but quiet lately. As a writer does, I constantly have thoughts, composed for print, floating around in my mind.
It's finding the time to put them to paper, or screen, that is my challenge. And finding motivation. I'm always pleased once I do it, but getting to that point is hard for me.
I've started to dream again. Throughout my pre-pregnancy angst, pregnancy, and sleepless nights of new parenthood, dreams took a backseat to brain-empty slumber. And it's a relief to have them back - they are wild and weird, sometimes related to my actual life, sometimes only a minute thread ties them to reality. I actually had a dream last night, about a fabulous house that we moved into, and as I woke up to shushh the babes, I laid down and wished to go back into my dream. It was that interesting. Of course, I didn't find my way down the path to that alternate reality, but I wanted to so badly.
The babies are simply delightful. Solid foods are entertaining, the doorway bouncer is hilarious, and noise-making and almost-crawling are daily occurances.
More to come. You know, once I get motivated.
Tuesday, November 28, 2006
Wednesday, November 15, 2006
Did I Get a WHAT?
I'm so angry. And maybe I shouldn't be, but boy, am I. So mad.
I am very lucky, regarding my home situation. As previously discussed, I closed my business, so that I could have the chance to stay home with the babes. Could be my only chance, blah, blah, blah. It's fine, and a decision I'm happy with. J has always been flexible in his job, and works from a home office. He travels about once a week or so, otherwise conducting his business from the office above the kitchen. Nicely sandwiched next to the nursery, so in effect, there is no way he can escape the three of us during the day.
We never specifically sat down and discussed how daily life would work once the babies arrived, perhaps this is because they arrived in such a chaotic storm so much earlier than expected, or perhaps we both thought it would just "work itself out." But I knew, and know now, that I would be the primary caretaker of the children, and J would pitch in as needed and as schedule permits. The first two months or so they were home was completly non-productive for J, professionally, because I was such a mess, and it really took two people to care for both the babies and for me. But things have evened out quite nicely. He'll come down to help with the feeds when he can, and I never pressure him to do so. He'll check in on them when they awake early from a nap, since he is literally ten steps away from their room, and I'm probably downstairs in the kitchen, or run off to the store.
I make a real effort to get us out of the house at least once, maybe twice, a day, so that he had total quiet time to work. Pretty much every day, without fail. Perhaps this is why every other entry on my credit card statement is from Target. Like I really need more socks/food storage containers/greeting cards/diapers (actually, I usually do need more of these!), but whatever.
So on Monday, as usual, we went over our weekly schedules. Of course, mine was quite exciting and included playgroup on Tuesday, dentist on Wednesday morning (very early, so as to not disturb J's schedule), pediatritian on Thursday for Synergis RSV vaccines, babysitter on Friday morning (as we do every week, so I can have some unencumbered out-of-the-house time). J's schedule is very light this week, and most work is happening at home.
I decided that I am going to bite the bullet and get myself to the hair salon for a real haircut and highlight. I'm dying for a real hairstyle, not just the long, all-one-length, boring hair that I've had since the babies were born. Six months. No haircut. This is a big deal for me. I simply haven't been able to decide what I wanted to do ... stay long and pull-back-able but have little actual "style" or do the Mommy-Cut, which I dread. No offence to those of you who may have the short Mommy-Cut. I dig it, and I actually had that cut for many years in my early twenties. When I had no desire to be a Mommy. But I digress.
I call my long-time stylist, fully expecting to book an appointment for a few weeks in the future, as he's usually quite busy. I'm thrilled when he has an opening on Wednesday afternoon (today!) I take the appointment, and realize I have to make a decision about what I really want my hair to look like. I'm thrilled, I'm psyched, I'm totally excited ... I'm going to be Me again!
I tell J. that evening that I've got an appointment scheduled for 1:30 (knowing he is able to watch the kids. And by the way, it's their naptime. Not tough.) and how excited I am. He turns to look at me and asks,
"Did you get a babysitter?"
Did I get a WHAT? The anger that came pouring over me what fiery hot, and just bubbled out of every freakin' pore on my skin. I practically bit his head off as I outlined all my arguments (as read above), haven't had a haircut for six months, is it too much to ask, blah, blah, blah.
I think it might be in some ways easier on me if he did have a traditional job out of the home, but I know that option wouldn't make me any happier. I wouldn't be able to rely on him for these last minute (but not a conflict for him, may I add) events, but it's not something I do often. Rarely, actually. I schedule anything personal for me in the early mornings, evenings, or on Friday mornings when we have a sitter. And I do like having him around. Sometimes. There are so many more issues revolving around that, but I'll save it for another time, another post.
I could just shoot him. It was a crappy evening, and we both spouted off about what we thought it would be like versus what it's actually like. Our life with babies, I mean. There is no real resolution, but I think I'm going to make an effort to be out of the house even more. Maybe sign us up for a music or gym class, I don't know.
I am very lucky, regarding my home situation. As previously discussed, I closed my business, so that I could have the chance to stay home with the babes. Could be my only chance, blah, blah, blah. It's fine, and a decision I'm happy with. J has always been flexible in his job, and works from a home office. He travels about once a week or so, otherwise conducting his business from the office above the kitchen. Nicely sandwiched next to the nursery, so in effect, there is no way he can escape the three of us during the day.
We never specifically sat down and discussed how daily life would work once the babies arrived, perhaps this is because they arrived in such a chaotic storm so much earlier than expected, or perhaps we both thought it would just "work itself out." But I knew, and know now, that I would be the primary caretaker of the children, and J would pitch in as needed and as schedule permits. The first two months or so they were home was completly non-productive for J, professionally, because I was such a mess, and it really took two people to care for both the babies and for me. But things have evened out quite nicely. He'll come down to help with the feeds when he can, and I never pressure him to do so. He'll check in on them when they awake early from a nap, since he is literally ten steps away from their room, and I'm probably downstairs in the kitchen, or run off to the store.
I make a real effort to get us out of the house at least once, maybe twice, a day, so that he had total quiet time to work. Pretty much every day, without fail. Perhaps this is why every other entry on my credit card statement is from Target. Like I really need more socks/food storage containers/greeting cards/diapers (actually, I usually do need more of these!), but whatever.
So on Monday, as usual, we went over our weekly schedules. Of course, mine was quite exciting and included playgroup on Tuesday, dentist on Wednesday morning (very early, so as to not disturb J's schedule), pediatritian on Thursday for Synergis RSV vaccines, babysitter on Friday morning (as we do every week, so I can have some unencumbered out-of-the-house time). J's schedule is very light this week, and most work is happening at home.
I decided that I am going to bite the bullet and get myself to the hair salon for a real haircut and highlight. I'm dying for a real hairstyle, not just the long, all-one-length, boring hair that I've had since the babies were born. Six months. No haircut. This is a big deal for me. I simply haven't been able to decide what I wanted to do ... stay long and pull-back-able but have little actual "style" or do the Mommy-Cut, which I dread. No offence to those of you who may have the short Mommy-Cut. I dig it, and I actually had that cut for many years in my early twenties. When I had no desire to be a Mommy. But I digress.
I call my long-time stylist, fully expecting to book an appointment for a few weeks in the future, as he's usually quite busy. I'm thrilled when he has an opening on Wednesday afternoon (today!) I take the appointment, and realize I have to make a decision about what I really want my hair to look like. I'm thrilled, I'm psyched, I'm totally excited ... I'm going to be Me again!
I tell J. that evening that I've got an appointment scheduled for 1:30 (knowing he is able to watch the kids. And by the way, it's their naptime. Not tough.) and how excited I am. He turns to look at me and asks,
"Did you get a babysitter?"
Did I get a WHAT? The anger that came pouring over me what fiery hot, and just bubbled out of every freakin' pore on my skin. I practically bit his head off as I outlined all my arguments (as read above), haven't had a haircut for six months, is it too much to ask, blah, blah, blah.
I think it might be in some ways easier on me if he did have a traditional job out of the home, but I know that option wouldn't make me any happier. I wouldn't be able to rely on him for these last minute (but not a conflict for him, may I add) events, but it's not something I do often. Rarely, actually. I schedule anything personal for me in the early mornings, evenings, or on Friday mornings when we have a sitter. And I do like having him around. Sometimes. There are so many more issues revolving around that, but I'll save it for another time, another post.
I could just shoot him. It was a crappy evening, and we both spouted off about what we thought it would be like versus what it's actually like. Our life with babies, I mean. There is no real resolution, but I think I'm going to make an effort to be out of the house even more. Maybe sign us up for a music or gym class, I don't know.
Monday, November 06, 2006
Okay, It Was a 40-Minute Meal
I love this kind of night. Dinner-wise, I mean.
It was a busy weekend. The babies were baptized, we had a house full of people for brunch, which resulted in a weird disarray of strange foods in the fridge/freezer
What to make for dinner tonight?, I thought. I went through the fridge and threw out some nasty, spoiled stuff. Pawed through the freezer and found some frozen chicken, in a plastic bag. Is it breasts? Is it tenders? Is it even chicken?
Reaching under the sink to store a used baby bottle (until I put them all in the dishwasher in the evening), I spy a sack of red potatos that really should be used sooner rather than later. Now, preferably.
Vegetables are currently out-of-stock in this house, but I did find one decrepid lime and the leftover strawberries from this weekend. Well, you've gotta have something fresh, right?
I pull out one of my favorite easy cookbooks, and look under "chicken" in the index. And what do you know? There's a great recipe that includes the very few things that I actually do have on hand.
I rescue the wilting cilantro from it's new home in the trashcan (still bagged in plastic, no worries), throw in a few more ingredients, fire up the stove for boiling water and a grill pan, and I've got Cilantro/Lime/Honey Grilled Chicken Sandwiches, Smashed Potatos with Cream Cheese, and Rocky Road ice cream layered with sugary strawberries.
It's no gourmet menu, but for making something out of nothing, it was sure good.
It was a busy weekend. The babies were baptized, we had a house full of people for brunch, which resulted in a weird disarray of strange foods in the fridge/freezer
What to make for dinner tonight?, I thought. I went through the fridge and threw out some nasty, spoiled stuff. Pawed through the freezer and found some frozen chicken, in a plastic bag. Is it breasts? Is it tenders? Is it even chicken?
Reaching under the sink to store a used baby bottle (until I put them all in the dishwasher in the evening), I spy a sack of red potatos that really should be used sooner rather than later. Now, preferably.
Vegetables are currently out-of-stock in this house, but I did find one decrepid lime and the leftover strawberries from this weekend. Well, you've gotta have something fresh, right?
I pull out one of my favorite easy cookbooks, and look under "chicken" in the index. And what do you know? There's a great recipe that includes the very few things that I actually do have on hand.
I rescue the wilting cilantro from it's new home in the trashcan (still bagged in plastic, no worries), throw in a few more ingredients, fire up the stove for boiling water and a grill pan, and I've got Cilantro/Lime/Honey Grilled Chicken Sandwiches, Smashed Potatos with Cream Cheese, and Rocky Road ice cream layered with sugary strawberries.
It's no gourmet menu, but for making something out of nothing, it was sure good.
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