Oof. So I went to see a big shiny musical yesterday. And it was lovely. It had people in it I know from being in other big shiny musicals.
I find it really difficult not to feel terrible about myself when I go see people who work all the time, because my brain bounces back and forth between - why can't that be me and clearly I am not working all the time because I'm not talented enough.
Neither of which are useful things to have running through one's head, no matter what the truth might be.
But I was thinking, hey, I just had a baby, I get time off for good behavior, right? I'm not on stage, but at home I have this cute little awesome person that I adore, and that's worth not being in a trillion shows.
Then, waiting to hug people I knew afterwards, it became clear that the woman who played the lead (beautifully, I must add)...(WAIT FOR IT)...has a baby.
A baby.
So, folks, yes, the answer is that I am just not that great, just not on the career path. Because turns out, having a baby apparently only keeps me from working. Other people, more successful, talented people, work all the time.
Don't start with me, I know despair isn't attractive. I just have no other response to this series of information.
Next week I start rehearsals for a show I'm understudying - and I genuinely don't feel bad I didn't get cast, because the woman I'm understudying is phenomenal, and I love her. I can only hope going to rehearsal helps me feel less like the hack I feel right now.
(By the way, the baby is still really cute. Mine, that is. I still love her to bits.)
Monday, August 18, 2014
Tuesday, August 05, 2014
Too much
Sometimes, it's not that I have nothing to say, it's that I have so much to say, all contradictory, and not nearly enough time to write it all down. But if I write the one thing without the contradiction, it won't represent what I really feel, it will just be a blip from one minute side of the question.
This is probably why I resort to bullet lists so frequently.
Anyway, there's a lot going on, most of it good. And now I need a nap.
No, need a nap. Turns out there's a difference between need and want.
This is probably why I resort to bullet lists so frequently.
Anyway, there's a lot going on, most of it good. And now I need a nap.
No, need a nap. Turns out there's a difference between need and want.
Tuesday, June 03, 2014
Then he broke the faucet
I thought last week would be hard, because I was at home with my daughter pretty much on my own, for eight days. I had a little break half way through, and an assist from a friend for an hour here and there to go running, but it was just me and her for eight days.
It wasn't hard, turns out. I had cleared my schedule for the most part, so I could really focus on her and on whatever needed to happen. There were very few distractions, and everyone I went to hang out with was very understanding about having an occasionally vocal four-month-old around.
Turns out, what was hard was this week, when I abruptly came back to being around the entire world (instead of my selected super-understanding cohort of specially sympathetic friends), the "real" world, if you will.
In the real world, I am now only an accessory to the cuteness of my daughter, and have ceased to have very much personhood.
It's not her fault, by the way. She's a baby, and she's not unreasonable or fussy or difficult. She's smiley and adorable and really only makes noise when she's hungry, dirty, or bored. I want her to grow and turn into a person I'd like to be around, so I want to give her the things she needs, because then she'll be healthy and secure enough to be interested in the rest of the world.
It just turns out, sometimes it's really hard to give a child all the things they need and have enough time left to be much of a person yourself. It doesn't last, by the way - thought I am sure there are always decisions between what you need for yourself and what your child needs - but the really intense time is now, and we're moving through it fairly well.
Just not today. Today I feel like I had to press "pause" on life, and today I miss my life. Today I worry if I'll ever get to be in a play again, or sing worth a damn for any band or musical, or write more than a thank you note, or even read an entire book without having to stop a trillion times. Or even have a conversation without interruption. (Or fit into my old clothes.)
"Nope!" laugh other parents out there. "No, you won't, sugar! Get used to it!"
My husband came home from 10 days away and had to literally leave the house within the hour to start working on a different part of his work-life. He's great, he really works hard to make sure I'm able to do things outside the house, but the reality of his situation is that within 24 hours of achieving his graduate degree, he had other fires to work on putting out. (Also, before he left, he broke the faucet. Sigh.)
I get it, I do. I try really hard not to feel far down on his list of priorities because he constantly tries to put me and her first. It's just...
By the time it's ever my turn out of the house again, I will probably have no skills/interests/talents/viability left.
I don't really believe that. Do I? Maybe just today I do.
And let's get into the hardest part, the probable reason for this glum mood - it was really hard to get my daughter to sleep tonight. She cried. Hard. I had to put her down crying. She calmed down and went to sleep, but my last psychic glimpse of her, this tiny person I'm giving up myself for, was of a truly distraught tiny creature, unhappily wailing.
It hurts me. It's so hard to have her cry like that. I hate it. The fact that she went to sleep within five minutes means she was crying because she just wanted to fight the sleep, and I know that, and thus I know I'm still doing the right thing for her, but she's often such a happy thing, that listening to the crying is draining emotionally.
Because here's the thing. If you feel, however wrongly or in passing, that you're giving up your self for another human being, and yet the feedback you're getting implies that you're not doing a very good job...
...then it's a rough day.
Y'all, I love her so much. Here's hoping she wakes up with a smile.
In happier news, the faucet is already fixed.
It wasn't hard, turns out. I had cleared my schedule for the most part, so I could really focus on her and on whatever needed to happen. There were very few distractions, and everyone I went to hang out with was very understanding about having an occasionally vocal four-month-old around.
Turns out, what was hard was this week, when I abruptly came back to being around the entire world (instead of my selected super-understanding cohort of specially sympathetic friends), the "real" world, if you will.
In the real world, I am now only an accessory to the cuteness of my daughter, and have ceased to have very much personhood.
It's not her fault, by the way. She's a baby, and she's not unreasonable or fussy or difficult. She's smiley and adorable and really only makes noise when she's hungry, dirty, or bored. I want her to grow and turn into a person I'd like to be around, so I want to give her the things she needs, because then she'll be healthy and secure enough to be interested in the rest of the world.
It just turns out, sometimes it's really hard to give a child all the things they need and have enough time left to be much of a person yourself. It doesn't last, by the way - thought I am sure there are always decisions between what you need for yourself and what your child needs - but the really intense time is now, and we're moving through it fairly well.
Just not today. Today I feel like I had to press "pause" on life, and today I miss my life. Today I worry if I'll ever get to be in a play again, or sing worth a damn for any band or musical, or write more than a thank you note, or even read an entire book without having to stop a trillion times. Or even have a conversation without interruption. (Or fit into my old clothes.)
"Nope!" laugh other parents out there. "No, you won't, sugar! Get used to it!"
My husband came home from 10 days away and had to literally leave the house within the hour to start working on a different part of his work-life. He's great, he really works hard to make sure I'm able to do things outside the house, but the reality of his situation is that within 24 hours of achieving his graduate degree, he had other fires to work on putting out. (Also, before he left, he broke the faucet. Sigh.)
I get it, I do. I try really hard not to feel far down on his list of priorities because he constantly tries to put me and her first. It's just...
By the time it's ever my turn out of the house again, I will probably have no skills/interests/talents/viability left.
I don't really believe that. Do I? Maybe just today I do.
And let's get into the hardest part, the probable reason for this glum mood - it was really hard to get my daughter to sleep tonight. She cried. Hard. I had to put her down crying. She calmed down and went to sleep, but my last psychic glimpse of her, this tiny person I'm giving up myself for, was of a truly distraught tiny creature, unhappily wailing.
It hurts me. It's so hard to have her cry like that. I hate it. The fact that she went to sleep within five minutes means she was crying because she just wanted to fight the sleep, and I know that, and thus I know I'm still doing the right thing for her, but she's often such a happy thing, that listening to the crying is draining emotionally.
Because here's the thing. If you feel, however wrongly or in passing, that you're giving up your self for another human being, and yet the feedback you're getting implies that you're not doing a very good job...
...then it's a rough day.
Y'all, I love her so much. Here's hoping she wakes up with a smile.
In happier news, the faucet is already fixed.
Friday, April 25, 2014
What's going on
I don't trust myself to write a lot intended to be shoved out here in a public space right now. First, with an infant taking up nearly all my waking hours, everything is changing moment to moment. I'm thrilled then I'm sad then I'm bored then I'm frustrated then I'm charmed then I'm terrified. Additionally, I have a ton of hormones still running through my system that I neither understand nor control. Apparently I will have them until I stop breastfeeding. Awesome.
For instance, this morning I was convinced I am a terrible mother. And I bet if I didn't write it down, I'd forget about it, and someday I would look back on this period and think, hmm, I did a pretty okay job, all things considered. But of course if I write about it right now, instead I'll color my memories with the self doubt that listening to your child cry engenders. But if I write about it, I might be able to make sense of it in my mind. But if I write about it, I might begin, and the sound of crying may force me to stop halfway and I'll have yet another abandoned post. (There are quite a few.)
Also, earlier today my husband asked: is there anyone you can talk to about any of this (meaning the parenting decisions I'm making)? And when I thought about it, I realized: in a way, the answer is "no". Because parenting philosophies are really personal, charged decisions and everyone gets defensive about whatever choices get made. But every kid is different. So while yes, someone out there has probably lived through a similar situation, I don't know that person, and the people I do know are more likely to be aghast that I'm trying any sort of sleep training this young, or never needed it because their child never had problems sleeping all night long. (Sheesh.)
It's knowing that if I ask one set of people, they'll tell me I should abandon my current course altogether, whereas if I ask another, they'll tell me I need to toughen up. Neither feel exactly right for this kid at this time. But I can't guarantee any of what I am doing is helping. I'm just guessing in the dark right now, trying different stuff, which unfortunately ruins any attempt at consistency. Consistency is supposed to be the best tool at your disposal. But how can you be consistent when you can't tell what works?
It. is. tricky.
And then sometimes my daughter will push up with her legs and stand on my knees, and smile and smile, and make little squealy raptor noises, and then it doesn't matter that I'm surviving on so few hours of sleep every single night, it doesn't matter if she cries when it's naptime, the erosion of who I am doesn't matter because it's being replaced by who I'm going to be with this new person in my life, once she figures out who she is.
Because though I can't really call it a two-way street yet, I added a lot of love to my life when we had her.
Which is worth every item of clothing I have being covered in spit up for the next year or so, right?
For instance, this morning I was convinced I am a terrible mother. And I bet if I didn't write it down, I'd forget about it, and someday I would look back on this period and think, hmm, I did a pretty okay job, all things considered. But of course if I write about it right now, instead I'll color my memories with the self doubt that listening to your child cry engenders. But if I write about it, I might be able to make sense of it in my mind. But if I write about it, I might begin, and the sound of crying may force me to stop halfway and I'll have yet another abandoned post. (There are quite a few.)
Also, earlier today my husband asked: is there anyone you can talk to about any of this (meaning the parenting decisions I'm making)? And when I thought about it, I realized: in a way, the answer is "no". Because parenting philosophies are really personal, charged decisions and everyone gets defensive about whatever choices get made. But every kid is different. So while yes, someone out there has probably lived through a similar situation, I don't know that person, and the people I do know are more likely to be aghast that I'm trying any sort of sleep training this young, or never needed it because their child never had problems sleeping all night long. (Sheesh.)
It's knowing that if I ask one set of people, they'll tell me I should abandon my current course altogether, whereas if I ask another, they'll tell me I need to toughen up. Neither feel exactly right for this kid at this time. But I can't guarantee any of what I am doing is helping. I'm just guessing in the dark right now, trying different stuff, which unfortunately ruins any attempt at consistency. Consistency is supposed to be the best tool at your disposal. But how can you be consistent when you can't tell what works?
It. is. tricky.
And then sometimes my daughter will push up with her legs and stand on my knees, and smile and smile, and make little squealy raptor noises, and then it doesn't matter that I'm surviving on so few hours of sleep every single night, it doesn't matter if she cries when it's naptime, the erosion of who I am doesn't matter because it's being replaced by who I'm going to be with this new person in my life, once she figures out who she is.
Because though I can't really call it a two-way street yet, I added a lot of love to my life when we had her.
Which is worth every item of clothing I have being covered in spit up for the next year or so, right?
Thursday, April 17, 2014
So much wasted time
In a way, it's lucky that my current phone somehow won't track how long each call is. It tells me what time the call originated, but not when it ended, and thus, not the duration. I miss this feature - I lost it when I was forced to change carriers recently (ours got bought).
But that means I can't go back and tabulate how many hours I have spent on hold trying to sort out my health insurance and that of my new daughter. I am in no way exaggerating when I put the estimate in terms of 25-30 hours on hold since December. I'm probably underestimating. Every time I think I have it sorted out - and I mean, just getting the coverage, not even dealing with any of the claims as of yet - something happens and I get to spend another round of waiting to talk to people. I think my record is three hours and twenty minutes on hold at Blue Cross Blue Shield.
And a lot of this is for stupid details: I thought I sorted it all out in January, only to be sent an id card with my name misspelled. This came from an agency that has access to my social security number. Surely they could match that with my name? I mean, they're going to need to access my taxes, it will really help to be asking for the correct person's information.
Now I'm suddenly enrolled in a program that might be a huge help, but the information tells me it costs one thing, and the invoice they're asking me to pay is six times that. So...huhn? Which means...oh dear god...I'm back on hold.
All of these calls are much trickier with an infant on hand, you know.
On the positive side, I figure if there's a purgatory, I'm shortening my time there as we speak. Or rather, as we don't speak, as we wait on hold for someone to speak to.
Sigh.
But that means I can't go back and tabulate how many hours I have spent on hold trying to sort out my health insurance and that of my new daughter. I am in no way exaggerating when I put the estimate in terms of 25-30 hours on hold since December. I'm probably underestimating. Every time I think I have it sorted out - and I mean, just getting the coverage, not even dealing with any of the claims as of yet - something happens and I get to spend another round of waiting to talk to people. I think my record is three hours and twenty minutes on hold at Blue Cross Blue Shield.
And a lot of this is for stupid details: I thought I sorted it all out in January, only to be sent an id card with my name misspelled. This came from an agency that has access to my social security number. Surely they could match that with my name? I mean, they're going to need to access my taxes, it will really help to be asking for the correct person's information.
Now I'm suddenly enrolled in a program that might be a huge help, but the information tells me it costs one thing, and the invoice they're asking me to pay is six times that. So...huhn? Which means...oh dear god...I'm back on hold.
All of these calls are much trickier with an infant on hand, you know.
On the positive side, I figure if there's a purgatory, I'm shortening my time there as we speak. Or rather, as we don't speak, as we wait on hold for someone to speak to.
Sigh.
Friday, March 28, 2014
Quick ones
This will be a lightening fast post, because my daughter is squirming away on a mat at my feet, and she will get bored at some point and require me to stop.
It's just, I cast my eye across one of my posts from November - oh-so-anxious-will-I-even-love-this-baby, and I feel compelled to go on record:
I totally love this baby. I am absolutely in love with this baby. And there are lots of anxieties, but they've changed into ones about her, not about me. I still worry if we can make enough money to take care of her. I still worry we can take care of her (there's a lot about babies I still find bewildering). But she is beautiful and joyful in a way I really couldn't imagine. When she sleeps, I look at pictures of her. When she's awake, I like to nuzzle her baby-soft head. When she cries, I hold her and try to make it better. I love seeing her smile when I come pick her up. Heck, I love seeing her smile anytime. She is glorious. And she's not even fully a person yet. I can't wait to see how much I love her when she's truly interactive, when she's fully exploring the world, when she can talk and laugh and crawl around.
I want to go on record to say: if you don't want kids, can't have kids, or for whatever reason won't end up with kids, that is not a problem. There are a lot of things in life I won't do, and it doesn't take away from their value that I don't do them, and it doesn't take away from my value that I don't do them. So please, when I wax poetic, I'm just telling you about what's going on with me. It's incredible...for me.
And with that out of the way, let me get back to my bundle of utter adorableness. She's so freakin' cute, y'all. I luuuurve her.
It's just, I cast my eye across one of my posts from November - oh-so-anxious-will-I-even-love-this-baby, and I feel compelled to go on record:
I totally love this baby. I am absolutely in love with this baby. And there are lots of anxieties, but they've changed into ones about her, not about me. I still worry if we can make enough money to take care of her. I still worry we can take care of her (there's a lot about babies I still find bewildering). But she is beautiful and joyful in a way I really couldn't imagine. When she sleeps, I look at pictures of her. When she's awake, I like to nuzzle her baby-soft head. When she cries, I hold her and try to make it better. I love seeing her smile when I come pick her up. Heck, I love seeing her smile anytime. She is glorious. And she's not even fully a person yet. I can't wait to see how much I love her when she's truly interactive, when she's fully exploring the world, when she can talk and laugh and crawl around.
I want to go on record to say: if you don't want kids, can't have kids, or for whatever reason won't end up with kids, that is not a problem. There are a lot of things in life I won't do, and it doesn't take away from their value that I don't do them, and it doesn't take away from my value that I don't do them. So please, when I wax poetic, I'm just telling you about what's going on with me. It's incredible...for me.
And with that out of the way, let me get back to my bundle of utter adorableness. She's so freakin' cute, y'all. I luuuurve her.
Thursday, March 06, 2014
Yep
Turns out, a baby takes considerable time and effort. I expected that. What they don't tell you is that it takes all the hands you have, and if the baby doesn't nap at convenient times, you don't have time to use both hands.
Also, when you pick midwives because they have a 15-20% cesarean rate, you just don't figure you will be the 15-20% getting one.
So, recovering from major surgery here, with a baby. Who last night did not sleep.
Technically, this makes me a mommyblogger. But truthfully, I am no blogger at all for the next few weeks. Hopefully, I'll be back and can catch all 4 of you up on the highs and lows. There are lows, ugh, so low, but happily, there are highs. And I promise cute baby pictures at some point.
Also, when you pick midwives because they have a 15-20% cesarean rate, you just don't figure you will be the 15-20% getting one.
So, recovering from major surgery here, with a baby. Who last night did not sleep.
Technically, this makes me a mommyblogger. But truthfully, I am no blogger at all for the next few weeks. Hopefully, I'll be back and can catch all 4 of you up on the highs and lows. There are lows, ugh, so low, but happily, there are highs. And I promise cute baby pictures at some point.
Wednesday, January 01, 2014
Not helping
Lovely husband: It's 2014.
Me: Yep. Here we are.
LH: You're going to start having contractions pretty much any time now.
Me: Yeeessss...um, thanks for the reminder?
LH: It's probably going to hurt.
Me: This is not as helpful as you think it is.
LH: This is the year we have a baby.
Happy New Year, folks. It's a threshold here in my world - I hope it's a bridge to all of the next for you as well. More when my fingers start working again. (Don't ask: pregnancy turns out to be seriously inconvenient towards the end. At least that's my experience.)
Me: Yep. Here we are.
LH: You're going to start having contractions pretty much any time now.
Me: Yeeessss...um, thanks for the reminder?
LH: It's probably going to hurt.
Me: This is not as helpful as you think it is.
LH: This is the year we have a baby.
Happy New Year, folks. It's a threshold here in my world - I hope it's a bridge to all of the next for you as well. More when my fingers start working again. (Don't ask: pregnancy turns out to be seriously inconvenient towards the end. At least that's my experience.)
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