In the spirit of full disclosure, this post is eventually going to end up talking about the sweetest pair of finches (warning). But first (with a lot of capitalization because all of the feels right now)...
Can we just talk about the whiplash (of course)? Also, I haven't blow dried my hair for around 3 weeks now and probs don't have to for another 15. It's quite a weird feeling walking out of your job on March 13 and then find out later that you won't be back until the end of July. Perhaps this is something like what going into labor early feels like.
Let us not fall too far into the words before we pause for a moment of silence that the library is closed for at least another 2 weeks. How does one prepare for this catastrophe? We hoarded and stockpiled a solid 2-3 weeks worth of reading material and now we're either a) going to go rogue or b) blow the budget on supporting independent bookstores. Actually, it's really more of c) a little bit of both A & B.
For those of you who have wondered through my house and have gazed upon our bookshelves and thought to yourself "Why in the world does this erudite lit-ite person have oh, so many John Grisham books?" For such a time as this, folks. For such a time as this.
(I've been stockpiling these books for about 2 decades AND IT'S ALL PAYING OFF. Also, I read a 400+ Grisham thriller in 2 days. That's crazy fast for me. Meanwhile, today I have struggled to keep my attention on 60 pages of Alice Walker. Sometimes Walker speaks words of truth and I will carry on to the end of this one, but sometimes life demands all of the Grisham because ESCAPISM IS OKAY.)
My child "has no books to read" even though I'm looking side eyed right now at about 8 that we snagged from the library the very day before it went under for the season. My child. She has some ability to be exclusive about some books and then decides other perfectly lovely books fall under the category of "I want to read these, but I really want you to read them to me." Positive: YES, PLEASE. I love reading out loud to them still. Negative: My child is at times bouncing around the house like a listless pinball at times.
BOOKS & CARBS. That is what we are collectively running on for hours at a time throughout our days. But the sun and the springtime have also been poking us hard in the ribs time and again these past few weeks and we laugh out loud and shout "You got us again today, sun & springtime!" When, oh when have the sun and the springtime been more definitively needed and outright worshiped? We have filled our lungs with crisp, sunny air. We have been cataloguing the burgeoning leaves with pictures on the phone so that we can flip through them quickly and watch the leaves emerge. We have been glorying in the daffodils that always seem to surprise us in the various clusters around the house. We have been playing game after game after game of monkey-in-the-middle because when we live on a cul-de-sac and there is only one other house with young children in our vicinity, we basically get the run of the place. And to this, we shout AMEN.
I have also wondered a half dozen or so times now why, oh why in the name of all that is good and right in this world do people enjoy running outside? There are hills. There is wind. There is sticky humidity at times. What genetic malformation do I have that I prefer a treadmill please and thank you and please turn on the HGTV so that I can forget that I'm running between commercials?
Then The Boy ran with me today in so far as we shuffled along at his slow rate because he is sloooow right now. It's not like I'm fast, but I quickly realized that this would not be one of those times where I huff "I'm about to die" as he defaults to coach mode. (This has happened.) But this was one of those blessed afternoons where time slipped by and it was so nice just to chat (which you can do if you're running at a pace where even the neighborhood dachshunds were gaining on us). Truth be told, this was the first time since The Elder was born that we went out for a jog through the neighborhood together because we've never felt capable of leaving the girls behind for 30 or 40 minutes. But they were busy and The Elder has been staying home all school year for varying lengths of time by herself and today was the day. We tested the waters a week ago with a 15-minute walk around the neighborhood. Today started as a 2-mile run that ended up being almost 5 for me. The Boy maxed out at 3 and beat me home. And then my children locked me out of the house because they're funny.
Also, do you know what quanrantining does to a family? It causes the mother to insist on taking everyone out for ice cream (curbside service, folks) followed by sitting in the car in a sunny parking lot while The Younger nibbling ever so slowly on her 1 scoop and The Elder criticizing the same benevolent mother's choice of wearing the-perfect-quarantine-daily-outfits-ever. I have finally culled my wardrobe to a handful of perfect t-shirts, perfect running (and all-day) leggings, and the perfect hits-in-all-the-right-places-while-also-being-the-perfect-length sweater. The Elder thinks I look ridiculous apparently. I'm just gathering pictoral evidence on her daily attire so that way we can revisit this conversation in 5-ish years. I'm patient.
And so there you are: a bunch of whiplash. Much like this bunch of sentences, we're all over the place of late. But the girls have never been better friends, the sun has never seemed sunnier, and we have a pair of darling finches building a nest in a tall pine tree shrubbery thing outside windows that I look out a lot of late. I don't love the shurbbery, but it's ideal for nesting bird-o-s, like the fab pair of cardinals who hatched a sweet little chickie last summer. I have never studied the finches much before, but they're hard to miss as they bring back bits of nesting material (while Papa Finch keeps guard way up on the tippy-top of the shrubby thing) and since they hang out a lot in my very favorite tree. Just hanging out. As we all are. Yet they are adorable.
I, however, brought 24 mini croissants, 2 loaves of sourdough bread, and 1 bag of enormous soft pretzels into this house today. I am not adorable (ask The Elder). I am carb loading. And I am carb loading while chasing patches of sunshine around the house while clutching book candy to me. This may very well be what life is meant to be right now.
Sunday, April 5, 2020
Monday, February 24, 2020
Guys. It's been a month.
News: Guys. It's been a month.
Better news: Guys. It's OK.
Yesterday, we enjoyed breakfast church with our burgeoning ELCA congregation. It basically includes ALL SORTS of breakfasty goodies (i.e. loads of delish carbs) and conversation in small communities sprinkled about the space. There's a Gospel reading for us to share in community, the wine & bread to pass in community, and time to share highs & lows with people who are fundamental in grounding us for another week.
Lemme say again: Guys. It's been a month. A challenging one at times -- nothing extraordinary or shocking. Just plenty of opportunity for wallowing and time in the pit.
In short(ish), my last living grandparent died, though not unexpectedly, at the beginning of the month and there has been some ensuing hurt and such. On the same day that The Boy's cousin (of whom he was not particularly close) also chose to end his life. This cousin's brother did the same in early December. That family unit is hurting right now. Each of my brothers have had a child suffering from a bout with pneumonia in the past week on top of the general pink eye/colds/sinus infection germs that are plaguing their houses. My brother's beloved 3-year dog is struggling against a disease that is life threatening, and while it's a pet, there's still a hurt there. The Boy is slowly crawling out from his own week of persistent hacking and discomfort. The days have been incredibly February-ish: dark, dull, and dreary.
Yet as the highs and lows were being shared around the community table at church and before my turn came, I mentally prepared my own subsequent answers and realized I had several highs to choose from. An abundance. Unfairly.
1. We had a short week of school, and at this time of year, that's a blessing.
2. I had finished a couple of books lately, and since they were decent / good ones, that feels like a smushy richness of time.
3. I snagged one of the foster babies in our community congregation. She's 4-months but shaped like a 2-month old. She has the best eye lashes, and she was deliciously squishy and snuggly. I got to give her a bottle and gently noodge her back to sleep. That is pretty bliss-y.
4. There was sun, and loads of it. That is enough on many a day. This is the week's high that I choose to share (which was summarily met with hearty head nods and "Ooooh, yes!" by other members of my community table).
Just the day before, I needed to make a trip that was a bit of a drive and took me through a 90-mile chunk of rural Indiana. While I don't mind driving with a purpose, I'm not much for enjoying a drive through barren fields without a purpose, but hand me some good podcasts or an audio book, a plan, and a quiet, sunny morning, and I'm all in. Along the way, I found a field of windmills (expected -- I've driven by this often), a 1.3 mile stretch of state highway with bumper to bumper pick-up trucks on both sides of the road for a Saturday morning auction (unexpected -- this isn't usually my jam and I can't say that I've ever been to one of these or have ever driven by one), and a boy in the yard beside a farmhouse systematically whacking a tree with a long stick (quasi-expected -- what else might one do with one's time on a sunny, warm enough February morning in rural-ville?).
So for a month which had plenty of moments where I too could happily whack a tree with a long stick, I'm still going to choose the sunshine. My word but that sunshine felt great.
Better news: Guys. It's OK.
Yesterday, we enjoyed breakfast church with our burgeoning ELCA congregation. It basically includes ALL SORTS of breakfasty goodies (i.e. loads of delish carbs) and conversation in small communities sprinkled about the space. There's a Gospel reading for us to share in community, the wine & bread to pass in community, and time to share highs & lows with people who are fundamental in grounding us for another week.
Lemme say again: Guys. It's been a month. A challenging one at times -- nothing extraordinary or shocking. Just plenty of opportunity for wallowing and time in the pit.
In short(ish), my last living grandparent died, though not unexpectedly, at the beginning of the month and there has been some ensuing hurt and such. On the same day that The Boy's cousin (of whom he was not particularly close) also chose to end his life. This cousin's brother did the same in early December. That family unit is hurting right now. Each of my brothers have had a child suffering from a bout with pneumonia in the past week on top of the general pink eye/colds/sinus infection germs that are plaguing their houses. My brother's beloved 3-year dog is struggling against a disease that is life threatening, and while it's a pet, there's still a hurt there. The Boy is slowly crawling out from his own week of persistent hacking and discomfort. The days have been incredibly February-ish: dark, dull, and dreary.
Yet as the highs and lows were being shared around the community table at church and before my turn came, I mentally prepared my own subsequent answers and realized I had several highs to choose from. An abundance. Unfairly.
1. We had a short week of school, and at this time of year, that's a blessing.
2. I had finished a couple of books lately, and since they were decent / good ones, that feels like a smushy richness of time.
3. I snagged one of the foster babies in our community congregation. She's 4-months but shaped like a 2-month old. She has the best eye lashes, and she was deliciously squishy and snuggly. I got to give her a bottle and gently noodge her back to sleep. That is pretty bliss-y.
4. There was sun, and loads of it. That is enough on many a day. This is the week's high that I choose to share (which was summarily met with hearty head nods and "Ooooh, yes!" by other members of my community table).
Just the day before, I needed to make a trip that was a bit of a drive and took me through a 90-mile chunk of rural Indiana. While I don't mind driving with a purpose, I'm not much for enjoying a drive through barren fields without a purpose, but hand me some good podcasts or an audio book, a plan, and a quiet, sunny morning, and I'm all in. Along the way, I found a field of windmills (expected -- I've driven by this often), a 1.3 mile stretch of state highway with bumper to bumper pick-up trucks on both sides of the road for a Saturday morning auction (unexpected -- this isn't usually my jam and I can't say that I've ever been to one of these or have ever driven by one), and a boy in the yard beside a farmhouse systematically whacking a tree with a long stick (quasi-expected -- what else might one do with one's time on a sunny, warm enough February morning in rural-ville?).
So for a month which had plenty of moments where I too could happily whack a tree with a long stick, I'm still going to choose the sunshine. My word but that sunshine felt great.
Friday, January 31, 2020
Relaxing? Mothering? It's All of the Above.
I’ve been all mother-y lately. It seems that my relationship with my kids is
in a shifting point, and there’s a whole lot of new stuff that we’re exploring
in that realm right now. It’s odd to
feel NEW about mothering after a
decade of experience in this role, but lemme tell you that this is so for me
right now.
Big picture, my time is also just different right now. For the
first time since before I started grade school way back in 2007, I don’t have
a-n-y professional outside requirements on my time other than my full-time
gig. We’re four weeks into the semester
and it still feels odd to have nothing that I have to work on at nights. One might think that this feels like a breath
of fresh air, a break in the stress even.
One might not know me well.
I don’t feel comfortable in extended periods of whatever you
might want to call this. A term like “free
time” springs to mind, I guess.
Note that I didn’t say “I’m not good at this…” or “I hate
this…” but rather “I don’t feel comfortable…” There’s a part of me that does truly delight
in the possibility of calm. But there’s
also a decided part of me that feels all itchy and discombobulated all up in my
psyche. Even though I full support this
time for deep breaths and good books as a boon to my mental health, I don’t
necessarily always enjoy it.
Case in point: I don’t
much care for sweet potatoes. Yet, when
my child is watching me, I choke those mushy bits down because I recognize
their value and want to promote that.
A different aspect of my free bird status right now is that I
feel even more particularly tuned in to the aspect of mothering, and hear me
out on this – I don’t feel compelled to be
more motherly but rather I’m more hyper aware of mothering.
The Elder is heading off to middle school next semester and I’m
fully aware of any number of ways that this will change our relationship. Being a bit more zen with work is enabling me
to truly enjoy some mother-y things with her, and due to some schedule changes
this school year, I often get a bit of time in the afternoons where it is just
her and I alone together. I’m not
implying that we’re braiding each other’s hair on the regular; we often are spending
that time just co-existing. But the
opportunities for low pressure conversations are more readily available, and it’s
delightful to just be a physical presence in her space when she is recalibrating
from the emotions of her day.
The Younger has a feisty streak, it turns out, which became
rampantly present when she was five. Up
to that point, she had been a pretty chill kid, but some burgeoning
independence at that point in her life activated a need to be more dominant and
proactive. This kid is a cuddle bug at
heart whereupon nearly everything can be fixed with presence and touch. These same schedule shifts this school year
have enabled me to engage with this child more independently because I am not
shorting the Elder, who has also been afforded her time. And, just this week, The Younger had an
expander installed to start correcting a significant over bight concern;
nothing screams “YOU’RE A MOTHER!!” like forcing your hand into your child’s
mouth to floss really difficult to reach spots and expand their jaw one crank
at a time.
Maybe it’s the season which is encouraging this level of
introspection, but I blame it on not quite having enough to do. And I’m sure not going to fill my time with
cleaning more. So bring on the books (I
read 13 in January so far with another one all primed to finish today) and the
mounds of blankets.
But I’m also falling asleep by 8:30 every night. That does make it harder to actually read the books. Still.
Bring it, 2020.
Friday, December 27, 2019
A Bookish Best Year
People: I'm watching a movie. Not only that, it's the 2nd one in the space of a week. I've now increased my movie watching for the year by 200%.
So, I'm watching Footloose for the first time ever and THIS IS KIND OF A WEIRD MOVIE. Why does high-schooler-Kevin-Bacon have professional gymnast moves and why are the parallel bars something high schoolers would be using in gym class? Whoa...body doubles. Why does he wear a tie on his first day at a new school? Why does the insult that he flings back to the cowboy-hat-wearing Willard in the hallway make them become friends? Why is Ariel such a jerk?
Also, this is the first movie I have seen where there's a game of chicken being played out using John Deere's set to I Need a Hero (which Kevin Bacon wins because his shoelace gets stuck and he can't stop...???). This contrasts directly with one of the final scenes on the other movie I just watched Danny (i.e. John Travolta) fills in at a drag race and wins...but in a cooler kind of grease-r way.
Also (again): product placement. Did Coke pay a boatload of money at the people who made this movie?
I'm also not entirely sure why Ren move to this no-dancing-uber-conservative-anti-Vonnegut-Midtown-city? I'm (mostly) watching and am confused.
I'm getting all distracted. I really wanted to talk about my G-O-O-D-B-O-O-K year. This is the first year of my life where I've kept track of how many books I've read, not really with a particular goal in mind but wanting to get as close to 100 as possible.
I decided to include audio books in my tracking as well, and here's whatI learned about my reading life:
1. I don't generally like audio books all that much. The narrator really has to be compelling, which adds another elements to whether or not I like a book.
2. I read more than I really thought that I would.
3. I like mysteries a lot, and I can't keep going until I talk about a new devotion to Louise Penny and the Three Pines mysteries. Oh, that there was this was a real town and I would take me to there. Other than the alarmingly high rate of murder happening, this place is idyllic, which, frankly, makes for some compelling murdering to happen. My favorite: all of them that I've read so far (5) but you have to read them in order
4. I read more books set in Australia than I ever have before. So, that was unexpected. I understand why Liane Moriarty is crazy popular, though she's not ever going to be close to a favorite for me. Her chapters tend to end on cliffhangers. A lot. However, she makes up for a bunch with cleverness in the plot. My favorite: What Alice Forgot
5. Tana French is another famous and wildly popular mystery writer that I'll explore more, I've no doubt, but right now I'm less of a fan. Bonus: You can read the Dublin murders in any order.
6. I really appreciate a clever story, no matter the genre. One of my favorites of the year that I wasn't expecting to want to read: The Whisper Man (trigger warnings with this one)
7. It's hard to write a clever non-fiction story. I keep getting pulled into these non-fiction books that are often just...not.
8. My favorite author of the year: Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie -- Americanah, The Purple Hibiscus, Half of a Yellow Sun, "The Danger of a Single Story"
9. I make time for reading at the beginning and end of every day. This is imperative. Be good to yourself.
10. Frederick Backman, another favorite of the year: A Man Called Ove, Britt-Marie Was Here, Beartown, Us Against You, and Things My Son Needs to Know about the World
Next year, I'm changing my tracking method and I'm teaching less, which means yes, I do believe I can reach that pure 100.
YEAR END TOTALS: 82 physical books (though I know I'll finish the 2 that I'm currently reading with an outside shot at finishing a 3rd before the end of the year) + 12 audio books
So, I'm watching Footloose for the first time ever and THIS IS KIND OF A WEIRD MOVIE. Why does high-schooler-Kevin-Bacon have professional gymnast moves and why are the parallel bars something high schoolers would be using in gym class? Whoa...body doubles. Why does he wear a tie on his first day at a new school? Why does the insult that he flings back to the cowboy-hat-wearing Willard in the hallway make them become friends? Why is Ariel such a jerk?
Also, this is the first movie I have seen where there's a game of chicken being played out using John Deere's set to I Need a Hero (which Kevin Bacon wins because his shoelace gets stuck and he can't stop...???). This contrasts directly with one of the final scenes on the other movie I just watched Danny (i.e. John Travolta) fills in at a drag race and wins...but in a cooler kind of grease-r way.
Also (again): product placement. Did Coke pay a boatload of money at the people who made this movie?
I'm also not entirely sure why Ren move to this no-dancing-uber-conservative-anti-Vonnegut-Midtown-city? I'm (mostly) watching and am confused.
I'm getting all distracted. I really wanted to talk about my G-O-O-D-B-O-O-K year. This is the first year of my life where I've kept track of how many books I've read, not really with a particular goal in mind but wanting to get as close to 100 as possible.
I decided to include audio books in my tracking as well, and here's whatI learned about my reading life:
1. I don't generally like audio books all that much. The narrator really has to be compelling, which adds another elements to whether or not I like a book.
2. I read more than I really thought that I would.
3. I like mysteries a lot, and I can't keep going until I talk about a new devotion to Louise Penny and the Three Pines mysteries. Oh, that there was this was a real town and I would take me to there. Other than the alarmingly high rate of murder happening, this place is idyllic, which, frankly, makes for some compelling murdering to happen. My favorite: all of them that I've read so far (5) but you have to read them in order
4. I read more books set in Australia than I ever have before. So, that was unexpected. I understand why Liane Moriarty is crazy popular, though she's not ever going to be close to a favorite for me. Her chapters tend to end on cliffhangers. A lot. However, she makes up for a bunch with cleverness in the plot. My favorite: What Alice Forgot
5. Tana French is another famous and wildly popular mystery writer that I'll explore more, I've no doubt, but right now I'm less of a fan. Bonus: You can read the Dublin murders in any order.
6. I really appreciate a clever story, no matter the genre. One of my favorites of the year that I wasn't expecting to want to read: The Whisper Man (trigger warnings with this one)
7. It's hard to write a clever non-fiction story. I keep getting pulled into these non-fiction books that are often just...not.
8. My favorite author of the year: Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie -- Americanah, The Purple Hibiscus, Half of a Yellow Sun, "The Danger of a Single Story"
9. I make time for reading at the beginning and end of every day. This is imperative. Be good to yourself.
10. Frederick Backman, another favorite of the year: A Man Called Ove, Britt-Marie Was Here, Beartown, Us Against You, and Things My Son Needs to Know about the World
Next year, I'm changing my tracking method and I'm teaching less, which means yes, I do believe I can reach that pure 100.
YEAR END TOTALS: 82 physical books (though I know I'll finish the 2 that I'm currently reading with an outside shot at finishing a 3rd before the end of the year) + 12 audio books
Saturday, November 30, 2019
2 Things I learned This Thanksgiving
Folks, I've been feeding-myself-every-day-all-on-my-own-adulty for 15 years now. In preparation of this shift from kinda-sorta-adulty to full-on-adulty, I went through a lot of my mom's recipes and copied out a bunch of my favorites. This has been invaluable, of course, but also somewhat fruitless. I've learned two things from that:
And here we go...FIFTEEN YEARS LATER, I figured out what the hooey is the problem. People: I copied the ding dang recipe wrong. How, might we ask? What, perchance did I copy incorrectly? Well. The recipe that I wrote down has 3 cups of flour, 1 bar of butter (cold, not melted), 1 egg, a pinch of salt, and 1 T of vinegar. Where is the liquid, one might wonder. It took me FIFTEEN YEARS to figure this out after grumbling my way through this recipe over and over and over. So this Thanksgiving, I learned that I'm actually OK at making pie crust. But I'm somewhat rubbish at copying recipes and absolutely dreadful at figuring out when there's a pretty obvious problem. Oh. My. Word.
Also, what the what is it with my children and Thanksgiving / Christmas? The Elder went through her first stomach bug on Christmas day when she was 2. For a 3-year stretch, The Boy and I alternated with who missed each Christmas gathering at the parents' houses while staying home with a throw-uppy kiddo. I first learned about the convenient marvel of "free shipping" and "online shopping" when a sick child was napping and the other half of the family was enjoying a holiday party elsewhere. And the oddities continue. Over the years, I've learned two things from this:
Kids are maybe the hardest people to understand. Or maybe I'm not the most sympathetic of mothers when my child says "Oh, my heard hurts a bit" and "Oh, I'm beyond exhausted." It may be possible that I rolled my eyes (on the inside) and muttered "Ten year old..." (also on the inside). On the outside, to my credit, she was cuddled all day long and was dosed with Tylenol twice.
So, this Thanksgiving, I learned how to use a mop. The conversation went something like this...
Me: Mom, what do you want me to use to clean the floor?
Mom: I have a mop and bucket.
Me: Mom, can you teach me how to use a mop? I don't own one. I would use disinfecting wipes.
Mom: (blinking at me) You make a lousy adult who keeps humans alive. (She didn't actually say this.)
Me: How much of this bright yellow cleaning solution do I dilute in some substantial amount of water?
Mom: (blinking at me) You make a lousy adult who keeps humans alive. (She also didn't actually say this but I have my doubts that she wasn't thinking this.)
Summarily, it has been a couple of days full of learning opportunities (growth mindset, y'all). That's what happens when I step away from a day job to "relax" and "catch up on my reading" and "do nothing for a few days." When we all get back at it on Monday and I get involved in those inevitable conversations about how the handful of days of went, I very well may raise an eyebrow and launch in with "Well, I learned 2 things..."
- Even if I have Mom's recipes, my food still tastes like my food and her food still tastes like hers. I don't entirely know how that works.
- I've only ever needed a handful of those favorites because I virtually cycle through the same twenty over and over again.
And here we go...FIFTEEN YEARS LATER, I figured out what the hooey is the problem. People: I copied the ding dang recipe wrong. How, might we ask? What, perchance did I copy incorrectly? Well. The recipe that I wrote down has 3 cups of flour, 1 bar of butter (cold, not melted), 1 egg, a pinch of salt, and 1 T of vinegar. Where is the liquid, one might wonder. It took me FIFTEEN YEARS to figure this out after grumbling my way through this recipe over and over and over. So this Thanksgiving, I learned that I'm actually OK at making pie crust. But I'm somewhat rubbish at copying recipes and absolutely dreadful at figuring out when there's a pretty obvious problem. Oh. My. Word.
Also, what the what is it with my children and Thanksgiving / Christmas? The Elder went through her first stomach bug on Christmas day when she was 2. For a 3-year stretch, The Boy and I alternated with who missed each Christmas gathering at the parents' houses while staying home with a throw-uppy kiddo. I first learned about the convenient marvel of "free shipping" and "online shopping" when a sick child was napping and the other half of the family was enjoying a holiday party elsewhere. And the oddities continue. Over the years, I've learned two things from this:
- My children are weird about stomach bugs.
- I can always use the quiet-at-home time with my child and never mind missing that slice of pie and chaos.
Kids are maybe the hardest people to understand. Or maybe I'm not the most sympathetic of mothers when my child says "Oh, my heard hurts a bit" and "Oh, I'm beyond exhausted." It may be possible that I rolled my eyes (on the inside) and muttered "Ten year old..." (also on the inside). On the outside, to my credit, she was cuddled all day long and was dosed with Tylenol twice.
So, this Thanksgiving, I learned how to use a mop. The conversation went something like this...
Me: Mom, what do you want me to use to clean the floor?
Mom: I have a mop and bucket.
Me: Mom, can you teach me how to use a mop? I don't own one. I would use disinfecting wipes.
Mom: (blinking at me) You make a lousy adult who keeps humans alive. (She didn't actually say this.)
Me: How much of this bright yellow cleaning solution do I dilute in some substantial amount of water?
Mom: (blinking at me) You make a lousy adult who keeps humans alive. (She also didn't actually say this but I have my doubts that she wasn't thinking this.)
Summarily, it has been a couple of days full of learning opportunities (growth mindset, y'all). That's what happens when I step away from a day job to "relax" and "catch up on my reading" and "do nothing for a few days." When we all get back at it on Monday and I get involved in those inevitable conversations about how the handful of days of went, I very well may raise an eyebrow and launch in with "Well, I learned 2 things..."
Saturday, October 26, 2019
A taste of the mid-life feels
I know that 60 or 70 years ago, my age (the big 3-6) would be solidly entering mid-life time. I'm not at all sure where that distinction starts anymore, though I feel pretty sure that my mentality isn't there yet. For Patricia's sake, I have a whole gaggle of high school and college friends who are still pushing out sweet, roly-poly babies, which is certainly the antithesis of middle-aged in my mind.
But within the last handful of months, I've been faced with some seemingly incontrovertible evidence that the old bod is aging.
Also, my girls have been entirely invested in baseball all season with me, even now when my / our team is no longer playing in the World Series. I love them so much.
But within the last handful of months, I've been faced with some seemingly incontrovertible evidence that the old bod is aging.
- I now take a daily vitamin-y / supplement-y pill for the pigmentation in my eyes. I'm not a hundo percent sure what the deal is with my sub-par pigmentation other than I'm strongly encouraged to boost my numbers and these pills are supposed to help: $200/year for old-lady-eye-pills.
- I had a normal dental cleaning this week, and my hygienist was updating my chart when she was done and we were waiting on the dentist to come in for his poke around the mouth region. In basically talking to herself out loud, the hygienist made a comment about a couple of spots where my gums are receding: What. In. The. World.
- I pulled out a yoga video that I've had for years and use every once in a while when I want to do something physical but also want to stay home. The Older joined me, and while I can for certain promise you that my form was way better than hers, I can also promise you that I cramped my hamstrings so hard on a cool-down stretch that I can still feel it two days later: What is going on with my legs?
- In the spring, I went through a whole day where my arm was inexplicably sore: I hurt myself while sleeping.
- My hip pops when I run: I sound like a percussive instrument every step I take.
- I forgot my glasses on a recent 3-night trip, which didn't stop me from reading or doing the work I needed to do on my computer, but it did change the way I felt about my eyeballs: I fully trust my eye doctor that she knows what my eyes need (refer to #1).
- The only thing that helps my painfully dry hands as soon as the average temperature falls below 70 degrees is medicated lotion: old lady cream.
Also, my girls have been entirely invested in baseball all season with me, even now when my / our team is no longer playing in the World Series. I love them so much.
Thursday, October 10, 2019
An introvert day
It's been a stretch of time whereupon I've been meaning to write on here again for literally weeks, since about the middle of September when this day happened. But life and work are what they are. (And also -- get this -- I have nothing that I have to grade tonight.)
Also, my boys lost last night so my season of soaring joy and crushing disappointment is over. For that, I am overly sad, I admit. But t turns out that I have a fellow baseball-crazed fan who works across the hall from me and we have much to say. I need people like this person.
About a month ago, the days felt a bit bleak. A bit weary. A bit dull. And I did something that I had never ever in the history of me done before: I took an introvert day.
I fully intended to work at home. And I did.
I fully intended to read and run. And I did.
I fully intended to just BE. And I did.
It was...nice. For all that this word is bland and I would never encourage anyone to really use it, that's exactly what this day was. NICE.
There was beautiful sun. There was a sunggly beasty beside me all day. There was plenty to keep me busy but for which I ultimately felt productive rather than over worked. I felt satisfied at the end of it. And not just good-I-got-things-done satisfied, but fundamentally satisfied and quiet.
I really needed that quiet. The boy is on the downward slope of a busy coaching season on top of his day job and all-other-time-fatherhood job. My students have been at times a bit cloying. I always like them individually, but there are some collective personalities that are just a bit blergh for me this semester. And truth be told, I really loved my last group of kiddos, who have now all flown the nest. I miss them, though trying they were as well. This year's class is really more "normal" for me, and after a year of "love," then "normal" is just a bit off.
So a day came when I could carve out an introvert day and recharge my internal batteries a bit. In the past, I've always guarded my personal days because of inevitable times I need to use them for saving up days to use when on maternity leave, taking care of a sick child, or attending court for some volunteering that I do. But now...no more maternity leave time needed, the boy and I try to split any necessary days off for a sick one (which last year = 1 day each I think), and I'm on hiatus from the court time. Suffice it to say that I used a day on me and it was in September and yes, there's a whole bunch of the year still to come.
I fully trust in mental health days and support my colleagues who use them. It's hard(er) I think when it comes to your own choice to engage in some rest. For me, these days that I am allowed to use each year are not by definition "mental health days," and my type-A personality is a go-by-the-book and ask-permission-first type of person. But I allowed myself some time for deep breaths and, most importantly, silence, which I have learned is a need rather than a want.
And right now, the washing machine is running, the refrigerator is humming, and it is otherwise SILENT. In fact, it's quiet enough that I hear a book calling my name from the other side of the house.
May we all engage in recuperative silence on purpose and with deep, calming breaths.
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