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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October 16, 2015
Inchworm is officially mobile. Something clicked one day and ze went from struggling planted in one place, or wiggling backwards, to crawling forward in the most awkward foot-planting fashion. It’s clear that with every creep forward, ze is just preparing to stand up and walk. Often I’ll catch hir on all fours, hands and feet, butt in the air as ze tries to figure out how to get the front half in the air but fails. Not much complaining about this anymore – ze is too busy concentrating.
***
Ze figured out self directed play if I’m just sitting nearby. Ze is even better at it if I’m walking around and not watching over hir. But there’s always a risk that ze will finish with all hir toys and head for Seamus or his toys. He won’t bother hir, even when ze is trying to lick him, but I don’t want him to feel tormented.
***
At some point, LB quit spitting up / drinking too much too fast. A little bit before ze learned to roll over, and hold hir own bottle, ze quit needing to be burped. We just honestly forgot because ze would wiggle away to do something and then noticed ze was rolling out the burps all on hir own. Excellent! The drool continues unabated, though, and still, no teeth. I’m enjoying the gummy grins though, so I’m in no hurry. Also, as I might have mentioned before, ze BITES. And holy hell does that hurt. I have a bruise on my arm from hir chewing.
***
When LB was just a speck, I assumed that I wouldn’t want to share my living AND working space with a Tiny Tyrant. It’s really weird to realize that I am quite enjoying it right now. Ze is a lot of work, but is at a semi-ideal stage right now where I can drop hir in a play area, leave hir to get into things, and redirect hir as needed. Ze explores anything and everything, tasting everything: Seamus, our shoes, electrical cords, our toes, carpet, rugs, drawstrings. You name it, ze wants to chew on it.
Note: Seamus is not a fan.
***
What’s the difference between a puppy and this baby? A puppy has dander and this baby has opposable thumbs with which to pick up electric cords for chewing.
***
Unfortunately for us, LB’s mobility is not matched by hir language skills. Meaning “no!” and “no that’s dangerous” or “no that’s not for eating” or “no that’s not for you” are just amusing mouth noises we make. Meanwhile, Seamus jumps with every “no!” like he’s in trouble.
***
SOMEbaby thanks it’s hilarious to chipmunk cheek hir food. We were doing our usual sharing at dinner and ze just kept cheeking hir veggies. Ze likes them, normally, but I guess learning to hide your food in your mouth is an essential baby skill? After a visual check AND a finger sweep, ze spit hir greens at me with a cackle.
***
Ze caught a cold. Infant colds, from this experience, consists of 2 parts “aww you’re pitifully cute”, 3 parts “aww you’re just pitiful” and 95 parts “Ew snot bubbles!”
Our weapons of choice: infant Tylenol, nasal spray and the Snotsucker. That name, by the way, should have tipped me off to what it was but no, I just refused to use it. PiC did, and it helped a bit, but if you’ve ever wondered how an infant would react to waterboarding, we know.
P.S. There’s something very wrong with my child, ze loves the fake grape taste of the Tylenol. Gross.
***
For a little while, I had the timing on naps figured out and it was amazing. Then it changed again, and ze would do that terribly miserable scrunched up You Traitor face wail when put in the crib. I started handing hir a toy and walking away. Sometimes ze would just cry til ze slept. Other times ze would get up, play for a long grumbling while, then pass out mid play. As long as sleep happens, I don’t much care how we get there any more.
***
Cruising a Carter’s sale for a few things that ze didn’t get from the hand me down bag, I learned what crib shoes are. We were given some but I didn’t know what to do with them since shoes for a not-walking kid doesn’t make a lot of sense.
Shoes on an almost walking kid, though? As entertaining as putting shoes on a cat.
LB tweets
Doing my very best (but still terrible) whale sounds impressions for a wiggly grouchy LB’s entertainment.
Earlier…
Month 7: Ambulation
Month 6: Becoming human
Month 5: Toes
Month 4: Velociraptor Claws
Month 3: Growth Spurts
Month 2: Hates sleep
Month 1: Banshee
October 12, 2015
LB and I have been playing with Legos lately. (Truth? PiC and I have been playing with Legos a lot while LB gnaws on them, contemplatively.)
I connect a few, ze takes them for a taste test, pulls them apart, ponders the meaning of color.
While ze debates the delectability of yellow squares versus blue rectangles, I find myself aimlessly connecting more Legos. Invariably, I connect several larger rectangles using a variety of smaller pieces to make a platform and then build walls up.
I’ve never watched other people play with Legos but dollars to donuts they don’t always build a flat foundation first and a standard four walls before unleashing creativity. There’s simply no other way, though, not if I’m letting my subconscious lead the way. Nature or nurture questions aside, this is how I’m built to build. A firm foundation and then slowly build walls and a roof for protection.
Now that we’ve reached a particular level of stability, where I’m not viscerally worried that a missed paycheck or three would set us scrambling, my subconscious is now casting about for the next thing that comes after the walls.
What’s next?
What steps do I take to start building the next, perhaps final, stage of our life? Where do I go from here?
This could be the start of the renaissance of my life. I spent 15 years climbing out of and barricading ourselves against poverty. When I take a good look around, I realize that we can afford to take some risks now. Typically the time to take risks was a decade ago, in my 20s, but I couldn’t. Now, with a brand new child and aging parents on both sides, it would seem that now isn’t the time to take risks either. But! We have good savings, a variety of investments, and for now, we’re in relatively decent health. (Well. PiC is. We have good health insurance anyway.)
I don’t want to forever take and make the safe paved roads. I want that luxury of knowing when my next payday is, sure, but that desire is cohabiting with the need to grow and challenge myself.
I, no, WE can afford risk now. Some risks. I can’t afford to ignore the spark that pushes me to try. Dendrites die when you don’t use them. Motivation gutters when ignored too long, like a fire deprived of oxygen. I’ve long considered myself an intrinsically powered person, driven by circumstances. This period is, perhaps for the first time in my life, an opportunity to try for something purely because I want to and because I want it. Whatever it is. This is a real luxury that many of us enjoy in America / in a first world nation, should we be lucky enough to be born with a few resources and have both the awareness and ability to choose to partake of it.
October 7, 2015
We’ve been reading a lot of Dr. Seuss lately. More accurately, I’ve been reading, LB just cruises by and checks out the illustrations sometimes. Believe it or not, this is the first time I’ve read Oh, the places you’ll go in its entirety. It’s actually pretty good!
I like that the optimism and enthusiasm is tempered with nods to reality: that sometimes you’ll be alone, sometimes you’ll hit a rough spot. And other times, you’ll steer into….
The Waiting Place…
…for people just waiting.
Waiting for a train to go
or a bus to come, or a plane to go
or the mail to come, or the rain to go
or the phone to ring, or the snow to snow
or the waiting around for a Yes or No
or waiting for their hair to grow.
Everyone is just waiting.
Waiting for the fish to bite
or waiting for the wind to fly a kite
or waiting around for Friday night
or waiting, perhaps, for their Uncle Jake
or a pot to boil, or a Better Break
or a string of pearls, or a pair of pants
or a wig with curls, or Another Chance.
Everyone is just waiting.
Oh, the places you’ll go!
Clearly, waiting isn’t high on Dr. Seuss’s list, not the way he puts it, but every so often, patience is a virtue.
I’m waiting on … little things
- UPS to deliver replacement electronics. All my devices are trying to die on me.
- UPS to deliver Seamus’s medication.
- United miles to post to our account.
Bigger things
- Perhaps a bit nervously, my interview for Jessica’s podcast goes up in October.
- For the next round of inspiration on my writing project. You can’t always force the writing. When I do, I end up with a thousand words of drivel. It’s not a pretty sight.
- 2016 travel plans are taking shape. Quite a few things are already lined up next year and we’ve got several itineraries started in TripIt.
- For my work across multiple projects to bear fruit. For free moments to squeeze in work on those projects.
- A lot of people I care about are having a hard time right now, in all aspects of life, and I’m doing my darnedest to support them, online or off. I am hoping that their efforts bear fruit.
What are y’all waiting for these days? Are you having trouble living in the moment as you wait or do you feel balanced?
October 5, 2015
So how did I do with my Q3 plans?
Professional:
Edit the writing project.
Nope. I still need to commit many many more words to paper before we get to an editing stage, so this project is about six months behind thanks to my other project. (Just kidding … mostly)
Ask a mentor or two to critique it.
Yes, I thought that actually asking someone to have a look at it would force me to write. It doesn’t always work that way.
Blog at least 3x/week.
Yep!
Personal:
Vacation in San Diego.
Sort of! We did do a trip, anyway.
Host a good friend for a week.
Yes! We actually had more than one friend spend time with us and it was glorious.
Keep walking 5 of 7 days per week.
Yes! It wasn’t always a long walk but I’ve gotten myself out and about frequently enough to feel like I’m getting a little wind in my sails.
How are you doing?
October 2, 2015
Change from Jan 2015: 15.2% increase
0.5% decrease from last month
ON MONEY
I use Swagbucks. Here’s a handy tutorial if you’d like to join and earn.
Spending
Last we checked, I was dreading phone replacement. Dragged my feet, in fact, even though the phones were being outrageously non functional: turning off randomly, refusing to turn back on, “the camera is not connected” messages. Neither of us wanted phablets, which is where all the newer smartphones today are headed, and we definitely didn’t want the $1000+ bill that comes with two new phones. But it seemed like the best we could do was a certified used phone for about 20% less and any used electronics from an unknown seller always makes me nervous.
During our intense research period, PiC was gifted a new to him used phone, and that was a huge relief. I bought him a new case and charging cords, he did SIM card surgery, and he’s set! I deleted a bunch of apps and data from my phone and that’s helped a little bit so that I don’t have to rush out and replace it with something expensive. We were looking at the Samsung Galaxy 6 but it’s huge and so’s the price tag.
*keeps phone on life support*
*** (more…)
September 28, 2015
I made pantry dinner twice last week. A couple other nights saw us reheating leftovers, and then we had take out.
Our lives, post-baby, still revolve around dinner and what to have, and who’ll make it happen.
Things that have to happen before we can settle down and adult for the night: walk the dog(s), feed the dog(s), feed the Inchworm, play with the Inchworm, bathe the Inchworm, feed the Inchworm again, put the Inchworm to bed.
This is after a 12-14 hour day of working and Inchworm-related activities, so, at some point, it doesn’t really matter how we make dinner happen, just that it does happen. Sometimes I’m inspired and have enough short breaks to whip it up delightful oven miracles. Sometimes PiC gets home to an explosion of toys, an Angry Inchworm, épuisé wife, and that means he should magic something out of the pantry or the crisper.
We both work, and we both have to eat, and our schedules are topsy turvy most days. I’m pretty Type A and live by my calendar but these days I’m relaxed enough to count myself happy if we both get our work done in a reasonable time and we both get nourished.
Right in this instant, I’ve only ever been more tired a couple times in my life but I’ve never been this sure that this is the best life right now. I have my baby family, we’re both working and building our careers, and we both have to compromise to make it work.
I think it’s our healthy relationship barometer. When things aren’t going well, dinner is later and sketchier and more often eaten separately and standing up. When we’ve got our bits and pieces in the right bins, we have a bit of a warm potato pass off. I might have started a side or an entree cooking, leaving the finishing touches to PiC while I wrangle the kidlet, or I might have a one pot meal finishing up when he walks in the door so he gets to walk the kids. Other nights I have exactly two brain cells still keeping each other warm in the frosty cavern of a mind and he’ll arrive with a basket of Korean fried chicken to go with the cold rice I’d made lots of the day before.
Every day there’s a compromise. He takes the early morning shift (and weekends) so I can sleep. I sleep an extra hour or two so that I can take the all day shift. We split the evening duties because we’ve both worked long days and some things are easier with four hands and a knee.
In other words: symbiosis.
Frankly the only one who’s losing out on this equation at the moment is Seamus who is nursing hurt feelings over my pushing back my dining chair and accidentally running him over a little. I’m sorry!
Actually he’s having a bit of a rough time overall: he doesn’t get our undivided attention, LB likes him too much and therefore he comes in for a share of slobbery kiss attempts he’s not much into, and he’d like to play more. But all of these things would be, minus the slobber, wishful thinking even without LB because we have to be really careful of his skin.
It’s not doggy heaven but he gets fed enough and regularly, he has three beds and more warm places to rest his grizzled muzzle than he can use, he’s well loved, gets walks three times a day and sometimes we run into his fellow doggy the Titan and they have a mighty clash-romp.
Other compromises: I still do all our tax planning and financial stuff. I love it, and I’m a control freak. He does our auto maintenance: repairs, routine checks and gassing up. I do most of the laundry, he’s got the dishes and most of the sweeping and vacuuming. Travel planning: me. Grocery shopping: him. Electronics, purchasing and fixing: me. Clothing, picking out sporting goods, fun gear: him.
Nothing’s perfect, we have our little tiffs when one or the other is flat out of patience and exhausted but they’re rare. We’re getting better at saying: I’m so tired, can you do X for me please.
Like when he ran his first road race since LB came along. He does 99% of the morning duties. This time, he mentioned that he really needed a good sleep before he went out running, so at 5 am when ze was burbling away, I dragged myself up to take care of hir for a couple hours. He was immensely grateful and made sure I had some time to rest to make up for it later. We don’t keep score, per se, we’ve just been practicing listening a lot more.
Compromise! It’s our secret sauce.
September 25, 2015
Mrs. Crackin’ the Whip and I are in agreement. Shopping for certain things – bras, underwear, swimsuits and jeans – are a special kind of hell. In my case, shopping for anything I have to wear is hell.
My preferred shopping MO is pretty direct: Need a thing? Buy that thing, on sale, with a coupon. Leave.
And that’s when I was young and foolish, brimming full of can-do enthusiasm. These days, I’m not willing to waste even a single drop of energy, much less the full tank needed to go to the store. Oh how I wish I were like a gas tank that could be refilled with a swipe of the credit card. Fill up on Number Me, please, and a spare jug to go!
A normal day is full of getting up, working, taking care of Inchworm, working, more Inchworm, eating, cleaning, and oh yes, working. Who has juice left for the full expedition that is shopping? Not I, said the perpetually-exhausted-even-before-a-kid-working-mom.
Going out means getting dressed, packing up (with the kiddo) in that narrow time we have between naps, driving to a store, navigating the parking, getting ourselves into the store, picking out non-hideous things and then trying it on. Getting dressed wipes me out, then you want my precious brain cells to think about whether something fits? NOPE. Ain’t happening.
As much as being an entirely minimalist live off the land type sounds appealing in theory (kinda) (except I still want running water and indoor plumbing and The West Wing and a washer/dryer), that’s not even remotely likely so the Internet and the online shopping it makes possible is the best answer this millennium has coughed up in the fight against chronic pain and fatigue.
As a chronic slippery slope personality, I make it work for my budget, not against it:
- I am ruthless about returning anything that’s not perfect. “Just ok” is not good enough. There’s no room and no budget for mediocrity!
- Free shipping/returns do not influence my “this is reasonable price point”
- Never click Purchase immediately after filling my cart. Since it’s online, I don’t feel the pressure of Buy it or Get Out Of The Darn Store NOW. There is artificial pressure: “sale ends soon!” or “limited to items in stock!” but there’s always another sale and I never need anything so badly that it has to be THAT ONE RIGHT NOW. Uh, except for the one time.
- CASHBACK (Mr. Rebates), CASHBACK (ebates), CASHBACK (credit card rewards).
Secondhand (hi, Craigslist!) is amazing for almost everything but not for clothes since my size has only recently been more normal and even that’s rarely ever in-store so the only reason to leave the house to shop is the free food samples at Costco or Trader Joe’s. Just as well. I have a theory that the more I’m exposed to the crappier side of human nature between work and shopping malls, the more likely it is I’ll explode, messily, and without warning.
Honestly, my online shopping habit is saving lives here. You’re welcome.
What’s your poison? Can you shop at thrift stores and is it as amazing as I imagine it to be? (Vintage! Designer! Well constructed! All for $5.99!)