Mental health is a field widely-known for attracting colorful characters. My office works barely, just barely, in the mental health field but does not lack for weirdos. Unlike in some other mental health jobs I've had, these weirdos are safe and lovable...like kittens or Beanie Babies. Here are some of my favorites:
Ho-Hum Secretary
This woman's only response to "How are you?" is "It's been a loooong day." In fact, you don't even have to ask her how she is. She'll just tell you. Sometimes all it takes is a little eye contact, and she's launching into how crappy her day has been, or how slowly the week is going, or how confusing some new system is, or how rude someone just was to her over the phone. Sometimes I want to say something to the effect of "Hey, it's not that I don't care, but I'm just walking past your desk on my way to the bathroom", but I never do. And now that I'm pregnant and therefore peeing every 40 seconds, I have to pass by her desk and hear about how mopey and anxious she is just as often. (And no, she is not clinically depressed or anything. Just very ho-hum. Yes, I'm sure.)
Three-Piece Suit
This doctor wears a three piece suit every single day, winter or summer, rain or shine, planned interaction with the public or not. He also acts like someone who should be wearing a three piece suit all the time. He's incredibly chivalrous, is incredibly polite and cheerful, and is about as anal retentive as they come. One time, he was in a meeting room I had reserved and had taped up about a thousand huge sheets of paper on the walls. I offered to help take them down (keep in mind, they were literally just sheets of paper with magic marker writing on them), and he said, "No! It's probably best if you don't touch them." I guess clean hands and 5 years of education don't qualify me to touch his papers.
Musical Doctor (aka, The Original Hipster)
This doctor listens to great music, gave me tickets to the New Pornographers because he wanted to spend time with his dog before having to have it put down, rides a scooter to work on nice days, and accidentally sent me an email in which he referred to his co-workers as 'losers'. He also has a mustache and is very tall, awkward, and lanky. He's not that great during social interactions, either. I like to think he grows his own pot, listens to vinyl, and lives in the upstairs of a duplex, but he probably lives with his wife in the 'burbs and has a vegetable garden. Still interesting.
Perpetually Hungover Billing Lady
I'm not here to say that this woman has a drinking problem or anything like that, but I think she is always recovering from the weekend, even on Wednesday. She's got amazing hair--like a 50's hairdo sprayed solid and cut down the middle with a headband--and the skinniest legs I've ever seen on an adult. I'm not kidding, her legs are as thin as my arms, and she's very round from the waist up. She likes to wear stretch pants and big t-shirts. Her voice sounds like she's been smoking since conception. Her laugh startles me sometimes, especially when it descends into a hacking cough that lasts for several minutes. There a picture on her desk of a horse, photographed sort of from the backside. One day I asked, "Is that your horse?" She started laughing her crazy, hacking cackle and shouted, "NO! MY EX-HUSBAND!" She subsists exclusively on pickle juice, hard candy, and Ramen noodles. Seriously, she said so.
The Loud One
In the office just around the corner, there lives a loud woman who thinks everyone else is kind of a moron. She tells high-volume, intense stories about the idiots who dare to show her houses she might like to buy, her future in-laws, and the people helping her to plan her wedding. My co-worker sits unfortunately close to the doorway and often has to shut the door to keep this woman's voice from carrying over the phone while she speaks with our patients. A few weeks ago, the door to our office was closed right away on Monday morning. When I opened it, my co-worker said, "I heard her say on Friday that she was going shopping for new kitchen cabinets over the weekend, and I can't listen to that this morning." She likes to wear Vikings jerseys to work. I know this woman better than I know most of my close friends...and I'm not even sure she knows my name.
Hope you're well!
xo
Monday, August 22, 2011
Friday, August 19, 2011
You May Say That I'm A Socialist, But I'm Obviously Not The Only One
I've been having a lot of thoughts lately, partly about the baby but also about a lot of other things related to what it's really like to think about having a baby in this country.
Now, first of all, let me be all sunshine and roses here and say that yes, I understand that I'm living in a medically-advanced country, I am lucky to have health care that allows me to meet all my prenatal needs inexpensively, and I am, frankly, lucky to be a middle-class white, educated, married, employed woman of 28 giving birth to her first child. I am lucky that we got pregnant easily, lucky that I have a wonderful, supportive, loving, employed, educated husband, family, and group of friends, and lucky that I have a job that will allow me to work until I give birth and then take off 3 months with my new baby. I am lucky that I will probably not die in childbirth, lucky that my baby will have immediate access to the best medical care should something go wrong, and lucky that I've been tested all over the place during this pregnancy to ensure that nothing, so far, has gone wrong during womb-time, which makes me lucky all over again.
So, what have I done to deserve all this? Sure, I've made relatively good life choices--going to college, avoiding street drugs, getting married to the right person--but the most important things that eventually led me to this lucky place have been purely circumstantial. I just happened to be born to two married, white parents who wanted me. My parents and extended family gave me every educational advantage--they read to me, encouraged my studies, gave me educational toys, limited my TV, and fed me a balanced diet. I was lucky to be born into this fortuitous situation, and did nothing "right" to deserve this place in life.
So, I'm having a baby, and I'm lucky to have the care that I have. But what about the people who weren't so lucky--the ones who didn't have a loving and supportive family? The ones whose parents didn't have enough money or time or knowledge to give them all the advantages I've enjoyed? The ones who, now, don't have access to the health care that I have access to, but are facing the same new motherhood I am?
My sister-in-law and her husband recently gave birth to a gorgeous baby girl who arrived about 6 weeks early. She didn't have to worry about the medical bills that may have resulted in the birth of a preemie, and will have a year off to bond with, breastfeed, and care for her baby. She will not have to make the difficult decision of putting her tiny baby into a day care center until the baby is almost walking. She and her husband won't have to worry about balancing new parenthood and work for a year. They will also, as a side note, not have to worry about putting away money for their baby's college education. Their lucky position in life comes from the fact that they were born in a country with universal health care, nearly-free education, and liberal maternity leave.
Why is it that access to things like maternity leave, higher education, and health care are dependent on luck? What have we done wrong as a country to allow luck to be a major deciding factor in a person's ability to access life's necessities? And why do we allow those who have been lucky to make sweeping political changes that affect those who have not?
It is my strong belief, now more than ever, that we need, need, need to reform our health care system even more, and I believe we need to offer universal care. And to start this, we, the lucky in America, need to acknowledge our vastly unearned positions and stand up for the ones who have not been so fortunate. We need to create a country that uses tax money to enhance the life of the people who live here, and to care for people who need extra assistance. As an almost-mother, I want nothing more than to bring my baby into a world that provides security, not anxiety, and opportunities rather than financial burdens and fear.
Now, first of all, let me be all sunshine and roses here and say that yes, I understand that I'm living in a medically-advanced country, I am lucky to have health care that allows me to meet all my prenatal needs inexpensively, and I am, frankly, lucky to be a middle-class white, educated, married, employed woman of 28 giving birth to her first child. I am lucky that we got pregnant easily, lucky that I have a wonderful, supportive, loving, employed, educated husband, family, and group of friends, and lucky that I have a job that will allow me to work until I give birth and then take off 3 months with my new baby. I am lucky that I will probably not die in childbirth, lucky that my baby will have immediate access to the best medical care should something go wrong, and lucky that I've been tested all over the place during this pregnancy to ensure that nothing, so far, has gone wrong during womb-time, which makes me lucky all over again.
So, what have I done to deserve all this? Sure, I've made relatively good life choices--going to college, avoiding street drugs, getting married to the right person--but the most important things that eventually led me to this lucky place have been purely circumstantial. I just happened to be born to two married, white parents who wanted me. My parents and extended family gave me every educational advantage--they read to me, encouraged my studies, gave me educational toys, limited my TV, and fed me a balanced diet. I was lucky to be born into this fortuitous situation, and did nothing "right" to deserve this place in life.
So, I'm having a baby, and I'm lucky to have the care that I have. But what about the people who weren't so lucky--the ones who didn't have a loving and supportive family? The ones whose parents didn't have enough money or time or knowledge to give them all the advantages I've enjoyed? The ones who, now, don't have access to the health care that I have access to, but are facing the same new motherhood I am?
My sister-in-law and her husband recently gave birth to a gorgeous baby girl who arrived about 6 weeks early. She didn't have to worry about the medical bills that may have resulted in the birth of a preemie, and will have a year off to bond with, breastfeed, and care for her baby. She will not have to make the difficult decision of putting her tiny baby into a day care center until the baby is almost walking. She and her husband won't have to worry about balancing new parenthood and work for a year. They will also, as a side note, not have to worry about putting away money for their baby's college education. Their lucky position in life comes from the fact that they were born in a country with universal health care, nearly-free education, and liberal maternity leave.
Why is it that access to things like maternity leave, higher education, and health care are dependent on luck? What have we done wrong as a country to allow luck to be a major deciding factor in a person's ability to access life's necessities? And why do we allow those who have been lucky to make sweeping political changes that affect those who have not?
It is my strong belief, now more than ever, that we need, need, need to reform our health care system even more, and I believe we need to offer universal care. And to start this, we, the lucky in America, need to acknowledge our vastly unearned positions and stand up for the ones who have not been so fortunate. We need to create a country that uses tax money to enhance the life of the people who live here, and to care for people who need extra assistance. As an almost-mother, I want nothing more than to bring my baby into a world that provides security, not anxiety, and opportunities rather than financial burdens and fear.
Sunday, August 7, 2011
The Last Blog-a-Day
Seriously, I don't have anything to say today. It was a nice day, complete with brunch with my parents, some grocery shopping, and a request to read at the wedding of two friends.
The thing is, I don't have a way to make any of that funny. I am compelled to write tonight because I said I was going to write every day for a week, but I really don't have anything to say. I'm all 'blogged out', squeezed of ideas and cleverness like an empty lemon peel. Ha, there you go, a cheesy metaphor to end the week.
Hope you're all doing well.
xo
The thing is, I don't have a way to make any of that funny. I am compelled to write tonight because I said I was going to write every day for a week, but I really don't have anything to say. I'm all 'blogged out', squeezed of ideas and cleverness like an empty lemon peel. Ha, there you go, a cheesy metaphor to end the week.
Hope you're all doing well.
xo
Saturday, August 6, 2011
"High School Reunion"
It's been 10 years since I graduated from high school. Yikes. Actually, that doesn't bother me. Since then, I've been to college, gotten a Postgraduate degree from a foreign university, lived abroad, married someone from another country, and am pregnant. Besides having a bunch of pretty good life experiences to show for the last decade, I also didn't have to worry about losing weight for the reunion.
Our class president made an attempt to arrange the 19 of us--oh, wait, you didn't know? My graduating class only had 19 people in it. Yes, really.
Anyway, he made an attempt to get the 19 of us together in our hometown, which promptly fell apart. I, being both cocky and foolish, thought I might have more success if I arranged a mini-reunion here in Minneapolis. I put out an invitation a couple of weeks ago for people to meet at Brit's for dinner, drinks, and maybe some rooftop lawn bowling.
No one responded.
Finally, about a week later, one person responded that she was coming. And no, that person was not Mary. I started to get a little nervous and thought, "Self, maybe you should just cancel this thing." But I, being oh-so-cocky, thought that I could still get this to happen. So I waited.
And waited.
Finally, two days before this thing, desperation set in. I sent out a plea for people to respond to the invitation, to merely indicate whether or not they would be attending. I wrote again later that day. The next day, I sent out my phone number in case anyone decided to show up at the last minute.
Finally, Mary said she'd go. On the day of the reunion (today), she asked if we could drive there together. I told her I had already planned on taking her so she couldn't back out at the last minute. She confessed that this thought had crossed her mind.
It had crossed mine, too.
But we went, and the only other classmate to respond showed up, and it was nice to catch up. And even though it was only the three of us old classmates (oh, and a very patient Chris), we represented 17% of our graduating class. We had dinner and talked about old high school stories just like you're supposed to at these things.
All in all, I'm calling this reunion a success. Look for the article about it in the next Pacelli newsletter. What's that? You don't get the Pacelli newsletter? It's OK, I made up the part about the article.
Hope you had a good night!
xo
Our class president made an attempt to arrange the 19 of us--oh, wait, you didn't know? My graduating class only had 19 people in it. Yes, really.
Anyway, he made an attempt to get the 19 of us together in our hometown, which promptly fell apart. I, being both cocky and foolish, thought I might have more success if I arranged a mini-reunion here in Minneapolis. I put out an invitation a couple of weeks ago for people to meet at Brit's for dinner, drinks, and maybe some rooftop lawn bowling.
No one responded.
Finally, about a week later, one person responded that she was coming. And no, that person was not Mary. I started to get a little nervous and thought, "Self, maybe you should just cancel this thing." But I, being oh-so-cocky, thought that I could still get this to happen. So I waited.
And waited.
Finally, two days before this thing, desperation set in. I sent out a plea for people to respond to the invitation, to merely indicate whether or not they would be attending. I wrote again later that day. The next day, I sent out my phone number in case anyone decided to show up at the last minute.
Finally, Mary said she'd go. On the day of the reunion (today), she asked if we could drive there together. I told her I had already planned on taking her so she couldn't back out at the last minute. She confessed that this thought had crossed her mind.
It had crossed mine, too.
But we went, and the only other classmate to respond showed up, and it was nice to catch up. And even though it was only the three of us old classmates (oh, and a very patient Chris), we represented 17% of our graduating class. We had dinner and talked about old high school stories just like you're supposed to at these things.
All in all, I'm calling this reunion a success. Look for the article about it in the next Pacelli newsletter. What's that? You don't get the Pacelli newsletter? It's OK, I made up the part about the article.
Hope you had a good night!
xo
Friday, August 5, 2011
Five Minutes
I literally have 5 minutes until I can clock out of this cubicle and go home for the weekend. Yes, maybe it is irresponsible for me to be doing this on paid time, but I have wrapped up for the week. Anything I start now would remain unfinished over the weekend, and really, what is the point of starting something you can't finish?
Yesterday was a pretty crazy day. We went to an ultrasound and got to see a 3-D picture of Sophie (there was a trainee helping with the ultrasound, so they did it for free!), and let me tell you, she is really, really cute. Well, the little portion of her face that we could see is really cute. I almost feel spoiled that I get to see her at this stage. But I'm not complaining. We already have a beautiful baby!
The most incredible, wonderful, MAJOR thing is that my brother and sister-in-law had their baby girl! It was a little bit earlier than anyone expected and it sounds like it was a bit of a surprise, but I saw a picture of baby Lucy and she is absolutely gorgeous. I just couldn't believe it. Chris and I are an uncle and aunt! It was the most excited I've ever been about a baby being born--our beautiful, little niece, Lucy.
There were some other things--great lunch on the rooftop at Joe's Garage, another doctor's appointment, some dog-walking, and Chris feeling Sophie kick for the first time (I have a mental image of the look on his face that I will probably remember forever), but I've got to get out of here. Sushi dinner (and the weekend) calls!
Have a good one.
xo
Yesterday was a pretty crazy day. We went to an ultrasound and got to see a 3-D picture of Sophie (there was a trainee helping with the ultrasound, so they did it for free!), and let me tell you, she is really, really cute. Well, the little portion of her face that we could see is really cute. I almost feel spoiled that I get to see her at this stage. But I'm not complaining. We already have a beautiful baby!
The most incredible, wonderful, MAJOR thing is that my brother and sister-in-law had their baby girl! It was a little bit earlier than anyone expected and it sounds like it was a bit of a surprise, but I saw a picture of baby Lucy and she is absolutely gorgeous. I just couldn't believe it. Chris and I are an uncle and aunt! It was the most excited I've ever been about a baby being born--our beautiful, little niece, Lucy.
There were some other things--great lunch on the rooftop at Joe's Garage, another doctor's appointment, some dog-walking, and Chris feeling Sophie kick for the first time (I have a mental image of the look on his face that I will probably remember forever), but I've got to get out of here. Sushi dinner (and the weekend) calls!
Have a good one.
xo
Thursday, August 4, 2011
A Blog About Babies No One Will Read
This is what my charming husband suggested I call this entry. I'm becoming one of those people who just blogs about their baby. But since I'm creating a miracle within my body and he is not, I win.
Having a baby had changed me in a lot of ways. No, not in some sappy, 'everything is right in the world' kind of way. I'm sure that will happen when the baby is actually wrenched from my nether regions and placed into my arms. But for now, the changes are mostly physical.
I've just gotten back from my doctor and have been told that I've gained 11 pounds since the beginning of this pregnancy. This is pretty good, I guess, but the thing is, we also just found out that the baby is 1 pound, 3 ounces. That means that there are 10 other pounds just hanging out. Oddly enough, most of them have gone to my feet. They've grown about half a size and I've been told this will not change. Goodbye, cute size 6 1/2 shoes. Hello, size 7s. But that's OK.
I did have some pretty terrible morning sickness in the beginning, too, but it's really calmed down. However, I still throw up on about 50% of mornings while brushing my teeth. It's odd because I'm fine at night. The smell of our garbage can and a sink full of dishes also does it to me. Otherwise, I'm fine...except for the Mexican food thing. Sorry, Mexico. Your enchiladas are no bueno to me now.
The best physical thing to change, though, is my belly. It's becoming more and more 'pregnant-looking' and less 'Freshman 15' by the day. And, most excitingly, I can feel Sophie kicking and rolling around in there. The other night, I was reading on the porch and it was very quiet. I started drumming a little on my belly, and I swear she started kicking right then. When I stopped, she stopped. I started up again, and she kicked again. So either she was really loving it, or else she was doing the baby equivalent of banging a broom handle against the ceiling when your upstairs neighbors are having a party. Either way, it was nice.
Hope you're having a good day today!
xo
Having a baby had changed me in a lot of ways. No, not in some sappy, 'everything is right in the world' kind of way. I'm sure that will happen when the baby is actually wrenched from my nether regions and placed into my arms. But for now, the changes are mostly physical.
I've just gotten back from my doctor and have been told that I've gained 11 pounds since the beginning of this pregnancy. This is pretty good, I guess, but the thing is, we also just found out that the baby is 1 pound, 3 ounces. That means that there are 10 other pounds just hanging out. Oddly enough, most of them have gone to my feet. They've grown about half a size and I've been told this will not change. Goodbye, cute size 6 1/2 shoes. Hello, size 7s. But that's OK.
I did have some pretty terrible morning sickness in the beginning, too, but it's really calmed down. However, I still throw up on about 50% of mornings while brushing my teeth. It's odd because I'm fine at night. The smell of our garbage can and a sink full of dishes also does it to me. Otherwise, I'm fine...except for the Mexican food thing. Sorry, Mexico. Your enchiladas are no bueno to me now.
The best physical thing to change, though, is my belly. It's becoming more and more 'pregnant-looking' and less 'Freshman 15' by the day. And, most excitingly, I can feel Sophie kicking and rolling around in there. The other night, I was reading on the porch and it was very quiet. I started drumming a little on my belly, and I swear she started kicking right then. When I stopped, she stopped. I started up again, and she kicked again. So either she was really loving it, or else she was doing the baby equivalent of banging a broom handle against the ceiling when your upstairs neighbors are having a party. Either way, it was nice.
Hope you're having a good day today!
xo
Wednesday, August 3, 2011
An Experiment in SEO
So, for a while, I was doing some SEO (Search Engine Optimization) writing on a very part-time basis. It was basically just re-writing articles for a company that would be published somewhere and would increase the likelihood that their site would come up first if someone would type certain search terms into Google. I actually don't understand exactly how it works, to be honest. I ended up just having a good time writing and getting paid for it for the first time ever, even though it wasn't all that creative. I used some of the money to buy things on Ebay and now have a ton of cheap, jade jewelery in all colors. Totally worth it.
In any case, I was thinking, how can I get people to read my blog without sending out a desperate plea on Facebook to my friends and family? It's kind of sad to ask people to read your blog (unless you're doing something really interesting like studying abroad or doing a stint in the Peace Corps, which I am not), but it's another thing altogether if someone just searches for something on the Internet and stumbles upon your blog.
I have this idea that if I start writing about controversial news stories in my blog, maybe it will come up when people search for information. This idea really took shape when, a few months ago, Chris was telling me that Piers Morgan was really the father of Prince Harry. I was stunned and immediately searched the Internet for more information. It turns out that, no, Piers Morgan is not rumored to be his father, but that someone named James Hewitt is. I was thinking, what if I wrote 'Piers Morgan is Prince Harry's real father' in my blog? Would someone else Google that and come across my blog? And through the magic of my SEO writing experience, I have managed to pepper those terms into this very paragraph three times. Sneaky, right? We'll see if that works!
The idea took shape further when Chris read a post I wrote last week that mentioned Michele Bachmann's husband running a clinic, which reportedly tries to counsel people out of being gay. He said, "Wow, I wonder if your blog will get any more readers because you wrote about Michele Bachmann and her anti-gay husband." Now, I'm not an expert on how the Internet works, but I would think that I would have to do more than make just a passing reference to Michele Bachmann's husband running an anti-gay therapy office in order for my little blog to show up in a Google search. But maybe it will work. Let's see!
I am going to judge my SEO success based on how many times this blog is viewed in the next week, and if I can find my blog by typing "Piers Morgan real father of Prince Harry" or "Michele Bachmann's husband runs anti-gay clinic" into Google. I think my readership usually averages out to about 10 per week, which amazes me to no end. Ten times a week, someone clicks over to this blog, thinking, "Hey, I'm going to see what that girl wrote, if anything." And I'm that girl! Incredible! I'll keep you posted about any success I notice.
Hope you're having a good day.
xo
In any case, I was thinking, how can I get people to read my blog without sending out a desperate plea on Facebook to my friends and family? It's kind of sad to ask people to read your blog (unless you're doing something really interesting like studying abroad or doing a stint in the Peace Corps, which I am not), but it's another thing altogether if someone just searches for something on the Internet and stumbles upon your blog.
I have this idea that if I start writing about controversial news stories in my blog, maybe it will come up when people search for information. This idea really took shape when, a few months ago, Chris was telling me that Piers Morgan was really the father of Prince Harry. I was stunned and immediately searched the Internet for more information. It turns out that, no, Piers Morgan is not rumored to be his father, but that someone named James Hewitt is. I was thinking, what if I wrote 'Piers Morgan is Prince Harry's real father' in my blog? Would someone else Google that and come across my blog? And through the magic of my SEO writing experience, I have managed to pepper those terms into this very paragraph three times. Sneaky, right? We'll see if that works!
The idea took shape further when Chris read a post I wrote last week that mentioned Michele Bachmann's husband running a clinic, which reportedly tries to counsel people out of being gay. He said, "Wow, I wonder if your blog will get any more readers because you wrote about Michele Bachmann and her anti-gay husband." Now, I'm not an expert on how the Internet works, but I would think that I would have to do more than make just a passing reference to Michele Bachmann's husband running an anti-gay therapy office in order for my little blog to show up in a Google search. But maybe it will work. Let's see!
I am going to judge my SEO success based on how many times this blog is viewed in the next week, and if I can find my blog by typing "Piers Morgan real father of Prince Harry" or "Michele Bachmann's husband runs anti-gay clinic" into Google. I think my readership usually averages out to about 10 per week, which amazes me to no end. Ten times a week, someone clicks over to this blog, thinking, "Hey, I'm going to see what that girl wrote, if anything." And I'm that girl! Incredible! I'll keep you posted about any success I notice.
Hope you're having a good day.
xo
Tuesday, August 2, 2011
The Woman and the Womb
It's my mom's birthday today! Happy birthday, Woman Who Gave Me Life!
My mom is pretty great. She's a runner (yes, you are), a Nordic-pole walker (and defender of the "sport" at family reunions), and the last time I heard, she was doing P90-X. I think she could definitely beat me up. But she wouldn't do that. She's too nice.
My mom is just drooling for the moment she can hold her first grandchild, and I can't wait to give her that chance. She was (is) a fantastic mother, and I can't wait to have her be little Sophie's grandma. I know that any success I have as a mother will be due in large part to her excellence as my mom.
Speaking of being a good mother, something I've been thinking about more and more is what to do after Sophie is born. I mean, not what to do on a daily basis or anything, although the thought of that is a little daunting at the moment. I'm talking about what to do for work.
From my past posts, you may have gathered that I have a sort of love-hate relationship with my current employment. On the one hand, I have great hours, good benefits, a relatively calm work environment, and am paid fairly for what I do.
On the other, my work day is riddled with pointless meetings, overly-explanatory emails, an excess of donuts, and long stretches of time that goes unused because there is too much bureaucracy involved in anything I do to allow me to be truly productive. It is not work that I feel a passion for, in short, but I know I am lucky to have it.
I've recently thought, "Self, why don't you try to write for money?" My mom suggested it, too, and Chris has brought it up as a realistic possibility, so I know it's not a purely crazy thought (because nothing is more valid than the support of two people who love you unconditionally...right?). It's just something that has been on my mind. And in fact, I've recently applied for a contract as a culture blogger for Slate.com, which would be an absolute dream in any life scenario, baby or no baby. If I could find a way to stay home and write, it would be killing two birds with one word processor. But realistically...what if I can't?
Meh, things have a way of working themselves out. I'm not losing sleep about it. I'm too busy losing sleep to back pain and thrice-nightly bathroom trips.
Hope you're well!
xo
My mom is pretty great. She's a runner (yes, you are), a Nordic-pole walker (and defender of the "sport" at family reunions), and the last time I heard, she was doing P90-X. I think she could definitely beat me up. But she wouldn't do that. She's too nice.
My mom is just drooling for the moment she can hold her first grandchild, and I can't wait to give her that chance. She was (is) a fantastic mother, and I can't wait to have her be little Sophie's grandma. I know that any success I have as a mother will be due in large part to her excellence as my mom.
Speaking of being a good mother, something I've been thinking about more and more is what to do after Sophie is born. I mean, not what to do on a daily basis or anything, although the thought of that is a little daunting at the moment. I'm talking about what to do for work.
From my past posts, you may have gathered that I have a sort of love-hate relationship with my current employment. On the one hand, I have great hours, good benefits, a relatively calm work environment, and am paid fairly for what I do.
On the other, my work day is riddled with pointless meetings, overly-explanatory emails, an excess of donuts, and long stretches of time that goes unused because there is too much bureaucracy involved in anything I do to allow me to be truly productive. It is not work that I feel a passion for, in short, but I know I am lucky to have it.
I've recently thought, "Self, why don't you try to write for money?" My mom suggested it, too, and Chris has brought it up as a realistic possibility, so I know it's not a purely crazy thought (because nothing is more valid than the support of two people who love you unconditionally...right?). It's just something that has been on my mind. And in fact, I've recently applied for a contract as a culture blogger for Slate.com, which would be an absolute dream in any life scenario, baby or no baby. If I could find a way to stay home and write, it would be killing two birds with one word processor. But realistically...what if I can't?
Meh, things have a way of working themselves out. I'm not losing sleep about it. I'm too busy losing sleep to back pain and thrice-nightly bathroom trips.
Hope you're well!
xo
Monday, August 1, 2011
Blog a Day
Chris likes to read my blog. He laughs a lot when he reads it, which is sort of strange because he doesn't often laugh at me in real life unless I'm doing something clumsy. I asked him about this, and he said, "I think you're funny. I just sometimes don't laugh because I don't want to give you the satisfaction." And then he hung his head in mock-shame.
Anyway, he thinks I need to write more. I told him I'd thought of trying to do a blog a day for a week to see how it goes, but that I didn't really think I had enough to write about that would be funny, or at least somewhat pleasant to read. He suggested (really helpfully) that I just 'write whatever is on my mind'. I referred him back to a conversation we'd had a while ago in the car...
After we'd been silent for the span of 5 or so miles, he commented that I was quiet. I had been deep in thought and said, "I was just thinking about the baby, and how having a baby is kind of like our major contribution to the world. When you have a child, you're sort of accepting the fact that you'll die someday, but that it's OK because you've left a piece of you behind. It's a natural step in a person's life and something that I think all humans kind of strive for. There was a psychologist named Erik Erikson who had a theory that people start going through these stages of development starting at birth, and almost all of the stages have something to do with striving for independence and being productive at every level of our lives. Having a baby right now is maybe our greatest possible level of productivity at this stage of our lives. It's kind of like accepting that we're like a dying layer of skin, ready to be sloughed off, but it's OK because there's a new layer, and there will still be a part of us left behind when we go."
When I looked over at him, he had a look of shock and annoyance on his face.
"What's the matter?" I asked.
"That's terrible!" he said.
"It is?" I asked. "I don't think it's sad. I think it's hopeful. You think that's sad?"
"Yes!" he replied.
We were quiet for a little while.
"Well," I said, "what were you thinking about?"
"Definitely not that."
I reminded him about that conversation and said that maybe just writing what I am thinking for a week wouldn't work out that well. He said I should maybe just write about that conversation.
And there you have it.
xo
Anyway, he thinks I need to write more. I told him I'd thought of trying to do a blog a day for a week to see how it goes, but that I didn't really think I had enough to write about that would be funny, or at least somewhat pleasant to read. He suggested (really helpfully) that I just 'write whatever is on my mind'. I referred him back to a conversation we'd had a while ago in the car...
After we'd been silent for the span of 5 or so miles, he commented that I was quiet. I had been deep in thought and said, "I was just thinking about the baby, and how having a baby is kind of like our major contribution to the world. When you have a child, you're sort of accepting the fact that you'll die someday, but that it's OK because you've left a piece of you behind. It's a natural step in a person's life and something that I think all humans kind of strive for. There was a psychologist named Erik Erikson who had a theory that people start going through these stages of development starting at birth, and almost all of the stages have something to do with striving for independence and being productive at every level of our lives. Having a baby right now is maybe our greatest possible level of productivity at this stage of our lives. It's kind of like accepting that we're like a dying layer of skin, ready to be sloughed off, but it's OK because there's a new layer, and there will still be a part of us left behind when we go."
When I looked over at him, he had a look of shock and annoyance on his face.
"What's the matter?" I asked.
"That's terrible!" he said.
"It is?" I asked. "I don't think it's sad. I think it's hopeful. You think that's sad?"
"Yes!" he replied.
We were quiet for a little while.
"Well," I said, "what were you thinking about?"
"Definitely not that."
I reminded him about that conversation and said that maybe just writing what I am thinking for a week wouldn't work out that well. He said I should maybe just write about that conversation.
And there you have it.
xo
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