The day after I wrote the post about becoming a blog writing machine, I posted a video that I made for Finn's third birthday. It had his full name in the beginning of the video, but I decided to post it anyway. The next day, I got a comment on my family blog where I post nonstop pictures and videos and commentary about the boys. Someone left an anonymous comment on a very old post of Finn that shows him naked from behind. The comment was nasty. It called us disgusting parents for "tarting" out our son to the internet, and then alluded to what they would like to do with my boy. I did some investigating with my stat tracker and found that someone from Sweden left the comment, after doing a Google search for "naked boy". Because that was the name of the actual picture that I had saved on my computer, it somehow led them to that post.
The first thing I did after reading that comment was to take down the video on this blog. Even though it was "just" a comment, I felt somehow violated and scared that I was opening up my kid to risk. I'm generally pretty trusting of the internet and world in general. I pay my bills online, I don't shred every piece of paper I throw away, I do social media. So perhaps I'm just naive. Or maybe I'm just a wimp, and if I'm going to put my life out there online, I have to be prepared for everything.
Well, I'll tell you that although I did poke my head in a hole for a couple of days, I won't retreat indefinitely.
But where is the line? How much can I be open without opening myself to risk? Is this an impossible task?
Saturday, April 10, 2010
Tuesday, March 30, 2010
Good enough
I've never wanted to be a writer. In middle school, I was given high marks and my teachers loved me, but I think it was because I actually cared about school, unlike my boy crazy peers. Don't get me wrong - I was boy crazy too, but the reality that I would lose every privilege for low grades was a huge motivator (Damn you, parents who give a shit!)
In college, I took a creative writing class with 20 other students. You had to print a copy of your writing for every person in the class and everyone had to review your work. Then, in class, everyone got a turn to be critiqued. This may sound like your worst nightmare, but I actually loved it. Well, I loved the idea of it - but every single time it came around to my turn to be reviewed, the feedback was ALWAYS the same: "The piece was good." "Nice story." "No suggestions."
:: Crickets chirping ::
I found this maddening - no one hated it, but no one LOVED it either. Although it would have been hard to hear a bunch of criticism, at least I would have stirred people up. But mediocre? Gah.
I think this is why my blog goes weeks without a post. I am inspired to write constantly. But when I sit down and write it, I just don't think it's good enough, funny enough, engaging enough. Why do I care about a blog that's probably read by about 12 people? Who knows.
So, I'm stepping out of my comfort zone. I'm going to try to post with reckless abandon over the next month. I'm not going to do that weird NoBloJoDolo thing, but I want to just start saying what's on my mind without wondering if it's good enough. Here I go....
In college, I took a creative writing class with 20 other students. You had to print a copy of your writing for every person in the class and everyone had to review your work. Then, in class, everyone got a turn to be critiqued. This may sound like your worst nightmare, but I actually loved it. Well, I loved the idea of it - but every single time it came around to my turn to be reviewed, the feedback was ALWAYS the same: "The piece was good." "Nice story." "No suggestions."
:: Crickets chirping ::
I found this maddening - no one hated it, but no one LOVED it either. Although it would have been hard to hear a bunch of criticism, at least I would have stirred people up. But mediocre? Gah.
I think this is why my blog goes weeks without a post. I am inspired to write constantly. But when I sit down and write it, I just don't think it's good enough, funny enough, engaging enough. Why do I care about a blog that's probably read by about 12 people? Who knows.
So, I'm stepping out of my comfort zone. I'm going to try to post with reckless abandon over the next month. I'm not going to do that weird NoBloJoDolo thing, but I want to just start saying what's on my mind without wondering if it's good enough. Here I go....
Tuesday, February 23, 2010
Rushing
If I shower, pack my lunch and all my bags the night before, I only have to get up one hour before I have to leave. Between the time my fingers find the off button on my alarm to when they turn the ignition of my car, it’s a battle: me vs. willful toddler vs. unpredictable baby vs. time. Nurse, pump, pack, dress, console, urge, force. Rush, rush, rush. Everyone in the car, driving too fast, kids to daycare, then me to work. Work work work, lunch, work work work. I will the clock to move faster. “I want to see my kids! I want to pick them up!” So I race out of the office and scoop up the boys. Race them home. Rush, rush, rush. Dinner as soon as we walk in the door, and then straight into bath and then bedtime for the kids. Gotta get them to bed so I can get some things done. Gotta get ready for the next day! Rush, rush, rush.
This is my formula. Gotta get through it so I can get to the Next! Better! Thing! If we can just get to ______, everything will be better. Once Mike graduates and gets a new job, we’ll have more time and I’ll have more help and everything will be better. Once Will starts sleeping through the night, I will be able to think clearly and stay up later and everything will be better. Once I learn my new job, I won’t be so stressed out and everything will be better.
When am I going to learn to enjoy what’s here? Life can’t always be a rushing towards something better. At some point, I have to stop and just be where I am. Who cut my brake lines?
This is my formula. Gotta get through it so I can get to the Next! Better! Thing! If we can just get to ______, everything will be better. Once Mike graduates and gets a new job, we’ll have more time and I’ll have more help and everything will be better. Once Will starts sleeping through the night, I will be able to think clearly and stay up later and everything will be better. Once I learn my new job, I won’t be so stressed out and everything will be better.
When am I going to learn to enjoy what’s here? Life can’t always be a rushing towards something better. At some point, I have to stop and just be where I am. Who cut my brake lines?
Thursday, February 18, 2010
Secrets
I recently “came out”. I started using my real name on my blog. I even started going back and replacing all my fake names in my earlier posts, just to avoid confusion. Of course, it ended up being a much bigger job then I thought, so it’s only sporadically done, thus causing more confusion than it would have originally. Ah well, welcome to my life of half-assed good intentions.
I decided to do this for a couple of reasons. First, as I said in this post, I just didn’t want to come up for a made up name for my new little boy. I’m not sure why it didn’t bother me to create a pseudonym for Finn. Maybe because I was just getting to know Will? Who knows. The second reason was because I wrote a guest post on Stefanie Wilder Taylor’s site, Baby on Bored about what it was like growing up as a child of a alcoholic. My family has been fiercely concerned about keeping the secrets of our past regarding the alcohol and drug abuse. Although my mom is sober today, it is clear that we are not allowed to talk about it. I was concerned that maybe if I posted on Stef’s site with my real name that somehow, someway she would find it. Then, she would find my blog. And then, my family would be furious at me for sharing our dark secrets.
Then, I saw this, and it all just clicked into place for me. This is my life and the repercussions of keeping secrets can be devastating. She can keep her secrets. But I’m telling mine.
I decided to do this for a couple of reasons. First, as I said in this post, I just didn’t want to come up for a made up name for my new little boy. I’m not sure why it didn’t bother me to create a pseudonym for Finn. Maybe because I was just getting to know Will? Who knows. The second reason was because I wrote a guest post on Stefanie Wilder Taylor’s site, Baby on Bored about what it was like growing up as a child of a alcoholic. My family has been fiercely concerned about keeping the secrets of our past regarding the alcohol and drug abuse. Although my mom is sober today, it is clear that we are not allowed to talk about it. I was concerned that maybe if I posted on Stef’s site with my real name that somehow, someway she would find it. Then, she would find my blog. And then, my family would be furious at me for sharing our dark secrets.
Then, I saw this, and it all just clicked into place for me. This is my life and the repercussions of keeping secrets can be devastating. She can keep her secrets. But I’m telling mine.
Wednesday, February 17, 2010
Oh hey, that grass over there is WAY greener
My first week and a half of work can be accurately summed up into one word: Exhausting. I’m not one for summing up, so it was more like “oh my god, what was I thinking, hanging out in my pjs and watching cartoons was actually awesome, I feel like I’m going to fall asleep at any moment, please don’t fire me on my second day.”
The number one most painful thing is waking up to an alarm. I have the insane luck that Finn likes a solid 12 hours of sleep, so while I was unemployed, he was waking up at 8am. In order to get myself dressed, nurse Will, pump, get the boys dressed, eat breakfast, pack my lunch and pack the daycare bag for both kids, I have to wake up at 6. With the exception of one blissful night, Will has been waking up 4 times per night. FOUR TIMES. So, my brain is all “yeaaaaaah, I’m gonna need to stare at the wall for at least 2 hours today” and I’m like “No, actually, you are going to need to meet new people, remember their names, learn new skills, write coherent emails all while NOT falling asleep on your desk.” Needless to say, my brain and I are not getting along.
And the whining is in full force. This is hard. I’m tired. I miss my boys. I miss my husband.
I can honestly say that this is one of the hardest times of my life. Having 2 kids (and did I mention that one of them wakes up FOUR TIMES a night?), a husband who is working full time at a job where he works evenings and weekend WHILE going to school full time and then starting a new job where I have to like…think and stuff. From 6am until 8pm I am go go going nonstop…and then at 8pm I look around the dirty house and the piles of laundry and the bills to pay and the emails to return….and I choose sleep instead. And I ask myself….why was I so anxious to find a job?
Oh yeah, I like my house, eating food and having heat. Right. That. Okay, so there’s no going back.
The number one most painful thing is waking up to an alarm. I have the insane luck that Finn likes a solid 12 hours of sleep, so while I was unemployed, he was waking up at 8am. In order to get myself dressed, nurse Will, pump, get the boys dressed, eat breakfast, pack my lunch and pack the daycare bag for both kids, I have to wake up at 6. With the exception of one blissful night, Will has been waking up 4 times per night. FOUR TIMES. So, my brain is all “yeaaaaaah, I’m gonna need to stare at the wall for at least 2 hours today” and I’m like “No, actually, you are going to need to meet new people, remember their names, learn new skills, write coherent emails all while NOT falling asleep on your desk.” Needless to say, my brain and I are not getting along.
And the whining is in full force. This is hard. I’m tired. I miss my boys. I miss my husband.
I can honestly say that this is one of the hardest times of my life. Having 2 kids (and did I mention that one of them wakes up FOUR TIMES a night?), a husband who is working full time at a job where he works evenings and weekend WHILE going to school full time and then starting a new job where I have to like…think and stuff. From 6am until 8pm I am go go going nonstop…and then at 8pm I look around the dirty house and the piles of laundry and the bills to pay and the emails to return….and I choose sleep instead. And I ask myself….why was I so anxious to find a job?
Oh yeah, I like my house, eating food and having heat. Right. That. Okay, so there’s no going back.
Saturday, February 6, 2010
Magic tricks
My husband thinks that our house is magical. Well, I'm guessing this is what he thinks. I can't think of any other reason he would leave things around the house that he wants to disappear.
Example A: Finn still wears a diaper to bed and when he wakes up, he comes up to our room with his undies and my husband switches them out. Then, he puts it on the chest. Every morning.
Example B: This one is slightly more annoying. When he changes Will's diaper, he puts it on these shelves. You see the space on the right? On the floor is where the diaper genie is. Yeah.
Example C: Also, in Will's room, he throws his PJs on the foot rest. You see the closet door behind it? That's where the hamper is.
Example D: My husband thinks that Good Will does a pick up inside our closet, because every time he wants to donate his clothes, he folds them and put them on the floor. How convenient.
Example E: When I complained that he got hair all over the counter when he trimmed his facial hair, he started to trim over the sink. Thank goodness we got that worked out.
Example F: I am an obsessive recycler. So I guess I should be thankful he puts it on the counter rather than in the trashcan. He's always thinking about me.
Example G: He's always leaving these all over the house for me. What an ass.
Friday, February 5, 2010
Awesome, sorta
Holy crap, I got the job!
Have you ever seen that movie "Defending Your Life"? After people die, they go on trial to see how brave they were on earth and decide if they need to go back or go...to the next place (whatever that is). Their attorneys show clips from their life. In one clip, they show the main character role-playing with his wife about how he's going to negotiate salary for the job he's going to be offered the next day. He practices being a total hard ass, not taking a dime less than the money he wants. Then, the next clip shows him taking the first offer given to him. This was me. I told my husband that I was going to insist on a specific number - that I was worth it and I would fight for it...then they called me, offered me the job for less and I said yes in .02 seconds. Sigh. At least I have a job now.
I decided to do a trial run with daycare today, drop the kids off and spend the day with my husband. I was a wreck. I cried on the way, while we dropped them off, and several times over the next few hours. And here I thought I was ready to be away from them. Having kids is such a mind fuck. I don't think there could be a situation that MORE personifies "grass is always greener".
Anyways. I start on Monday! Yay! (mostly).
Have you ever seen that movie "Defending Your Life"? After people die, they go on trial to see how brave they were on earth and decide if they need to go back or go...to the next place (whatever that is). Their attorneys show clips from their life. In one clip, they show the main character role-playing with his wife about how he's going to negotiate salary for the job he's going to be offered the next day. He practices being a total hard ass, not taking a dime less than the money he wants. Then, the next clip shows him taking the first offer given to him. This was me. I told my husband that I was going to insist on a specific number - that I was worth it and I would fight for it...then they called me, offered me the job for less and I said yes in .02 seconds. Sigh. At least I have a job now.
I decided to do a trial run with daycare today, drop the kids off and spend the day with my husband. I was a wreck. I cried on the way, while we dropped them off, and several times over the next few hours. And here I thought I was ready to be away from them. Having kids is such a mind fuck. I don't think there could be a situation that MORE personifies "grass is always greener".
Anyways. I start on Monday! Yay! (mostly).
Friday, January 29, 2010
Point, Counterpoint
13 days after I had Will, I got a frantic text message from a coworker: "Dial into the conference bridge ASAP!" Turns out my boss - and co-owner of the company - was leaving. His reasons were cryptic and the office was alive was gossip. I just kinda shrugged my shoulders and went back to my delicious little baby. 3 days later, I get a call from my other boss, asking me to lunch. Because I'm cocky naive, I assumed that he wanted to talk to me about company strategy, since I was the most senior employee in our office. Wrong. Not only did he not feed me lunch, he actually said "I'm sure you saw this coming..." as he slid the severance agreement paperwork across the table. Um, no. Not really. Just gave birth 16 days ago, didn't really think I'd be losing my job. I had brought Will to the meeting because...ya know, 16 days old....and as my former boss left the room, I just looked at Will with tears streaming down my cheeks (see: Postpartum) and my mind went absolutely blank. I mean, WHAT to tha FUCK.
Fastforward nearly 3 months. After applying for about 80 jobs so far, I've had 5 job interviews (thank god for you, belly shaper) and by far my most promising one happened today. I have a second interview on Tuesday, and I just feel like this might be THE ONE.
Had I not been laid off, I would have been back to work for 5 weeks now. Instead, I've been spending day after glorious day in my pajamas surrounded by toys, burp cloths, and waaaaay too much Dora (River....Farmhouse....Castle! River....Farmhouse....Castle! River....Farmhouse....Castle! River....Farmhouse....Castle! YES, WE GET IT! YOU ARE GOING TO THE RIVER, FOLLOWED BY THE FARMHOUSE AND THEN THE FUCKING CASTLE! SHUT YOUR MOUTH, YOU WEIRD TALKING MAP). It's like groundhog day over here.
Cue internal struggle.
Stay At Home Mom Me: I am ready to go back to work
Working Me: Are you kidding? The last few months of pregnancy you were all "woe is me, I wish I could stay at home 3 months with the kids"
SAHMM: Well, yeah, but that was when I knew I had a job to come back to. Now, it's like this never ending series of days where I forget what it's like to pee in a room by myself.
WM: I can't believe you are saying this! You are bitching about wearing your PJs all day and hanging out with your kids? Poor you.
SAHMM: You have no idea! You get to drive in the car by yourself and have interesting conversations with other adults and eat your entire lunch while it's hot and go to the gym.
WM: Drive in the car? Is this the same 40 minute commute that you bitched about on a daily basis?
SAHMM: Well....yeah....but at least you get to listen to music and can hear yourself think.
WM: And sit in traffic!
SAHMM: Okay, okay, you're missing the point. All I'm saying is....I miss the other parts of me. The parts where people think I'm smart. The part where I could go to the gym on my lunchbreak and blast my iPod. The part where I was allowed to be a little selfish. And most of all, the part where I could miss my kids.
WM: Let me get this straight - You want to get up at 6am to get yourself and the kids out the door to daycare, pump in the bathroom at work, have crazy deadlines and annoying coworkers.
SAHMM: I just want to leave so I can want to come home.
WM: Dude, you are weird.
I want this job so bad. I'm ready to go back to hating Mondays, I'm ready to bitch about my commute, I'm ready to meet new friends and have new challenges and use my brain for more than just trying to come up with a creative craft to kill an hour before naptime. This has been an interesting experiment on if I want to be a SAHM. And do I? No. It has nothing to do with my level of love I have for my kids - these boys make my heart go places it's never been. And for them, it's time for me to go back to work - so I can miss them enough that I want to smother them with kisses and attention and love for the 3 hours I'll have them before bedtime every day and enjoy every single moment. Because I'm tired of having the conversation where I go "Finn, blah (blah = come here, eat your lunch, pick up your toys, stop making so much noise while your brother sleeps, put on your pants, etc etc ETC). Hey, blah! I saaaaiiiiid blah. Finn, if you don't blah RIGHT NOW, you are going to time out." Because really, all he hears now really is "blah".
So, wish me luck Tuesday at 10.
p.s....Stay at home moms: Mad props. Seriously.
Fastforward nearly 3 months. After applying for about 80 jobs so far, I've had 5 job interviews (thank god for you, belly shaper) and by far my most promising one happened today. I have a second interview on Tuesday, and I just feel like this might be THE ONE.
Had I not been laid off, I would have been back to work for 5 weeks now. Instead, I've been spending day after glorious day in my pajamas surrounded by toys, burp cloths, and waaaaay too much Dora (River....Farmhouse....Castle! River....Farmhouse....Castle! River....Farmhouse....Castle! River....Farmhouse....Castle! YES, WE GET IT! YOU ARE GOING TO THE RIVER, FOLLOWED BY THE FARMHOUSE AND THEN THE FUCKING CASTLE! SHUT YOUR MOUTH, YOU WEIRD TALKING MAP). It's like groundhog day over here.
Cue internal struggle.
Stay At Home Mom Me: I am ready to go back to work
Working Me: Are you kidding? The last few months of pregnancy you were all "woe is me, I wish I could stay at home 3 months with the kids"
SAHMM: Well, yeah, but that was when I knew I had a job to come back to. Now, it's like this never ending series of days where I forget what it's like to pee in a room by myself.
WM: I can't believe you are saying this! You are bitching about wearing your PJs all day and hanging out with your kids? Poor you.
SAHMM: You have no idea! You get to drive in the car by yourself and have interesting conversations with other adults and eat your entire lunch while it's hot and go to the gym.
WM: Drive in the car? Is this the same 40 minute commute that you bitched about on a daily basis?
SAHMM: Well....yeah....but at least you get to listen to music and can hear yourself think.
WM: And sit in traffic!
SAHMM: Okay, okay, you're missing the point. All I'm saying is....I miss the other parts of me. The parts where people think I'm smart. The part where I could go to the gym on my lunchbreak and blast my iPod. The part where I was allowed to be a little selfish. And most of all, the part where I could miss my kids.
WM: Let me get this straight - You want to get up at 6am to get yourself and the kids out the door to daycare, pump in the bathroom at work, have crazy deadlines and annoying coworkers.
SAHMM: I just want to leave so I can want to come home.
WM: Dude, you are weird.
I want this job so bad. I'm ready to go back to hating Mondays, I'm ready to bitch about my commute, I'm ready to meet new friends and have new challenges and use my brain for more than just trying to come up with a creative craft to kill an hour before naptime. This has been an interesting experiment on if I want to be a SAHM. And do I? No. It has nothing to do with my level of love I have for my kids - these boys make my heart go places it's never been. And for them, it's time for me to go back to work - so I can miss them enough that I want to smother them with kisses and attention and love for the 3 hours I'll have them before bedtime every day and enjoy every single moment. Because I'm tired of having the conversation where I go "Finn, blah (blah = come here, eat your lunch, pick up your toys, stop making so much noise while your brother sleeps, put on your pants, etc etc ETC). Hey, blah! I saaaaiiiiid blah. Finn, if you don't blah RIGHT NOW, you are going to time out." Because really, all he hears now really is "blah".
So, wish me luck Tuesday at 10.
p.s....Stay at home moms: Mad props. Seriously.
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