As in that was as far as I got yesterday before I had to stop. I chastised myself briefly, because this is, in part, to instill discipline in my daily routine. But it was brief because while discipline is a good thing, knowing your limits is just as important. Yesterday was just one of those days.
That's all, really.
But I'm giving it a try anyway. It has become clear that I am utterly and completely uninteresting until have a look of concentration. This goes for reading ingredients on the grocery, writing on my computer...well writing anything anywhere, anyhow...and yes, of course, going to the bathroom.
It doesn't matter that Monster's Inc. is playing for the nine billionth time (as reque...demanded), or the cats are walking dangerously close to the Opposable Thumbs of Doom. It's all about the look on mom's face. I know, I know, cherish these times. I do. I promise from the deepest part of my soul or I wouldn't be a stay-at-home mom.
Right now she has the The Throne all to herself. That is what I've come to call my criss-cross-applesauce legs because both she and my first grader have competitions to see who gets there first. It's all fun and games til mom takes one in the chin. This moment, at least, is not a competition, but a mostly nice moment we are sharing. She is watching her show and I am hunched way over her, looking over her head while she repeatedly hits the space bar.
I can hear it now, and, yes, it's a direct reference to the internet's most annoying "Are You Mom Enough" pile of parental guilt I have yet to see. Moms, it's ok to have your own thought that doesn't involve "Oh, my darling, you are the most interesting thing ever!" I really should save this for its own post, because I think I could go on and I am a beast of brevity. Just let me say, "Guilt off, moms. You're allowed to stay connected to the adult world."
Yes I think I will save it. Because, while every moment my child is awake is not one I have to observe, applaud and reward, I do drop everything for hugs and giggles.
I'm ready to move on to working with embedding links, and instead of nonsense, I thought I'd tell a story about a story about a trip I took so long ago, most sane people would have forgotten. It's 250 pages of completed work that I now need to come to terms with, and I swear to God if I hear one more person "relate" I'm going to lose my shit. That sounds mean, I know. But my experience was singular...as is each experience out there. Don't sell yourself short by making your life "just like" anyone else's. It's yours. And the chemistry inside you is part of what makes YOUR story original and singular. Embrace that. Cherish that.
Once upon a time, I was in my twenties. Early twenties, and like all proper twenty-somethings, I made questionable choices. I took a drive. A long drive, and it was terrifying, and beautiful, and exciting, and completely life altering. I'll leave it at that, because the real point of this entry isn't the drive--there's a whole book dedicated to that story. The point is to share something I saw along the way.
I had zero experience with Out West. I had never driven, flown, anything across the country before, so everything was new. I did my best to stay awake the entire time although I was driving half of the time (exhaustion is its own drug, by the way. I never underestimated the effects of sleep deprivation after that).
Skipping over larger parts of the continent (again, there's a book), we're at the Salt Flats. I didn't even know they existed until the moment we broke free from the Utah landscape and ended up here, or roughly in that kind of here; it's been 20 years or so. It was breathtaking.
We drove for longer than I can remember. Off to the right of the highway was a speck. The speck grew as we neared it. And became this giant sculpture. The driver at the time pulled over, and we got out to wander around, take a break and marvel. It didn't look like that as I remember...there were half broken globes on the ground that we climbed on. And there was no fence at the time.
A lot happened during that stop, and I've written about it quite a bit (even have a piece published that includes one treatment of that moment). I even took pictures of the thole thing, but the trip was so messed up that I never picked them up after they were developed. I kinda wish I had.
To see if this really worked.
Nap duration is a variable thing in my house. Sometimes Lokisdottir sleeps for a couple hours, leaving me with plenty of time to do stuff. Not very exciting stuff, but stuff nonetheless. A leisurely shower. A trip to the bathroom in *gasp* solitude. Sometimes the naps are 15 minute teasers that give me the false sense that I might be able to sit down. I haven't figured out how to predict which is to be which at this point.
Even more variable than the duration is the nap itself...Some days she starts with the eye rubbing at, say 10am. Others it's as late as 3pm, or about 15 minutes before I have to leave to pick up Baldursdottir, my first grader. If I'm wrong in my assessment, we start the routine from the beginning.
She rubs her eyes. Yawns. Asks for "Bunkee", "Doodoh", and "Bottle". I collect them. Make my way upstairs. "Ock!!" the box fan and the little oil heater ("Ock" means "on", "off", "get this off my hands", "get out of my way" and a variety of things that involve lots of screaming and hand gestures). Sit in the nice rocker my mother bought us when we had Baldursdottir. Wrap her up, adjust everything just so. The bottle empties and BOLT UPRIGHT SHE SITS. "Go!! Down? Doggies?" Haha!! She didn't want a nap. It was a con. I wish she knew I'd just hold her like that anyway and it doesn't require all that work. Ah well. Next comes:
Proof positive that whatever deity resides over this little parcel of the planet is a trickster. See above. Most "naps" end tragically and quickly. Also see above. I keep telling myself that whatever I want or need to do can wait til the kids go to bed, but every night I pass out cold in the chair with Lokisdottir, wake up at some point well past midnight and stagger in the direction of my bed with the firm promise that tomorrow's nap time will be better.
Lather. Rinse. Repeat.
I am also using this blog to see what my time looks like in reality. If I'm going to do freelance work, I want to make absolutely sure I have the right time to dedicate to it to do it right. The last few updates were while Lokisdottir was awake and playing quietly by herself. It didn't work out great, but it wasn't a nightmare either. Ok yesterday was a little bit of a disaster. She insisted on helping. So no, I can't let her watch a movie while I work. Not yet. Really she just wanted to sit in my lap, which made it far more interesting than is beneficial.
So,I've said what I wanted to say, done what I've wanted to do and she is still asleep. I guess I will go wash my floors or something.
I've noticed that my first header is bold, white, and big. Here's where I try to see if it's something I'm doing with code, or if it's just an affect of this blog. I'm sure I could ask someone or look it up, but where's the fun in that, anyway?
For further excitement, my toddler is plugging the earphones in to the laptop as I type. I'm pretty sure this is a game for her. Which is fine. Mostly. Rest assured I"m not ignoring her; she's mostly busy doing other stuff anyway.
Have I mentioned I'm pretty boring for now?
This header will be smaller, because the "h2" is a type, not just an organizational thing.If I'm wrong, well, it's not like the world will end, and I doubt anyone is actually reading this because, well, I just do.
Still doing most of this from memory feels awesome! My next post will better tackle links, or at least that's my aspiration.
I"m a stay at home mom with a very busy toddler who never sleeps, and a first grader who thinks sleep is stupid. I can't blame them. I wasn't much different.
Here I am trying to do this from memory...with any luck this will work. If not, well, I'm still learning. I'm funny like that, and that particular funniness really reared its head when I was waitressing.
I could not get orders right, I messed up the simplest things (like, "Excuse me I need a fork" and I would return with a spoon or a beer). I was horrible. It didn't help that I was working at a Chinese restaurant, and was yelled at in Chinese. Frequently. Then one day, all the other waitresses called in sick. It was a holiday. But I nailed it. Not only did I get every single order right, I didn't even need to write them down. No one in the kitchen yelled at me. I was magic. From that day on, I waitressed like I was born to do it. Even the Mexican dishwasher gave me a thumbs up.
So I guess the moral of that story is that I need to be pushed from the airplane and told to fly, even though I don't have wings. Or maybe I do and I don't realize it until my life depends on it.
The cool thing about this blog is it seems to coach me when I do something wrong. Kinda cool. "Close your tags!" it yells at me. Hmm. Now that I've exhausted my time (the baby walked in...which should be the title of this blog, really).
Moment of truth: Now I hit "publish" and see what I've created!
