Workday

Something amazing happened yesterday. Something that hasn't happened in a long time. I woke up to an empty house! I was totally alone. Adam had taken Lily out on an errand, and I rolled out of bed, brushed my teeth, and realized that it was the first time in months I had been alone in the house. How I have missed being alone in the house!

I expect that it won't happen again any time soon, but I look forward to when it does.

We spent the rest of the day working. I prepared for next week's classes and Adam mowed the lawn at the new house. We bought a table and dresser from our neighbor who was having a yard sale, then took everything that was already packed from our previous move to the new place. It was quite a bit. When we returned, our cat emerged from behind the couch, looked around, and was noticeably confused. A bookcase and a dresser are both missing from the living room, and it was obvious that she didn't get it. Poor thing.

While we were moving things in, we met the neighbors across the street who had nothing but praises for the neighborhood. We were both pleased. In light of everything that's happened with our current neighbors, it was refreshing to hear that the new neighbors are quite neighborly.

(On a side note, the neighbors who sent us the letters and who prompted me to call the police are going to be evicted by their landlord because of all this. Apparently, the one neighbor receives a disability check from the government because she's got "a mental problem, but she doesn't". That's what the landlord told us. But I'm pretty sure she does. Have a mental problem, that is.)

In the meantime, I think Lily is starting to teethe. She's been gnawing on my fingers nonstop. She's also reduced her nap times by half in the last week, which makes me yearn for days when I had nothing to do but care for her. As much as I'm glad to be able to teach, it kills me to have my attention divided the way it is. It's actually much more difficult than I anticipated.

A Day in the Life of the Incredibly Exhausted

8:30 a.m. Wake up to Lily cooing. Last night was killer. I was up from 2:22 to sometime after 5. It's the second night in a row. I get up, change Lily, feed her, dress her.

8:50 a.m. Take a shower. Take note that we need new shampoo. Poke my head out to see Lily pounding on her Baby Einstein saucer.

9:30 a.m. Put whiny Lily down for a nap. Make coffee. Flip open computer.

10 a.m. Lily has screamed in her bed for a half hour. Pick her up and attempt to do work with her in my lap. Unsuccessful. We walk around the house and I read her a book.

10:30 a.m. Finally, the nap begins. I scramble around getting things ready for class. Print assignments. Make lists. Hope for a few spare minutes to reread the text before class.

11 a.m. Talk to Mom on the phone. Topics include postpartum issues, decorating, and varsity football.

12 noon Lily wakes from nap. Feed her and watch a bit of Scrubs.

12:20 p.m. Pack a lunch. Pack Lily's diaper bag. Look and look and look for her hat.

12:25 p.m. Find her hat.

12:45 p.m. Sit in the backyard and throw the ball for Penny. She could do this all day.

12:55 p.m. Put Lily and her stuff into the car. Drive to the Y to meet her babysitter.

1:30 p.m. Switch the carseat into the babysitter's car. Drive to the college.

2:15 p.m. Make copies. Check watch. Sigh.

2:30 p.m. First class. So tired. I try to learn students' names and answer questions. I feel like a basketcase.

3:45 p.m. Class is over. I run to the office, contemplate taking a nap, and shovel food down my throat.

3:55 p.m. Talk to Adam and wish he was home today.

4:30 p.m. Class, round two. I'm barely making it. Things don't go as planned. I wish I wasn't trying to replicate what happened in the first class, but I can't help myself. End class early. Sit in car listening to NPR.

5:45 p.m. Switch carseat back. Drive Lily home. She cries the entire time.

6:10 p.m. Change Lily and feed her. She falls asleep eating. I close my eyes too.

6:30 p.m. Wheel of Fortune. Put Lily to bed.

6:40 p.m. Check email. Make pasta. Wish someone would cook me dinner or pick me up something from Subway. Wish it was closer to bedtime.

7 p.m. Sit on the couch. Eat dinner. Stream The Office from Netflix. Try not to fantasize about going to bed. Try to stay up until 9.

Here We Go Again

It's official. We got our keys today. We are really (really!) moving. Today, after getting our keys, we packed the little girl (Lily) and the other little girl (Penny) and trekked to our new digs. The house is about two miles down the road, close enough that I've run down the street that runs beside it, but the neighborhood is infinitely better than where we currently reside. No bums knocking on doors, no one wandering around the neighborhood, and from what I hear from a friend, the neighbors are actually friendly.

Let me back up a minute, here, to Sunday when I had to call the cops on our next door neighbors. Sunday was lovely and the weather was perfect. Early in the afternoon, I set up a blanket in the back yard, and Lily and I laid on it while I read a magazine and Penny ran around. It was so nice that I decided I'd take Lily to the park and go for a jog. When I went out to the car to load the jogging stroller, I found a letter that had been thrown on our porch and the lattice that had been blocking Penny from getting under our house was broken into three pieces and thrown in the front yard. All while I was at home with Lily.

The thing is, we had gotten a letter like this before. It was the same week that we thought we were moving into the other house. Both letters were quite vulgar, accusing us of turning on their faucets and writing them a letter about Michael Donald (the last man to be lynched by the KKK), telling us that we're poor and should go to the Salvation Army to buy food, and that we shouldn't hang our clothes outside because the house we rent came with a washer and dryer. Um . . . what? (Also, the guy who owns the business across the street also got a similar letter that he didn't understand.)

The first letter we dismissed, mostly because we thought we were moving and weren't sure it was our neighbors. But this time I was sure. This letter talked particularly about how we said good morning to them the day before and that we should never talk to them again. Also, there was something about our dog slowly dying (like, um, how we're all slowly dying?) and that we have a half empty house (???). So, I called Adam, who was working Sunday, and then called the cops.

Long story short, the neighbors admitted everything and the cops told them if they do anything further, they won't hesitate to put them in jail. Awesome, huh? Thankfully, we had already put a deposit on this new place and, like I said, the neighborhood is much nicer. Hopefully, our neighbors won't be crazy and will at least be grown up enough to talk to us if there's a problem.

So, we were glad to get keys to the new place and glad to go over there and inspect every inch of it. We have a lot of cleaning to do since no one has lived there in three months, but it is certainly with joyful hearts. And we have to sell our dining room table because it won't fit -- a small price to pay.

But this is legit, not like last time. Our new landlord has an office job and wears a tie and suspenders every day. And my friend lived right next door to our new home when our landlord lived there, and she speaks very highly of him and the neighborhood. These are very good signs.

Life's A Blur

Thunderstormy Day

There's something to be said about a thunderstormy day. I always feel like it gives me permission to slack off, relax, and maybe spend the afternoon spread out on the couch with a book.

When I woke up this morning, the sunshine was waning and thunder was rolling in. It was all I could do to peel off my sweatpants and jump in the shower. But in spite of fighting a cold that has zapped every bit of energy from me since Tuesday, I figured sitting around like a bum in her sweatpants would hold some negative psychological cache. And that's not the example I want to set for Lily. She gets dressed every morning and, even when she's feeling crummy, Mommy does too.

The thunder boomed and the rain dropped its buckets outside my door, and I laid on the couch reading and watching sitcoms and feeling guilty that I wasn't spending "quality" time with Lily. I try to talk and sing and read to her as much as I can, but often she spends her awake time sitting in her bouncy seat or her Baby Einstein saucer reaching for things she can stick in her mouth. I try not to feel bad about it -- she's engaging with her environment and learning, even if I'm not paying much attention.

And, of course, there's her new trick: giggling. Hearing those little laughs was the bright spot in my week. And it made me so glad that I'm a mommy. Those little moments make everything else bearable -- being away from her while I work, still wishing my body would go back to normal, learning who I am now that another person is wholly dependent on me. She laughed! It was incredible.

In a small burst of energy today, when the clouds parted for a moment, we ventured out to the library to borrow a few board books. There are only so many times I can read Hop on Pop or Rainbow Fish or Goodnight Moon before I feel like my IQ is dropping, and I fear Lily's might too. The children's section of the library was the only part of the building I had yet to explore, and I was so pleased to find a rather large selection of books, even books for itty bitty ones. I flipped through a few board books, all with Lily on my hip gradually weighing more and more until I thought my arm would fall off, and picked out a few favorites.

The lady at the checkout counter asked if Lily was a boy or a girl. (She was wearing a nongirly green outfit so it was understandable, not like when I was at the doctor's office one day and she was wearing a little yellow flowered romper and I was asked if she was a boy or a girl. Umm?) After I answered, she asked how old Lily is and if I thought she could see things. You see, it was nearing naptime and Lily was engaged in what Adam and I call the thousand mile stare, where she doesn't focus on anything in particular and just stares. It's a sure sign that it's almost time to go to sleep. Suddenly, Lily's eyes focused on the lady and she smiled. There's nothing like a little gummy smile to make someone's day. I gathered up the books, said thank you, and took Lily home so we both could nap.

First You Laugh

I've been feeling under the weather all day. Then I started singing to Lily and this is what happened.



It's the best sound I've ever heard.

It Sucked and Then . . .

I think I have more books out from the library than should be allowed by law. And what do I do after I've stacked my books into neat piles? Buy a book that isn't available at the library and read it first.

I bought Heather Armstong's It Sucked and Then I Cried hoping to find comfort in the great abyss of motherhood I felt was swallowing me. The book is a memoir of Armstrong's pregnancy and first ten months of motherhood and her struggle with postpartum depression. I don't have postpartum depression, I'm sure of that, but I do have times when it feels like I'm trapped inside the vacuum cleaner and everything just sucks. These times often coincide with sleeplessness, something I have struggled with for years that reared its ugly head after Lily started sleeping for ten or more hours through the night. Sometimes I need someone to pat me on the shoulder and tell me it's okay and I'm not alone. And that's why I read this book, because I wanted it to pat me on the shoulder like an old friend.

But I didn't get the pat I was looking for. Armstrong didn't plunge into the depths of her despair so much as gloss over it: she cried a lot and spent four days in a mental hospital. The book, instead, is a series of anecdotes that range from sentimental to outright hilarious. I found myself with tears in my eyes one minute and laughing out loud the next. If you've ever read her blog, Dooce, you know what I mean. Though I'll admit that her writing style and over-the-top jokey-ness wore me down after a while.

If nothing else, Armstrong affirms that it's okay to admit that you need help and that things are more than you can deal with, whether you've just had a baby or not. Getting professional help in the form of therapy or medication is worth it to be a better version of yourself, one that can deal with life without having to throw full gallons of milk at your spouse's head. And I'd agree.

The picture she paints in It Sucked was a little uneven, though, and I think a lot was lost in the over-the-top-ness of her style. But I commend Armstrong, nonetheless, for being brave and candid and unashamed about what happened to her in the process of becoming a mother. I'm sure others have been and will be touched by her story.

Cultivating Creativity

It's kind of invigorating to wake up on a seemingly ordinary Friday morning and remember that it is the day my new Curator article goes up. It's even better when it's an article that I am exceptionally proud of, one that I'd consider making copies of and distributing to future employers or people I might bump into at Target.

This morning, I got online quickly before running to a workshop for composition teachers and saw that my essay on Elizabeth Gilbert's TED Talk on Creativity was published. In fact, today's edition of The Curator is rather inspiring and the other two articles certainly deserve your perusal.

Happy Friday and happy reading!

Moving Up the Tech Ladder

Today, Adam and I found ourselves in line at Best Buy to buy a computer. Since we ended up with a little extra money, and since he needs a better computer for writing papers and I need one for keeping up with my classes and writing articles, and since I bought our old computer the summer before graduate school six years ago, we went ahead and moved ourselves up the technology ladder a rung or two.

We didn't buy a Mac or anything -- we aren't that cool or rich -- but got a laptop with enough power and memory to supply all our immediate needs: store pictures and videos of Lily, process words we type, navigate the interwebs, and stream video from the internet without skipping a bazillion times.

There was a moment when at the store that we looked at each other with that are-we-doing-the-right-thing look, as we are not ones to throw our money around capriciously, but I'm fairly confident that the pros outweigh the cons. For instance, I worked on my syllabus in Microsoft Word 2007 (definitely a con and a mean and nasty trick on the part of Microsoft! The shame!) but was able to work at lightning speed, slipping easily onto the internet and back to my document without having to wait ten minutes for the computer to catch up.

I can't imagine how much of my life I've lost because of that old computer. It's being demoted to Adam's official Facebook poker computer and Quicken program holder (because we don't want to buy a new version). It was well loved, but it is certainly time to move on.

Meltdown

After a few days of trying to resist a major meltdown, I conceded. I came back from vacation stressed out about the impending changes of the fall semester, namely going back to work. It didn't help to know I wouldn't see my mom, stepdad, and brother until January (hopefully). So, I cried, worked on my syllabus, cried, streamlined my internet time, ran three miles, resisted more tears, and came up with a few good ideas.

I've just been putting an unbearable amount of pressure on myself. Navigating through motherhood, the transition from two to three, and knowing our families are so far away have taken a small toll. But other, deeper issues have come to the surface in my life, and I have a lot on my plate. I don't think I've had my feet on firm ground for quite some time. Maybe I need a therapist. Maybe I need a strong drink. Maybe I need lots and lots of prayer.

So I've been hiding out, trying to figure out how to organize my time, my life, and my home, and trying not to feel bad about how less-than-perfect everything is. And -- no kidding -- I bought Heather Armstrong's It Sucked and Then I Cried in an effort to assure myself that I'm not the only one who feels lost. It came today, and I'm planning to read it until I pass out tonight.

I do think that life is lovely and beautiful, but I think there's a time to address the ugly and overwhelming. Hopefully, there's growing to do here.

And so far, I've decided to take a giant step back from the internet, which seemed to virtually (pun intended) swallow me in the last week. I ditched my Google Reader and have limited my Facebook time significantly. It's helped, especially when I've been pouring my heart into my syllabus, trying to plan the next four months of my working life.

I also decided to start taking a conscious Sabbath once a week, something I haven't done since Lily was born. Adam and I are going to pick one day a week when we'll both be home and just do nothing. I know it will help replenish my spirit and make me feel like less of a crazy person.

And I think I'm going to strive to be a little more honest. I feel compelled to only show the best-parts version of myself, but what I really want is to hear that I'm not the only one who's struggling.

What I Loved on My Summer Vacation