Not because ze wanted cuddling, which is when ze is sick, or because ze needed food (ze sports a Buddha belly that could last a week on no food), but because ze didn’t want to be alone.
We tried leaving zir with Seamus. That was good for one night. We tried telling zir that we were right outside the door and that ze could call if ze needed us. That worked once.
Finally, we negotiated with the toddler-terrorist. Or rather, we caved. Each night, we would put zir to bed, and ze would say “Mama jeep? Dada jeep? Gigi jeep?” We were all to go to bed at the same time, in the same room. If we were good and quiet, ze would roll around like a mad cannoli for 20 or so minutes and pass out. If we bothered zir too much by talking or looking at work on our phones, it’d take over an hour. It got so bad that we were just all asleep by 9 pm for several days in a row. Nothing was getting done – our nights were effectively over by 6 pm.
After 3 weeks of being held hostage, I decide we were trying again. I told zir: “ok, we have to go clean up now, so you stay here and we’ll be right outside, the door is open if you need us.” This time, ze was open to it, saying “ok” and just asking for more massages before I left. I was cautiously optimistic, remember, this worked once before too and then 2 weeks of misery followed!
But it seemed to coincide with the pieces falling into place with toilet training. We had added 4 potty breaks to our nighttime routine: after dinner, after a shower, after reading, and one more time after being put to bed. Once ze was in this routine for a few days, it seemed that ze wasn’t quite as inclined to demand that we stay in the room and sleep with zir.
Clean up clean up! Everybody cleans up!
I adore daycare for teaching the kids a clean up song because it encourages them to comply when you ask them to help clear the table. Heck, JuggerBaby will start clearing the table when ze finished eating, even without being asked.
This can sometimes be inconvenient if you meant to eat it.
Toilet training
To be honest, I’d dreaded starting toilet training but so far, with PiC taking the lead on much of it, JuggerBaby has been pretty good at telling us when ze needs to pitstop. We have a 50-75% success rate, depending on the day and level of enthusiasm.
Super cling
This may be a phase related to not feeling well but where ze once hit the ground running and didn’t look back, daycare dropoff has become a series of persuasions, mostly to remove one tentacle-like limb off my leg, or the other. PiC has no better luck unless we’re both dropping off together, then ze dismisses him with an aggressive BYEBYE and keeps a possessive hand on my knee.
My working theory is that either ze doesn’t feel well or ze doesn’t like the chaos that reigns after a certain time when all fourteen kids are running amok. The one time ze ditched me readily was when no kids had arrived yet, ze happily linked up to the teacher and literally didn’t look back.
Things we bought
This is the kiddy version of washi tape which I won’t allow JuggerBaby to get into. (My precious washi tape!)
Daycare lets kids take a roll of painter’s tape and stick it on the walls, windows, and fences, and this is definitely something JuggerBaby now wants to do at home.
:: Did you ever have separation anxiety as a kid? Or an unnatural addiction to office and stationery supplies?
April 3, 2017
(With thanks to Ms. Steward for putting into words the title of this post I’ve been ruminating on.)
We’ve been talking about happiness a lot in this area of the interwebs.
Recently, Mrs. BITA discussed happiness portfolios which I LOVE. I assiduously tend mine, nurturing the connections to my loved ones every bit as much as I do our investment portfolio.
Much as I desperately want to, I can’t control everything, or pretend that happiness is an easily attained Zen state.
I can’t wish away pain, I can’t just decide not to be first trimester pregnancy-level tired.
I can choose other things, though. I can choose to support friends and chosen family during tough times, to celebrate with them during good times. Life can be a collection of these shared moments.
Then, Ms. Steward talked about the connection we make between our income and our self worth.
For me, coming from survival economics, it’s been a journey from needing money above all else, to knowing that it plays a critical role in our lives, but money is only one of many components of comfort and happiness. It’s natural that my self worth is linked to my income and net worth. There aren’t many tangible ways to measure success and money is one of them, naturally, because that’s usually how you see it celebrated when you achieve successes at work. If you do really well for yourself, typically, you can make a case for yourself to earn more money, because you’re worth more. That was the cornerstone on which I built my career. The mentality fed my fire to over-achieve, to build success on success.
That has evolved, though. Two Christmases ago, I reflected on our contentment. It was almost puzzling to realize that I truly was content. It didn’t seem possible, but here we are, two years later and I still am content.
Obviously that doesn’t mean life is perfect. It gets bumpy when you negotiate conflicting, deeply-ingrained beliefs, it stays bumpy when I still have tension over what my next career steps will be.
Thankfully, we learned the art of compromise and that gives us the flexibility to let go of a stressor, step back, and reassess, or to know that our partner will help us if we need a hand. That’s not something we could buy. It was a knowledge earned after putting in the hours into our relationship, developing trust in the scorched earth of my heart, by showing up, repeatedly, reliably, over and over, day after day. I could have bought a whole lot of therapy, I could have made PiC try to buy his way in, but we took the harder, more austere route – the one without easy credit card swipes, but much more meaning.
Don’t get me wrong, a surprise flower and donut will always put a smile on my face. The gift of actual gifts is not to be scorned! Hanging from a hook on the necklace holder he picked and put up for me is a deeply cherished sterling silver necklace from an early anniversary. They both mean a lot to me.
But as Maggie discussed, I don’t look outside myself for validation, to form the basis for my joy. Not anymore. My acts of service are rooted in what I expect of myself, though they be for others. My sense of achievement draws from my professional and personal accomplishments, but it’s no longer rooted in the salary I draw.
Penny touched on how difficult it is to move away from that mentality, and I won’t lie – it was the work of many years, and years of solid earning – to make it.
Sometimes it puts me in a hard place. If I can only feel fulfillment, that savory-sweet new fulfillment, when I do something that I consider worthwhile, it can be a long dry spell between flashes. External fulfillment is a much quicker fix. Swiping my card for a beautiful sweater on sale gives me something tangible to hold and enjoy. It ticks the same pleasure center in my brain that achieving a desired goal does. It shouldn’t, but it does, and I know it does. So once in a while, once in a long while, I take that shortcut.
I save rigorously so that I can afford it but that’s a zero-sum game and I know that fact even better. Spending isn’t the answer. It can be once in a while, and it’s no sin, but it’s a cheap mini Snickers compared to the decadent luxurious chocolate mousse of closing a long project successfully. No sweater will beat that sense of satisfaction of saving thousands by refinancing. It’ll tide me over but it doesn’t fill my well.
Right now, in general big picture terms, life is pretty good. Zoom in a little closer and there are a lot of empty spaces to be filled in, question marks to be replaced with answers, and it’s incredibly uncomfortable when everything is in flux, but they’re not in a dire state.
My life pie chart is best when balanced between my family, working productively, and nurturing friendships.
I draw joy, grow happiness, and achieve fulfillment by working to earn money, enjoying my family, nurturing friendships that I’ve built over the past two decades. I deepen the strength of our family and our relationships and that pays back dividends in love and support.
And here’s the other side of my happiness truth: happiness isn’t solely a personal choice.
It can be an attitude but unlike some, I have not yet reached the state of nirvana. My happiness can be impacted by the actions of others that increase or decrease demands on me. With chronic pain dogging me, it’s impacted by how my pain fluctuates, daily, hourly. It’s impacted by whether my contributions to the pie are matched by those I engage with or if it’s just all me doing the heavy lifting for a while.
It’s important to recognize that in this, just like most things in life, we only have so much control over. Without that acceptance, or acknowledgement of what can unbalance our happiness, how can we hope to rebalance it?
:: How do you seek long term happiness? What brings a smile to your face on a gloomy day?
*Part of Financially Savvy Saturdays on brokeGIRLrich.*
March 29, 2017
The past three months haven’t been exactly rife with fun and jollity, between spending January in and out of court, February dealing with meetings and paperwork, and March, well, March has been more paperwork. But we still had a few bits of downtime. More and more, I see the importance of having some fun to balance out all the work, not just collapsing when I run out of steam and calling it a day.
My prescription for a more fulfilled life: more belly rubs for Seamus, more ticklewars with JuggerBaby, more reading time, more relaxing with PiC. This is some of it.
What I watched
City in the Sky: Airbus 380
Everything I didn’t necessarily want to know about airports and the building of the Airbus. Flying was a bit of a mystery to me, and not having had anxiety about the mechanics about it, I was satisfied to leave it that way for the nonce.
But we couldn’t get PBS to cough up any of the Masterpiece shows we wanted to see, not without paying a premium, and so PiC got to pick his free show instead.
It was actually a good documentary. I just didn’t necessarily want to know that a single misplaced rivet could mean a plane is torn apart mid-flight. I wasn’t worried but NOW I am! (more…)
March 27, 2017
I was an Honors and AP student in high school. I passed enough AP credits to skip half my freshman year of college, at $75 a pop, and it might have been more except my college only took several credits. On the old style SATs, I scored something like 1450. 1540? 1450? I can’t remember now but back then, academics were kind of Important.
My great shame that I’d hidden forevermore, until today, was that I failed at something. It wasn’t just a little thing, like a midterm or a final, either. Though in retrospect, calling a midterm or final something little says quite a lot about how far I’ve come since those testing days.
I did so poorly in my Honors math class sophomore year, failing week after week to grasp the materials at the pace that others were absorbing it, that I dropped out of the Honors track for math. Correction: I was dropped. That wasn’t my choice, though it would have been the wisest thing I did had I made the choice.
Miraculously, the world never stopped turning. This was in part because I hid it from my parents. This is the biggest secret I’d kept from them up until after college when I hid the extent of my illness from them – I hid my report cards and let them think that everything was fine at school. This worked because they trusted me, my sibling was a far greater worry to them so they assumed they could continue to trust me, and I didn’t flip out and overcompensate.
I failed. That royally sucked. It was humiliating to slink back into a lower track math class. And if you believe all the teen-pop movies, that’s the worst thing in the world. It felt like it, anyway.
Then I remembered that I had friends in those classes too and no one thought less of them. Absolutely no one cared if I wasn’t competing with them for the number one slot at the top of our graduating class.
This is where lack of constant parental pressure was key – I don’t know how I’d have reacted if my parents were pressuring me and judging me for not excelling. There have been times when I wished that they had, but by and large I’m almost certain that the fact they didn’t only helped me grow my own intrinsic motivation.
The lesson I took away at first was that there was safety in mediocrity. And that wasn’t completely wrong. But the important lessons were: there are always people smarter than you, working harder isn’t always the answer, and most failure won’t kill you unless you let it.
I could have started drinking and doing drugs to mask the pain. Apparently the latter was readily available at our school though I learned much too late for it to do any good! Some overachievers of my acquaintance took failure that badly, flunking out and quitting college entirely because they had no idea how to deal with failure. Instead, I dusted myself off and got back to work. I didn’t have to mask the pain, I could let go of it.
No one said a thing. It probably helped that they all knew I’d make mincemeat of them if they mocked me but I’m sure it had a lot more to do with people being people: people pay far less attention to you than you think they do. I didn’t lose any friends over this stumble. My friends were academically gifted, naturally smart, and just not that shallow.
Looking back, now, I’m grateful that I failed in exactly that way.
I made mistakes that couldn’t be denied, suffered consequences, accepted the consequences, and worked my way to graduation without further mishap. That my parents didn’t get involved was likely a good thing, their reaction wasn’t predictable since my failure would have been considered a betrayal of their trust on so many levels. But their lack of involvement helped me learn how to navigate a failure long before it did true harm. I didn’t have Ivy League aspirations or it would have much more devastating, but since a state school of one kind or another was what we could afford, the blow was a glancing one at best.
In real life, this ability to recognize and rectify failure, and to work hard even if I didn’t have the raw or native talent, served me incredibly well. I might have done well at a tougher college, but I doubt it. At a certain point, my academic smarts plateaued and my life smarts improved exponentially. There’s still a step or three between me and that CEO title, but I’m not just dreaming airy castles in the sky when I consider the possibility of starting my own business.
:: What have you learned from flaming out? What’s your most memorable failure?
March 22, 2017
Parents typically gush that having babies is a life-changer. They’re not wrong, but it’s a toss-up whether they mean in a good way or a bad way. Might depend on the day(s) they’ve had.
Two years on, I’m still happy that we made the choice to try for our kidlet and confirm that it’s transformed our lives in many unpredictable ways, and a few predictable ways though I wouldn’t have admitted it was possible years ago.
Clothing
I’ve frumped around, making do with my existing closet minus a few pieces of generously gifted maternity clothes, since getting pregnant in 2014.
This isn’t out of the norm for me. I tend to stick to the tried-and-true even when it stops working, sartorially, so it’s a self improvement project to do better at this. It doesn’t mean cycle through the latest trends with every season, nor become a wasteful consumer. Never that. Just making an effort to form a more classic and therefore all seasons wardrobe, as an adult might do.
The past 6 months, I started adding some essentials: 2 pairs of flats, replacing 3 pairs that have worn out or hurt my feet, 2 tops, and PiC replaced a couple pairs of trousers that were too dreadful.
I’ve focused on removing things first. After that, I’ll hunt down some basics that will work for my combo career and mom roles.
I look for high quality, now. I can stand the thought of spending more knowing that it will truly last me years of good wear. Of course, the same can be said for that handful of shirts bought cheaply 15 years ago that just won’t die. I can’t just toss clothes that still have wear in them, but they’re so old and don’t quite fit right anymore!
Social life
Never a partier before, I’ve morphed into even more of a homebody since JuggerBaby. It’s a lot of energy conservation and a little bit of disinterest. I’d LIKE to go out for a show or a spontaneous overnight trip sometimes, but it’s never appealing enough to try and find a sitter, or prep another meal in advance. I’m too easily entertained at home, and much more easily tired out by week’s end.
Some of this shift had already started between aging and with dog ownership. With a senior dog, you can’t just take off spontaneously if you don’t have reliable friends or family you regularly trade favors with. Back in the SoCal days, I could. My family could feed and walk the dogs if I took off to NYC for a week, but here it’d be boarding Seamus for $400 plus prepping all his food and his medications. Life was simpler in my 20s, though certainly poorer.
We have become friends with the parents of JuggerBaby’s bestie, though, and that was a nice surprise. My parents were never friends with the parents of my friends, and we only spent time with family during holidays and weekends, so this is new to me but it’s a good way to build a new network of support when all our family lives hundreds of miles away.
When pregnant, I refused to make friends with other moms solely because we were gravid together on the grounds that I didn’t want to, but also because I wasn’t prepared to invest time and energy into caring for a relationship that didn’t have staying power. I need to observe a person around their family and friends, and see how they care for them, to see what kind of person they are.
Eating habits
We trend towards healthy eating but I continue to have my vices, in small doses. I demolished PiC’s bag of Micro Snickers today, and every couple of weeks we get a box of delicious buttered, sugared pastries that I have to force myself to share. Chocolate lasts much longer in our fridge than it used to, though. This is clear evidence that I’m simply nowhere near the stress levels I used to marinate in.
Time Management
This has to be the biggest change of all. Before JuggerBaby arrived, I was pretty convinced that we could stay homebodies and introverts, even with kids. WRONG.
Our weekends are now centered around keeping JuggerBaby busy, for survival. Ze has ten times our energy so we have to keep the kid running. We take zir grocery shopping, to the park, to the errands that ze can help us with. Adult-only things like medical appointments or work are done during the last remaining afternoon nap. PiC always feels awful about ditching me for the gym when ze is awake, even when I say it’s totally ok, so any work I have to do, and any working out he wants to do, has to happen during zir nap.
I do miss the two-nap schedule sometimes.
With the two-nap schedule, I could have a nap and get work done, one per nap.
Overall
Even with a toddler on the rampage trying to eat the dog’s treats, and a senior dog with periodic health surprises, my life is more pleasant and rage-free than twelve years ago. Surprise! I have found some Zen.
:: Did you grow up in a children- or family-centric community? Did your parents welcome the changes you wrought in their lives?
March 20, 2017
Everything is quite unsettled right now.
- We haven’t found any suitable place to make an offer on yet. And the possibly-apocryphal (but I doubt it) tale is that it’s taking upwards of ten offers to get one accepted.
- We are in selling limbo until we buy.
- I’ve got several moving pieces at work that needs 150% of me and my attention but as Dr. Temperance Brennan would point out – that’s not possible.
- One of those moving parts may shake out to be quite bad for me, potentially ruining a big and expensive summer plan, and there’s absolutely nothing I can ethically do to affect the result. I’ve briefly considered the non-ethical options but nooo. I can’t be that person.
It’s a little weird that the not moving part of life bothers me so much, considering I quite like our home right now, and we’re only moving under duress. It’s less weird when you consider that I’m both a Type A personality (very little of the home buying process is under my control), and that I’m a homebody, so feeling like my home is going to shift at some random unknown point in time is incredibly unsettling.
All this adds up to a pit in my stomach the size of a watermelon.
I’ve gone from stress-cleaning to stress-cooking to stress-feeling frazzled and frozen. Back to stress cleaning this week, if I can muster the energy.
One of the benefits of stress-cleaning is that you go deep. And deep de-cluttering turns up gems. Like the discovery that your comic collection is pushing 100 lbs. Or a huge pile of cash.
(Except it’s not huge, and it’s not American dollars but other than that…BOUNTY!)
- Singaporean dollars, and I don’t remember when I was ever in Singapore.
- Hong Kong dollars, I do remember when I was there (briefly).
- A small handful of Thai Baht. Boy do I ever miss authentic Thai food.
- Some Taiwan dollars, when did I lay over in Formosa?
- Way too many expensive GBP, obtained at the worst possible exchange rate – go me.
- An absurd number of Canadian dollars considering I haven’t been there in at least a decade.
I’m working on finding my Zen again. The discomfort of needing to move shouldn’t overshadow the comfort of loving the home we are in right now, especially since there’s so much about it we do love.
There’s nothing I can do to change that possible-summer-ruiner but I can work on mitigating the ruination.
There’s very little I can do about the fact that my pain is at an all time high this week except take medication earlier and make the most of the few minutes’ break when JuggerBaby has a nap.
Ultra high pain also means that depression is nibbling around the edges of my brain again. I can’t just ignore it, but I can’t tell it to go away again. I can try to only see the good in front of me, or focus on what I need to do, and most optimistically, try to fit in a massage this week. It’s been put off because of this darn congestion. There’s nothing less relaxing than being hyper aware of your mucosal state while trying not to gross out your massage therapist.
If 300% of Vitamin C a day doesn’t do the trick this week, I welcome other cold-busting suggestions!
UPDATE: That bad work thing? It’s happening. And the effects won’t be in the summer, it’ll be now through summer, and walloping my personal calendar something fierce.
:: Where in the world have you gone? How do you deal with uncertainty or the unknown?
