Wanna Win a Book?

Want to win a beautiful book for your kid(s)? One that you'll enjoy, too?*

A friend of mine, Tammy, is a independent rep for Barefoot Books, a company based right down the road from me in Cambridge, MA. Their books are gorgeous, gorgeous, gorgeous, multicultural, and did I say gorgeous? (Incidentally, their retail store is also an utter delight, so if you live in greater Boston, get thee over there, post-haste.)

Tammy has generously offered to give one of my readers the book of his or her choice. All you need to do is click through here, take a look around, and leave a comment letting me know which book looks most appealing to you. You have until midnight on Monday, February 2, 2009 to let me know which book you'd like to win. Two important things to know:

• Clicking through on that link will give you 10% off any purchases you make through midnight on Monday;
  
• Barefoot is having a big Winter Sale until midnight on Monday, so that 10% will be on top of already reduced prices.

In any case, on Tuesday, I'll pick a winner from the comments at random, and that person will receive the book of his or her choice for free from Tammy.

I don't do a lot of giveaways and promos on my site, but books in general are really wonderful and Barefoot books are especially wonderful. The company was founded by working moms, and they offer a better selection of multicultural stories than I've found anywhere else. They also have a good selection of titles in Spanish.

Go! Browse! Buy! And let me know what you'd like to win in the comments.

*Are my kids the only ones who consistently choose my least favorite books from our shelves? I swear, it's like they know which ones I detest and deliberately choose them any time we're reading. Like every night. And most mornings. And often throughout the day. I know that it's not all about me, but really, if I have to read Little Quack one more time, I might just go insane.

Choices

I finally heard from Madame President and CEO yesterday re: the job turn-down. She was . . . a little snippy, actually. If I may project, I think she felt confident that I was going to accept the position and was disappointed and angry that I didn't, especially after she made some concessions to accommodate my family situation. I can understand that, and I'm sorry if I wasted her time.

I read her e-mail just after walking in the door last night with Maddie and Riley. They were all bundled up and high on the joy of a fun day at school and a stop at the bakery for a cookie on the way home. They can take their own coats and hats and boots off now, which they do with pride. I read the message from Madame President and CEO (MP) as Maddie and Riley set off for the kitchen to drop off their backpacks before hitting the playroom for some quality time. I had a visceral reaction to MP's palpable disappointment. I actually started to cry. I went straight to some not-so-buried part of me that hates to do what people don't want me to do. I don't want to be a disappointment.

Then I thought, yet again, about why I'd made my decision. I'd made my decision for my family. I read that message at 5:00 p.m. If I'd taken that job, I wouldn't even be picking the kids up from school until 5:30 every day. Instead, I get to walk in the door with them well before that hour, and that's after spending some time chit-chatting at daycare and then fawning over cookies at the bakery. If I'd taken that job, I would have to leave the house at 7:45 every morning and the twins would eat breakfast at school. Instead, we sit down for breakfast together at 7:45, and I get to hear Riley make "jokes," such as his mischevious query this morning of, "Mama, can I eat the stove?"

This work/life balance thing is no joke. It was a tough to weigh a more challenging, intellectually stimulating job at a thriving company against two fewer hours per day with my kids and a dull job on a sinking ship. Would the mental health benefits of a job I truly loved make me a better parent, and thus make up for the time away from Maddie and Riley? Ultimately, I didn't think so. Not right now. And that line of thinking assumes that I would have loved the job. It's possible that I would have hated it, and then I really would have been in a pickle.

I've actually never felt more like a grown-up than I did when I realized that I'd just had to make a choice between my career and my family. Granted, it was a small-scale choice, much smaller than the choice between staying home and working at all, or totally changing careers to accommodate spending more time with kids or having to take a second job to make ends meet. But my little choice made me think about just how hard it is for parents at all levels to balance work and family life. So many people who want to stay home can't, or who want to work can't find a situation that will fit their family situation. This is nothing new, of course, but last night it felt very acute, and I was grateful that I'm in a situation where my job might not be all I want it to be, but it gives me a good balance.

I can't figure out how to end this post gracefully, but I have to end it now because it's time for me to go get those kids. We're off to my beloved Chipotle for dinner. Oooooh, yeah. Have a great weekend.

Memo to Today: It's Thursday, not Monday

I stayed home from work yesterday as the forecast was for all day snow switching over to ice pellets switching over to rain then the whole mess was set to freeze solid. I kept the kids home with me and we had a great day just wearing our pajamas and goofing off. Maddie and Riley took great naps while I shoveled the heavy, wet snow, and then after nap, I bundled them up and let them clear off the front porch with their pint-sized snow shovels. M&R love to wear their snow pants and hats and Gore-Tex mittens and get out in the inclement weather. I have created little New Englanders. How did that happen?

Today dawned sunny and bright, and we got bundled up and ready to go to daycare and work. We navigated our icy stairs and all got buckled into the car.

Which wouldn't start.

Evidently, I'd left a door ajar on Tuesday evening, so the battery had been drained by the interior light being left on. Crap.

I called AAA, who estimated a two-hour wait. It's been 1.5. As soon as I heard how long the wait was going to be, I threw the kids and their stuff into the stroller and hoofed it over to daycare so that I would not have to deal with AAA while the kids were around. I'm grateful that I live close enough to daycare to walk and that the sidewalks were passable, if just barely. Maddie and Riley thought it was a hoot to off-road in the jog stroller; we had to navigate some pretty impressive unplowed sections of sidewalk, so it was quite the adventure.

For now, I'm quite enjoying the morning. I got a call from the tow truck while I was at daycare letting me know that it would be about 90 minutes before they arrived, so I had time to stop at the store and pick up a few items we needed. I'm at home now with a latte and some breakfast. Hopefully AAA will be able to jump my car and I'll be on my way. At worst, I'll have to go see Paul, the friendly neighborhood gas station guy, for a new battery. Ideal? No. But all in all, not so bad.

*************************
One thing I've done today is turn down the job I interviewed for last week. I got the offer two days ago, and had a candid and productive conversation with the President and CEO about my situation and how it would affect my hours. She was surprisingly willing to accommodate that, to a certain extent, but after much thought I decided that a higher-stress job with somewhat longer hours and a very annoying commute was not for me. I'm sure I'd love the work and I feel somewhat guilty about taking things as far as I did and then deciding against the position. Ultimately, I didn't like that the job would infringe on my time with the twins. I don't want to cut back on our time together and I know they wouldn't like it either. I need to do what will keep me mentally as balanced as I can and physically as present as possible. Taking that job was not going to do that.

I sent a long e-mail to the CEO detailing my thought process and apologizing for taking so much of her time for a result that was not what she or I would have hoped for. I have not heard back from her.

I have a couple of other irons in the fire, job-wise. Who knows what awaits?

To Oregon or not to Oregon

I got a ton of rest over the weekend. Maddie and Riley and I spent both weekend mornings just goofing off at the house and wearing pajamas. M&R are getting so creative in their play and are starting to really love to play together. They turned our couch into a go-kart this weekend, loading it with stuff then fastening their seatbelts and donning life jackets (?) as they set off on their adventures. They played a silly game of "hold my pajamas," racing around the house while holding fast to the backs of each others' footie PJs. They shared their toys and collaborated on projects. I don't expect this to happen every weekend, but it's like we hit a new developmental phase and they suddenly realize the power of their collective minds. It's amazing and wonderful.

I thought a lot about the comments on my Stress post. One thing that keeps coming up is the idea of the twins and me moving back to Oregon.

It seems so obvious, does it not? Why not just sell the house, pack up my stuff, and move back? My parents are as helpful and wonderful as I make them out to be, and in my heart, Oregon is home. In fact, if all had gone as planned, John and I would be living there now. We had decided to move there the summer after our wedding, but once he was diagnosed and we had our ducks in a row with insurance and all, it just didn't make sense for us to move while he was sick.

But now, here I am, rattling around in a house filled with painful memories, far away from my family, in over my head with my mortgage, and potentially out of a job. It's the perfect time to go back.

I could go. I've thought about it. But things are never as simple as they seem.

For one, there's the little matter of employment and the related issue of health insurance. I work in publishing. There is essentially no publishing industry in Oregon. So I need to think about how I can apply my skills to other types of work or undertake a career change. I really enjoy working in publishing, and when the time comes to move back to Oregon, I'll be sad to say goodbye to my career, although at the same time, I recognize that it's just a job. Yes, I could freelance, but the market is just awful right now; most of my freelancing friends are sitting idle, and they're good. Plus I'm not designed to be a freelancer. I don't deal well with the uncertainty of the workload/money, and I'm not good at setting my hours and keeping with them. In any case, the unemployment rate in Oregon is 9%, so the market isn't good even for people with a career track. Then there's the insurance part of the equation. No job = no health insurance = very, very bad.

Yes, I could live with my parents for a while, and I'm sure that no matter when we move back, living with the 'rents for a while will be necessary and welcome. They could help me financially and logistically while we made the transition. But to move in with no idea about what I could do for work and no thoughts on for how long we might be staying is not reasonable to me.

And let's talk about all this help my parents could give me. My mom and m stepdad live in one city, the city we'd likely move to. My dad lives in another city, two hours south. My dad is retired, but very busy with traveling and hobbies. My mom still works full-time. My stepdad is about to retire and has a lifetime's worth of projects awaiting him. Yes, they would all help me in any way the could, but they could not drop everything and become my nannies and financial resources. My mom and stepdad also have two other grandchildren, my stepbrother's kids, with whom they spend a lot of time. My family and the friends I already have in Portland would be a tremendous help to me, but they are not a magic bullet cure.

I recognize that there will be no perfect time to move back, and my goal is to go before the twins start kindergarten, which gives me a few years. I have been giving thought to what I could do work-wise in Oregon to pay the bills (which will be lower in Oregon, but so are salaries) and give me time with the kids; I have some ideas, but they involve going back to school, and I've been looking into programs.

I recognize that part of not moving now is just my personality. I don't do well at all without a plan. Selling my condo is a first step in that plan, one that will give me some financial freedom to start tinkering with the next steps: saving for school if I go that route, getting the nest egg built back up if I want to buy a house again. I'm in a tough spot right now, facing many changes. For some people, and entirely new location might be just the right thing, but for me, I need to move a little more slowly. I don't think it will ever be easy to make the move back across the country, to leave behind an incredible network of support that we've built up, to say goodbye to the only place John and I lived together. But even knowing that it will never be easy, now does not seem like the right time to me.

If I stay here, if I sell the condo at a loss and move in with my friend, I can start saving money that will see us through the transition we will face when we move to Oregon. I can explore my options for work and start laying plans to go back to school if I go that route. In that situation, if I lose my job, it's not a financial catastrophe. I could consider part-time work, or a job that is less demanding and pays less money. I think the situation of living with my friend, while not a solution that would work for everyone, is one that could work very well for my family and for hers. I am not 100% certain that this is my decision, but it is the one that is emerging as the front-runner.

*************************
There were lots of great comments and questions on my last post ranging from creative ways to deal with childcare to queries about how we make ends meet each month. Because I have virtually no secrets from the Internet, and because I'm very open about finances, here's the deal.

A commenter asked about Social Security death benefits for the twins and me. We do recieve them. Well, the twins do. Since I'm working, I don't recieve anything. If I were to quit working, I'd receive a bit, but not a great deal, since there is a family maximum and what the twins are receiving is close to that. Currently, the twins' SS benefits pay our mortgage every month. My salary (doesn't quite) cover(s) daycare expenses, groceries, heat, electric, and all that stuff of life. John did have life insurance, but not much, and I dip into that every month to cover what my salary and the SS benefits don't.

The live-in au pair idea as an alternative idea to traditional daycare or nanny setups is a great one. Unfortunately, our house is too small. We have 1,100 square feet, two bedrooms, and one bathroom. I would love to be able to have an au pair join us, but space does not allow it, I'm afraid.

It seems like there were other questions, but I'm blanking on them for now.

Health Insurance

As a single parent, health insurance is a huge concern for me. It's a huge concern for everyone, but I'm the only one in our  household who can get a job that will give us access to coverage, or who has to pay for individual coverage, so I feel an especially heavy burden.

I love Atul Gawande. If you've never read his writing and you have any interest in topics medical, make haste. He writes with utter clarity on fascinating topics ranging from pain management to how to get doctors to wash their hands more often to itching.

Gawande is a contributer to the New Yorker, and has an article in the current edition about how the U.S. could make a switch to universal health care coverage. Fascinating, and timely. Definitely worth a read, no matter what your political persuasion.

Hello, my name is Stress. Nice to meet you.

I'm tired, physically and mentally. As mentioned in my previous post, this has been a busy week for Maddie, Riley, and me; we've had a social obligation of some kind every evening post-daycare, which has been lots of fun but also draining. Tonight we're meeting friends for pizza at our co-op playspace, which will be great but will also be another evening of schlepping in and out of the car and through the snow and such. It's fun to be out and see friends, so we keep doing it, but I can feel it catching up with me.

The running around wouldn't be so bad if my brain weren't in overdrive about what I think of as Grown-Up Stuff. The house: to sell or not to sell? The job: will I have one next week? Should I take the one I'm almost certainly about to get offered? Even when I'm not actively thinking about these things, they're back there, kicking around, taking up mental space, causing me to be distracted and irritable and, well, tired.

It occurred to me that there is a word for what I'm feeling right now: STRESSED. "Duh," you're all saying, "it's taken you until now to realize that you're stressed?" The answer, I'm afraid, is yes. I feel so weighed down by considering variables and weighing multiple unappealing choices. I'm not sure how to make the decisions I need to make, and I don't like making them without John. I've been yelling a lot lately, and the smallest thing will tip me over the edge. Yeah, the Grief Factor doesn't help, but right now it's quite simply the stress of daily life and big decisions that are making me edgy.

Regarding the house, I met with the realtor on Wednesday morning. He thinks I can get about $30K less than I paid for it, which will leave me with a check in my hand at the closing that's less than half of what I put down when I bought. His numbers are right on the edge of what had been my mental tipping point for selling, which puts me in a real pickle. What if I put it on the market and then can't get what he thinks I can get? As a number of commenters pointed out, if I go through the trouble of moving out of the house while it's on the market, then I'm going to be sorely tempted to take less money than I really want to just to be done with it all. 

What I need to decide, then, is if it's time to be done with it all at any cost. Yes, I'll lose nest egg money that would be my next downpayment when I'm ready to buy again. But the reality of my current situation is that I can't afford my mortgage. I'm spending more money than I make every month, and while I can cover that for a while with savings, it's going to catch up with me eventually. With my 10% paycut, "eventually" is not all that far down the line. If I sell and move, I'll actually be able to start putting money in savings every month rather than taking it out, with the possibility of that nest egg slowly getting built back up over time. As it stands, I'm losing money every month and staying in a house that might not gain value for years.

The daily reality of my financial situation is pressing given that I have no idea how long I'll still have a job. People are dropping like flies around here, and I'm one level of management removed from really knowing what's going on. I did interview for another job yesterday, and while the interview went really well, I'm not sure I can take the job. I currently commute about 20 minutes each way, and my in-office hours are only 9:30 a.m. to 4:30 p.m. to accommodate the twins' daycare schedule. This job I interviewed for would be an hour's commute each way, plus the expectation that I'd be in the office 40-50 hours/week. Yes, I'd make more money, but I'd never see the twins during the week. The extra money would be offset by commuting costs and the fact that I'd likely have to get a nanny, which would cost more than daycare to begin with plus I'd be paying her overtime. Additionally, I'd be taking the kids out of their beloved and wonderful daycare environment. So that's likely a no-go, although it's not even been offered yet so I'm putting the proverbial cart before the horse.

Even if this job is a no-go, be it on my end or theirs or both, the job-hunting process brings up a lot of fears for me. There is, of course, the general state of the economy and the fact that the number of people who want jobs far outstrips the number of jobs available. If that were the only concern I had, I would be much less stressed about this. I'm experienced and I interview well. I could get a job. But there's so much more to it than that. I have so many constraints on my time as far as being available for the twins. I need to drop them off; daycare opens at 8:00. I need to pick them up; daycare closes at 5:30. It's difficult for me to work regular overtime unless I can take work at home in the evening. I'd have to get a significant raise to afford putting Maddie and Riley in a daycare with extended hours or get a nanny, and I don't want to move them anyway. They are my kids, I am their mom and only living parent. I need to be there for them, but I also need to provide for them. It's a difficult thing to balance.

I don't mean to whine. I know many, many families are in situations harder than mine. I've just had all these thoughts swirling around in my head and I need to try to make sense out of them by writing them down. What's surfacing for me is this pull between what I want and what I have or can get. I want a job that challenges me and allows me to work with great people on interesting projects, but I want that job to be around the corner from my house and only require me to be in the office 9:00 to 4:30. I want to put my condo on the market and have someone be so captivated by it that they offer me more than I'm asking. I want universal health care. While we're at it, can I have a unicorn as a pet and a team of fairies that cleans my house and cooks my meals? Why not reach for the stars?

I told the realtor that I'd call him sometime next week with my decision. As for the job, I'll keep looking for something else, but for now it feels like the right decision for my life is to stay where I am, be glad I have a job and health insurance, and enjoy the time that my job gives me with my family. I'll either have my hand forced by getting laid off or I'll find something that fits my requirements, hopefully the latter.

We've got a pretty mellow weekend planned, which I need. I should have some time to physically relax, and hopefully I can find the switch to my brain to give myself some mental downtime. I could really use it. Anyone who knows the location of that switch should feel free to contact me directly, thanks in advance.

Bitten Off; Unable to Chew

There was one night when I was in the Peace Corps that I was walking from a fellow volunteer's house to my house, and I was so unbearably tired that I actually entertained the idea of just laying down in the middle of the road and taking a nap right there. "There's not much traffic and everyone knows who I am; no one will bother me," I thought.

Moments ago, as I was walking from the kitchen to my office, I had the same thought. "I could just lie down here in the hall and stretch out, take a nap . . . hardly anyone is in the office today. I'm sure no one would mind."

My brain is addled. My head is spinning with thoughts on the house (thanks for your comments on that; meeting with realtor tomorrow to talk numbers, marketing plan, etc.), my job (took 10% pay cut last week; have a few resumes out there and a few bites), and the inauguration (so exciting! so many happy tears shed while listening to the ceremony!). Friends were in town over the weekend with their three-year-old twins, which was fun but exhausting. Much good food and good wine were consumed, and the nights were short indeed. Last night, I hosted my book club, got to bed late, and then got up with a pukey toddler at 3:30 a.m. (no real illness, just a cough-gone-wild thing, to which Maddie is prone, but still had to clean her and the bed up . . . and the power went out while I was doing it). Between the emotional tumult and lack of sleep, I feel a little pukey myself, or at least like I'm coming down with a cold.

And there's no rest for the wicked. I'm double-booked on inauguration parties tonight, one with the kids and one after they go to bed. Might have to cancel one or both. The second is actually a date of sorts; it's a small dinner party, and the host is someone one of the other guests has been trying to set me up with for a while. If I attend, I, along with all the other guests, am expected to deliver a toast in honor of Obama's inauguration. Pressure! Yeesh.

Tomorrow I meet with the realtor, Thursday boasts a job interview and dinner with a friend. Friday is another dinner. Saturday is another party. Last week, I had nothing scheduled on any evening. I'm definitely in a feasting phase in the feast or famine of life. Of course, I can say no to/reschedule/cancel some the social events, and I might. I don't want to sound like I'm complaining about having lots of fun things on the docket. I'm just feeling a bit overwhelmed today. And tired. So tired!

This post is totally lacking in structure, so I figure there's no better way to end it than with a Maddie story from our trip to Oregon, one that makes me laugh every time I think about it and that I've been meaning to share since happened. Hope you enjoy it.

[Maddie is sitting on the floor of her room, stark naked, inspecting her vagina at very close range]

Me: Mads, what are you doing over there?

Maddie: I lookin' at my vagina, Mama.

Me: I see that. What do you see in there?

Maddie [pause]: Oh . . . money. And strawberries.

Me: ??? !!!

The Reality of the Estate

In short, the realtor does not think that I can get what I paid. We had a great meeting this morning (quote of the day, from the realtor, upon seeing my playroom: "Your biggest challenge is going to be staging." Yeah, no shit.), and we'll meet again at his office later this week or early next so that he can propose pricing, discuss a marketing plan, etc. I'll know the real deal then, but he knows what I paid and already told me that he doesn't think that will work out for me.

I'll save my hardcore thinking until the agent and I meet again, but it looks like I'll have a few options to consider:

1. Stay put and give the market a bit more time to recover. It's not like I hate my house or can't afford it* or need to move for some reason.

2. Consider renting the condo out. I can't rent it for what I'm paying for my mortgage. And if I don't use a property management company and I act as the landlord myself, I'll have to deal with the hassles of owning without the benefits of actually living there. That said, I think I could get enough in rent that I'd still save money if I paid half my friend's mortgage and also paid the difference between the rent and my mortgage. And if I did go with a property management company, I'd avoid the hassle of being a landlord. But I'd save less money. Ugh. Complicated.

3. Sell at a loss. John and I contributed some money to the downpayment and my dad also helped us out. To be honest, I don't care if I lose my share. I really don't. I don't have that money in my hand right now, and if I don't get it back it will be a theoretical bummer that does not change my reality. I have not talked to my dad about his share. That's his money, and I'll need to talk to him to see where he stands on that, but selling at a loss is an option I'm willing to at least consider, especially given how long it will likely take to wait the market out.

If I decide to sell, the realtor was of the opinion that it would be a lot easier for everyone if we weren't living there while it was on the market. An astute commenter had remarked on my last post that I could consider moving in with my friend before the house sold . . . and option that had not crossed my mind. S_ivan (the friend in question who sometimes comments here): we'll talk once I know more from my agent.

So that's the short version. Longer post on shared living spaces is brewing.

Confidential for Idol Fans: Despite the fact that I usually don't start watching until Hollywood Week, I spent last night on the couch with a bag of Doritos and a glass of wine for the entire two-hour premiere. I envision more of the same for tonight. My favorite last night was Stevie. My least favorite was Bikini Girl. That whole thing made me ILL. The blind guy totally made me cry—his story is so moving—but ultimately I don't think he has the talent to go the distance.

*Unless I lose my job, which is a real possibility, although even then it might be doable.

Tomorrow, 8:30 a.m.

That's when I'm meeting with a realtor to talk about the possibility of putting my condo on the market.

Emotionally, I am thrilled by the idea. I love my condo, but I don't love being a homeowner. It's great to be able to put holes in the walls or paint if I want to without asking permission, but it's also stressful to be responsible for every dripping faucet, every warping deck board, and every cracked window. My condo is in good shape—the kitchen and bath got a high-quality renovation right before we purchased, and I've made improvements over the years—but I feel pressured all the time to keep it that way. Maintenance takes time and money, both of which are in somewhat short supply for me right now.

I was never a person who longed to own a home. At the time we bought, it just seemed like the logical thing to do. Our apartment was being condoized so we had to move, and we were clearly going to be in Boston a while what with John having a new job and being in the middle of his cancer treatment. John was responding well to treatment and we'd talked about going forward with the IVF that ultimately brought us Maddie and Riley. Things were good for us, all in all, we were in a financial position to make buying a reality, and real estate still seemed to be a solid, if pricey, investment. So we bought.

Owning never brought me the special rush that it seems to bring a lot of people. I think I just had too many other things on my mind to really revel in it all. It's not that I don't have good memories associated with the condo. I do: bringing Maddie and Riley home; our massive, rain-soaked housewarming party; eating perfectly grilled scallops in our gourmet kitchen. Over time, though, bad memories have dominated the good. I go to bed every night in the room where John died. When I turn the corner at the base of the outside stairs, I recall pausing there once with John post-treatment so that he could throw up in the flowers. The walls of the house seem to have absorbed years of my anger and resentments. 

John and I bought our condo in not just the year, or even the quarter, that is now considered to be the height of the real-estate bubble, but the exact month. We closed in July 2005. I don't think we overpaid given the time. In fact, I think we got a good deal. But times have changed. What I need the realtor to do is give me an honest assessment of the situation. If he thinks I have a chance at selling to break even (or make money, but that seems doubtful)—not including improvements that I've made to the property—I'm going to list it. If breaking even doesn't seem possible, I'll wait a little longer, or maybe a lot longer, who knows, for the market to recover or to get to a point where I can financially weather a loss.

If the house sells, my plan is to move in with a friend of mine, a woman who was in the Peace Corps with me and who is a single mom by choice. Her daughter is two weeks younger than the twins. Their place would be cozy for all of us, but it could work. The three kids would share a bedroom and attached playroom, and my friend and I would each have our own rooms. The two main advantages I see to this system are that: 

• paying half of my friend's mortgage is way less money than paying all of my own mortgage
  
• we could function in some ways like a two-parent family, helping each other out with child care, grocery shopping, the emotional burden of parenting, etc.

Any roommate situation is potentially fraught with issues. Both my friend and I are used to having a lot of space of our own, and that could be hard to come by in cramped quarters. There are the ubiquitous challenges of Finding Mututally Acceptable Levels of Cleanliness and Noise. We'd face additional issues around parenting and discipline styles. I don't harbor illusions that this would be all easy, but I do think the pros outweigh the cons and that it's worth a try. In fact, I'm really excited about the idea.

Selling my condo certainly won't erase all of my bad memories, or take away my anger. But I'm really ready to let go and move on. I'm not one for new year's resolutions, but simplification is definitely a theme for me in 2009, and I think that selling the condo is a way to accomplish that goal. We'll see what the real estate agent thinks the market can do for me.

That Person

At dinner last night, my friend and I talked about our respective That Person. You know, That Person, the person you dated who wasn't even right for you, who might not have even been all that nice a person, who you're probably not even in touch with anymore, who—perhaps even unknowingly—ripped your heart out of your chest and stomped on it and then kicked it and then spat upon it for good measure. The person who still makes your heart skip a little, tiny beat when you think of him or her, and for whom it would fully stop beating upon actual sight.

For me, That Person is a guy I dated very briefly in college. My self-esteem was not exactly sky-high in college, and I could not believe that this guy—this incredibly intelligent, amazingly good-looking, popular, witty, guy—wanted to date me. Me! Me. I have a thing for The Smart, and Jeff had a huge dose of that, and he was not suffering in The Esoteric, a quality to which I , like so many college women, was inexorably drawn. He had this odd hairstyle that required the use of a miniscule rubber band, the type used by teens on their braces. He gave great backrubs (wink, wink). He would write messages in cereal on cafeteria trays, messages intended for the food service employees, urging them to rise up against their oppressors.

Our story is not very interesting. We dated for a brief bit, I went overseas to study in London, and while I was away, he got back together with his high-school girlfriend. He didn't handle the situation very well, but neither did I.

At first, I was simply sad and hurt and under the impression that I could never find anyone of his caliber who would ever want to date me ever again. Once I found the line for self-esteem and managed to get some, I realized that he wouldn't really have been good for me anyway. He's emotionally distant; I'm emotionally needy. He's not particularly good at compromise; I require give and take and middle ground. He's not a bad person, but he's certainly not the right person for me.

And yet, even knowing that, Jeff haunts me to this day. If his name shows up in my Inbox, I get That Feeling in my stomach. We've stayed in touch over the years, mostly through mutual friends, and increasingly infrequently, but any news of him is like a little treasure. If I were to see him in person, I'd be rendered mute for a few minutes, and then I'd say something stupid.

John was not That Person. I think you can have more than one That Person over the span of your life, but a key element of That Person is that they are not the right person. You want them to be right, you yearn for them to be right, if you could be with them, you would, even knowing that they are wrong and knowing it wouldn't end well. There is an unhealthy element to That Person, and John was, despite his flaws and my own, definitely a healthy choice for me.

Mr. Coffee, however, was That Person all over again. I was knees-weak attracted to him from the moment I saw him sitting in the coffee shop, waiting for me on our first date. You could argue that I was feeling the effects of not having been on a date for a long time, but no, I was the one who was there, and I assure you that it was something else. Mr. Coffee had The Smart. He had The Exotic. He had The Sexy. But he also had The Emotionally Unavailable, The Never in Town, and The Obsessed with Work. And so, much as I wanted him to be right, he was not. And so now he has earned the title of That Person, v2.0.

After a long silence between us, yesterday I sent him an e-mail telling him just that. He's in the throes of looking for a new job, perhaps not in this area, and my Spidey Sense tells me that he's started dating someone else. It doesn't matter. I'm happy to be at a place in my life where I can appreciate the time we spent together, the role he played in my life, the good that was there, and move on. It's tempting to be mad at him for prickishly just disappearing rather than saying goodbye, but I don't feel angry. I feel like I got what I needed from him, and now he's gone. I suspect he feels rather the same.

In some ways, it's good to grow up. I'm glad I didn't spend years of angst figuring out how to recover from the effects of That Person this time around. But if Mr. Coffee's name should show up in my Inbox again, or if I see him walking down the street, or if I find a piece of Swiss chocolate in the back of my cupboard, I know I'm going to get that rush, that contact high, that wistful sense of what was not. That Person never completely goes away.

EDITED: Moments after I posted this, I got an e-mail from Mr. Coffee saying that he has been exploring job opportunities all over the world and has has nothing but that on his mind. I can still feel the lurch in my stomach from seeing his message in my Inbox fifteen minutes ago. He left the door open for us to get together, and it's very tempting. The lure of That Person! It's like crack! But I am saying no because I am strong, wise woman. Sometimes it sucks to grow up.

My Week at the Movies: Film 2: Milk

Great movie. Sean Penn was fantastic, as was the rest of the cast. And surprise! James Franco has a big supporting role in the film! I love James Franco, and had no idea he was in the movie, so that was a bonus.

Before the movie, my friend and I ate dinner at an east African place in Waltham called Karibu. Evidently, the owners, Ugandans themselves, opened the restaurant to cater to Ugandan expats living in the area. When my friend and I walked in, we were the only non-Africans in the place. There were no menus, just a buffet table, staffed by a sweet woman who explained what everything was, took our order, and then brought us plates heaped with food. The food was good, although not fantastic, hearty and clearly authentic. Some was similar to food I ate in Gabon, some not. 

I loved that the whole scene was straight out of a little cafeteria that could have been anywhere in sub-Saharan Africa (but was instead in a Boston suburb). The Ugandan men were all sitting around the tables, chatting, and would occasionally get up to serve themselves something from the buffet. They conducted business on cell phones and grabbed sodas from the fridge. Two women shuttled back and forth between the buffet and the kitchen. A few fantastic t-shirts picturing the Obama family hung from the walls, along with art that I'm sure was imported from the homeland. It all brought back a lot of memories.

My Week at the Movies: Film 1: Rachel Getting Married

I love going to the movies. John and I went to the theater almost every weekend pre-kids, and going out to a show is one of the social things that I miss most about life before babies. 

It's no surprise, then, that moviegoing was a priority for me during this kid-free week. Last night I ventured out to see Rachel Getting Married. I loved it. It was so honest and unassuming. There were some Narcotics Anonymous scenes that made me realize how much I miss Al-Anon and how powerful recovery can be. The portrayals of both family love and family dysfunction were painfully real, and the overall themes of how to forgive oneself, how to live with guilt, and how to decide who deserves love hit very close to home. Highly recommended.

I think I'm taking tonight off of the movies in favor of dinner with a friend, but Milk is up on Thursday.

Chit-Chat

I've lived in Boston for nearly ten years now. It would appear that in that time, I've lost the art of chit-chat.

Oh, I can still hold my own making small talk at a party or on a first date or at a job interview or something. But I've become used to not talking to The Public. You see, in Oregon, you talk to everyone. The person who takes your order at Dairy Queen may end up knowing as much about your private life as your hairdresser. The teller at the bank probably knows what you gave your kids for Christmas. The checker at the grocery store might want to know where you got that cute new shirt.

Perhaps I exaggerate. But only a little. People in service industries talk to you in Oregon. I'm sure for some of them, it's part of their training to be chatty with the customers. But in many cases, I think it's just the nature of Oregonians.

It's not the nature of Bostonians. I remember when I first moved here and I tried to engage the woman ringing up my groceries in conversation. She looked at me like I was crazy. I tried again and again and again. I'd say I tried for a good few years. Every once in a while, I'd happen upon a naturally talkative soul, or another displaced northwesterner. For the most part, I was not outright rebuffed, but gently deterred. For a few years after I stopped trying to chat everyone up, I complied with the social norm but secretly felt hurt, as though it were something about me, not about the unwritten rules of society. Bus driver didn't say good morning? Must have been my orange hat or the look in my eyes.

After a few years of that fruitless stewing, I came to a point of acceptance, and, shortly after, genuine appreciation for the lack of banter. Why would I want the ticket seller at the theater box office to know what I ate for lunch? Some days, I didn't feel like talking, and on those days, with many people I encountered, I didn't have to. It was liberating.

On this particular trip back to Oregon, I found that I was hostile towards The Public for the first few days. I was defensive. When people tried to make small talk with me, my first thought was, "Why is this person talking to me? What does this person want from me?" Then I remembered that this is the Oregon Way. I tried to follow suit. But I've totally lost the touch. It seemed like everything I said was wrong. I thought what I was saying was right, but based on the "Are you a simpleton?" looks I got in reply, I must have been wrong. Saying "Good" in response to, "How are you doing?" was evidently too impersonal, but saying, "Well, I feel like I might be getting a cold, and I just can't decide if I should stay in Boston or move back to Oregon, there are just so many forces at play . . . " was TMI. I could not find the balance.

Sometimes I think that if Maddie and Riley grow up on the east coast, they will in some ways be little foreigners to me. People out here play lacrosse and go to private school and don't chat. People where I'm from play water polo and wear socks with their sandals and say hi to strangers on the street. After ten years, though, I've become more east coast than I sometimes realize or want to admit.

Every trip to Oregon brings up emotions related to going home, thoughts of moving back. As the twins get older, the idea becomes more urgent. They are old enough now to start making real memories of Oregon, to understand that it's a different place from home. If we are going to move back to Oregon, I want to do it before the twins start Kindergarten. Granted, that gives me 2.5 years, but the logistics involved in a cross-country move—selling a house, finding a job, finding a new house, saying goodbye, etc.—would need to be underway a year or so before the actual move.

I'm not sure what I want to do, where I want to be, what is best for us. But I thought about it more this time than I usually do. And I'll be thinking about it a whole lot more now that we're back.

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Make that "now that I'm back." Maddie and Riley are at my mom's house, being cared for by their Moo (my mom), their Plain Ba (my dad), and their Otro (Other) Ba (my stepdad).

I got home last night, to a dark, cold house. I was unpacked and settled back in within an hour. I made myself some tea, then looked for the twins in the playroom. Right. Not there. I called to check on them. They were fine. I hung up and stood in my living room with my tea. It occurred to me that I needed some dinner, so I went to Whole Foods and got some basic groceries, plus a wonderful, overpriced salad from their salad bar. Then I went to the Toys R Us next door and got a few things to send to the babies.

At home, I ate my salad and watched three episodes of House. I dreamed all night of the twins and tried to check on them when I got up at 2:00 a.m. to pee.

I feel like I thought I would feel, like something is missing. Because something is missing. I miss Maddie and Riley. It was nice to sleep until 7:30 (oh! the luxury!) and I'm excited to go to the movies pretty much every night this week. But I'm looking forward to Sunday when my mom and dad will bring them home.

I talked to my mom today, and she told me that Riley had been upset about something this morning. In classic Maddie fashion, his sister had gone to comfort him. What did she report to my mom? "Moo, he need his Mama." And I need you guys, too. See you Sunday.

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We had an amazing time in Oregon. More on it this week as I get settled back in and resume regular posting. I went totally dark while I was out west, barely checking e-mail and obviously not posting at all. It was a nice break. I read four books! And all were good! Awesome.