We had an eventful weekend. There is much to say. So much that I don't know where or how to say it. I'm feeling blocked again, although I don't know by what. The impending move, perhaps? Dunno.
In the world of Official Officialness, Maddie and Riley are three. They had a party, they got bikes, it's real. The party was a low-key-to-be affair, with some family and some friends, just a brunch gathering at my mom and stepdad's house. I guess in the realm of kid birthdays, it was pretty sedate. There were no bouncy houses, there was no character theme. The cupcakes were homemade.
All of that was well and good, but there was one bit, a big bit, so more than a bit, that threw me for a loop: the gifts. No one went overboard, but there were still many, many gifts. Maddie and Riley knew there would be gifts and had been asking me incessantly in the days leading up to the event, "Mama, we gonna get presents on our birthday? Mama, there gonna be gifts?" The kids could not wait to start tearing off paper. Cards were snubbed, and the gifts themselves barely given a second glance before the next wrapped box was clawed, ripped, ravaged. Forget saying thank you.
Yes, it's the age. But I find it very uncomfortable, irritating, and embarrassing. I realize that this is my problem; I'm not good at giving or receiving gifts, and I also loathe consumer culture in general. It troubles me that Maddie and Riley want things, so many things, anything, in fact. They just WANT STUFF. The quality and condition of the stuff does not matter to them, they just have this inherent desire to possess things, which they often cherish for no longer than a few moments before discarding them and moving on.
I buy very little for Maddie and Riley. Why bother when they are content with rocks and sticks, bubble wrap and cardboard boxes. It's not that I don't want them to have toys, but I don't want them to think that we buy anything we want or that getting gifts is what holidays and events are all about.
I'm such a Scrooge. It's only gotten worse since John died. I used to take a certain pride in finding the perfect gift for someone; now it feels like a chore. John's death sucked the little joy I got from gifting right out of it. As a result, I've stopped, and I'm not shy about blaming it on widowhood. Pulling the widow card is not something I take lightly, but when it comes to gifting, I do it frequently. Even on occasions such as birthdays, when it is a social expectation that one will come bearing a token, I just show up empty-handed. It's rude, and I know it, but I can't seem to stop. Gifting is very tiring.
It's all especially rude in light of the fact that I've been the recipient of countless gifts since John died. I've received tangible gifts and the intangible gifts of love, support, and time. It's all meant a lot to me, but it hasn't yet inspired me to start giving back. I hope someday it will.
Maddie and Riley and I have been enjoying their new toys together. It was a good birthday, but a reminder of what a strange journey grief can be, and how grief comes out in unexpected and sometimes inappropriate ways.
30 June 2009
24 June 2009
Oh, "darn."
I just realized that I wrote my address down incorrectly on my POD permit. Guess I'll have to go back to the Department of Transportation office to get that corrected . . .
What a bummer.
What a bummer.
23 June 2009
So Tired
I opened my new bank account today. I have not been this tired in months.
I was going strong until 30 minutes into the process. The very sweet, very local-Oregon-boy customer service rep was cheerfully setting up accounts for Maddie and Riley when he innocently asked, "Do you want to name your husband as [blah diddy blah blah something about a trustee or something]?"
My reply? "Um, no, um . . . " I looked away. I mumbled. I might have even drooled. I'm not really sure. "I mean, um, yes, I'd like to, but he's dead."
As if that wasn't enough, I had to keep going! "He died. He's no longer with us."
Still, I keep going! "He had cancer. That's why the kids need accounts. For Social Security direct deposit!"
Then I just KEPT ON GOING. "It's awkward. Don't feel bad about asking. You didn't know. It's awkward. I haven't figured out a good way to say it."
I don't know why I was so caught off guard. For at least a year after John died, I went into all such situations prepared to be asked about my husband, prepared to say something simple and short, and prepared in advance for the emotional toll the interaction would take on me. This time, I just wasn't ready.
I'd been enjoying some pretty easy banter with the customer service rep, but after that exchange, it all kind of ground to a halt. By the time I finished blathering on, I was totally spent. Still am. Early to bed with me tonight.
I was going strong until 30 minutes into the process. The very sweet, very local-Oregon-boy customer service rep was cheerfully setting up accounts for Maddie and Riley when he innocently asked, "Do you want to name your husband as [blah diddy blah blah something about a trustee or something]?"
My reply? "Um, no, um . . . " I looked away. I mumbled. I might have even drooled. I'm not really sure. "I mean, um, yes, I'd like to, but he's dead."
As if that wasn't enough, I had to keep going! "He died. He's no longer with us."
Still, I keep going! "He had cancer. That's why the kids need accounts. For Social Security direct deposit!"
Then I just KEPT ON GOING. "It's awkward. Don't feel bad about asking. You didn't know. It's awkward. I haven't figured out a good way to say it."
I don't know why I was so caught off guard. For at least a year after John died, I went into all such situations prepared to be asked about my husband, prepared to say something simple and short, and prepared in advance for the emotional toll the interaction would take on me. This time, I just wasn't ready.
I'd been enjoying some pretty easy banter with the customer service rep, but after that exchange, it all kind of ground to a halt. By the time I finished blathering on, I was totally spent. Still am. Early to bed with me tonight.
22 June 2009
Nothing, and Everything
So when I said that I'd blog every day, apparently I meant every weekday, because the weekend went by with nary a peep from me. I actually sat at the computer a few times with the intent to blog and then lost the will. Father's Day did me in, I'm afraid. I felt compelled to write something deep, or at least touching, and I had nothin'. Not a thing.
One of Riley's favorite books for a while was Joseph Had a Little Overcoat, the moral of which is that you can actually make something out of nothing. I find that while I have nothing at all on Father's Day, that nothing feels like something, something that's blocking me up and keeping me from writing about anything else.
Two facts: (1) John only ever experienced Father's Day as a father-to-be; (2) John hated made-up holidays. The fact that he never got to experience a "real" Father's Day was troubling to me when Father's Day came around after he died, but by the same token, I knew he wouldn't have wanted to do anything to celebrate other than spend time with the kids and me. Besides, at that point the twins were about to turn a year old, I had just returned to work after a nearly two-month leave in the wake of John's death, and Hallmark foolishness was not particularly on my mind.
The next year, Father's Day was much harder. Maddie and Riley were about to turn two, we were in a rough spot developmentally and I was coming apart at the seams but pretending to hold it together. I felt John's absence last year acutely both from the standpoint of really wishing I had a partner in the very difficult job of parenting and from the standpoint of how much the kids were missing by not having John in their lives. John was an amazing person, and a very different person from me. In some ways, we were quite similar but in many we were complementary rather than supplementary. There's so much the twins would have learned from him and enjoyed about him, and Father's Day last year made me sad for them, for the loss they are not yet truly aware they have suffered.
This year, Father's Day was surrounded by plenty of distraction: the move, the new job, the limbo between houses. I confess—and it does feel like a confession, as though I've done something wrong that I need to absolve—that John was not much on my mind this Father's Day. I was happy to spend time with my dad and stepdad and other family and friends, but I spent little time reflecting on John or his absence. Some might see this as a sign of healing or moving on, but I think it's more a sign that I've got a lot on my plate right now.
*****************************
From nothingness to everythingness: today Maddie and Riley are three. Three whole years old. The family celebration will be this weekend, and the precious post-work dinner/bedtime sequence of events would have left an actual-day celebration of any substance feeling crowded and rushed. So as far as M&R are concerned, their birthday is not until Sunday. Growing up in a family of divorced and remarried parents, I'm used to celebrating big events on days other than their calendar occurrence, so this does not feel strange to me at all. Plus, three year olds have little to no concept of dates, or at least mine don't. So for us, this Sunday will be June 22 this year.
That said: HOLY SHIT MADDIE AND RILEY ARE THREE! They are glorious and wonderful and hilarious and perfect.
Three. Happy birthday, my babies.
One of Riley's favorite books for a while was Joseph Had a Little Overcoat, the moral of which is that you can actually make something out of nothing. I find that while I have nothing at all on Father's Day, that nothing feels like something, something that's blocking me up and keeping me from writing about anything else.
Two facts: (1) John only ever experienced Father's Day as a father-to-be; (2) John hated made-up holidays. The fact that he never got to experience a "real" Father's Day was troubling to me when Father's Day came around after he died, but by the same token, I knew he wouldn't have wanted to do anything to celebrate other than spend time with the kids and me. Besides, at that point the twins were about to turn a year old, I had just returned to work after a nearly two-month leave in the wake of John's death, and Hallmark foolishness was not particularly on my mind.
The next year, Father's Day was much harder. Maddie and Riley were about to turn two, we were in a rough spot developmentally and I was coming apart at the seams but pretending to hold it together. I felt John's absence last year acutely both from the standpoint of really wishing I had a partner in the very difficult job of parenting and from the standpoint of how much the kids were missing by not having John in their lives. John was an amazing person, and a very different person from me. In some ways, we were quite similar but in many we were complementary rather than supplementary. There's so much the twins would have learned from him and enjoyed about him, and Father's Day last year made me sad for them, for the loss they are not yet truly aware they have suffered.
This year, Father's Day was surrounded by plenty of distraction: the move, the new job, the limbo between houses. I confess—and it does feel like a confession, as though I've done something wrong that I need to absolve—that John was not much on my mind this Father's Day. I was happy to spend time with my dad and stepdad and other family and friends, but I spent little time reflecting on John or his absence. Some might see this as a sign of healing or moving on, but I think it's more a sign that I've got a lot on my plate right now.
*****************************
From nothingness to everythingness: today Maddie and Riley are three. Three whole years old. The family celebration will be this weekend, and the precious post-work dinner/bedtime sequence of events would have left an actual-day celebration of any substance feeling crowded and rushed. So as far as M&R are concerned, their birthday is not until Sunday. Growing up in a family of divorced and remarried parents, I'm used to celebrating big events on days other than their calendar occurrence, so this does not feel strange to me at all. Plus, three year olds have little to no concept of dates, or at least mine don't. So for us, this Sunday will be June 22 this year.
That said: HOLY SHIT MADDIE AND RILEY ARE THREE! They are glorious and wonderful and hilarious and perfect.
Three. Happy birthday, my babies.
19 June 2009
Unexpected
After work today, I went downtown to get a permit for my POD to be parked on the street at our new house later this month. The process of getting the permit was a snap compared to what I went through to get one in Massachusetts. That did not surprise me at all. One thing I won't miss about MA is the endless bureaucratic red tape that surrounds any and every process. Official State Business is much easier to conduct here in OR.
The Department of Transportation in Portland is in a newish building on the outskirts of the Portland State University campus. The signage on the building seemed to be PSU branded, but the DOT office must be a state office, so that was a little confusing. But I found where I needed to be and got the permit with no problem at all.
Here's the unexpected thing: the DOT was crawling with good-looking men. I have not seen such a high concentration of attractive guys in a long time. Like maybe forever. A cute guy held the door open for me on my way in. Another one helped me find the office I needed. A few were waiting in line at both the Permit office and the Cashier. Others milled about taking care of whatever business had brought them there. Another held the door open for me on my way out.
Once I left the building, it was back to nondescript reality. I'm not sure what was going on in the DOT, but I might just need to get a few more permits in the near future.
The Department of Transportation in Portland is in a newish building on the outskirts of the Portland State University campus. The signage on the building seemed to be PSU branded, but the DOT office must be a state office, so that was a little confusing. But I found where I needed to be and got the permit with no problem at all.
Here's the unexpected thing: the DOT was crawling with good-looking men. I have not seen such a high concentration of attractive guys in a long time. Like maybe forever. A cute guy held the door open for me on my way in. Another one helped me find the office I needed. A few were waiting in line at both the Permit office and the Cashier. Others milled about taking care of whatever business had brought them there. Another held the door open for me on my way out.
Once I left the building, it was back to nondescript reality. I'm not sure what was going on in the DOT, but I might just need to get a few more permits in the near future.
18 June 2009
Schedules
I can't get used to the Oregon Public Broadcasting schedule. When I was on my way home from a preschool open house tonight at 7:15, Fresh Air was on. In Boston, it would have been On Point. I'm a total National Public Radio junkie, and it's surprisingly disconcerting not to know what will be on when. Thank goodness Morning Edition and All Things Considered remain my commuting standbys.
My work schedule is filling up fast. Tomorrow I have meetings at 8:30, 9:00, 10:00, and 11:00, and then I go home because we only work until noon on Fridays in the summer! Woo-woo!
My weekend schedule is looking good. Coffee with high-school friends on Saturday afternoon, two women I have not seen in years. My dad is coming up here for Father's Day, so I'll get to spend time on Sunday with him and my stepdad, which I don't think ever happened when I lived in Boston. Father's day evening will be spent having dinner with some friends, friends who understand that Father's day can be tough for me, even though in theory I know it's just a made-up Hallmark moneymaker.
My work schedule is filling up fast. Tomorrow I have meetings at 8:30, 9:00, 10:00, and 11:00, and then I go home because we only work until noon on Fridays in the summer! Woo-woo!
My weekend schedule is looking good. Coffee with high-school friends on Saturday afternoon, two women I have not seen in years. My dad is coming up here for Father's Day, so I'll get to spend time on Sunday with him and my stepdad, which I don't think ever happened when I lived in Boston. Father's day evening will be spent having dinner with some friends, friends who understand that Father's day can be tough for me, even though in theory I know it's just a made-up Hallmark moneymaker.
17 June 2009
Children's Book Phrases of Which I Am Sick
He was a good little monkey, and always very curious.
"You wait here, George, and don't get into trouble."
It is easy for a little monkey to forget.
As only a monkey can . . .
Can you tell we are in a Curious George phase? I do love reading to Maddie and Riley and I am glad that they love to have me read to them and I understand that repetition is the Way of the Toddler, but yikes. Between reading the same books over and over and the fact that the George stories are the very definition of formulaic, I am getting weary.
It's Riley who is the real George afficianado. Maddie has more eclectic tastes, although lately she favors Arthur. Am I alone in my desire to smack Arthur's sister, D.W.? What does D.W. even stand for? And why must she have such an irritating personality?
A propos of nothing, how funny is it that UkeFest 2009 is taking place on Reed's campus this week? It's pretty hilarious to see all of these ukulele players wandering around campus, and small groups jamming in the corridors. I guess the organzier is a Reed alum and it's a sold-out event. Pretty awesome.
"You wait here, George, and don't get into trouble."
It is easy for a little monkey to forget.
As only a monkey can . . .
Can you tell we are in a Curious George phase? I do love reading to Maddie and Riley and I am glad that they love to have me read to them and I understand that repetition is the Way of the Toddler, but yikes. Between reading the same books over and over and the fact that the George stories are the very definition of formulaic, I am getting weary.
It's Riley who is the real George afficianado. Maddie has more eclectic tastes, although lately she favors Arthur. Am I alone in my desire to smack Arthur's sister, D.W.? What does D.W. even stand for? And why must she have such an irritating personality?
A propos of nothing, how funny is it that UkeFest 2009 is taking place on Reed's campus this week? It's pretty hilarious to see all of these ukulele players wandering around campus, and small groups jamming in the corridors. I guess the organzier is a Reed alum and it's a sold-out event. Pretty awesome.
16 June 2009
Not so Savvy
In line with my boss at the campus dining room today:
Boss: Stacey, have you met S0-And-So?
Me (extending hand): No, so nice to meet you! I'm the new managing editor.
So-And-So: I'm the executive assistant to the dean of students.
Me (feeling proud): Oh! I met him this morning!
S0-And-So: (perplexed look)
Me: Yes! Kevin introduced me to him when I was on my way in!
So-And-So (kindly): Um, the dean is on vacation this week.
I later realized that I'd met the dean of faculty in the morning. Oops. Students, faculty, six of one, half a dozen of the other.
Boss: Stacey, have you met S0-And-So?
Me (extending hand): No, so nice to meet you! I'm the new managing editor.
So-And-So: I'm the executive assistant to the dean of students.
Me (feeling proud): Oh! I met him this morning!
S0-And-So: (perplexed look)
Me: Yes! Kevin introduced me to him when I was on my way in!
So-And-So (kindly): Um, the dean is on vacation this week.
I later realized that I'd met the dean of faculty in the morning. Oops. Students, faculty, six of one, half a dozen of the other.
15 June 2009
Hospitality, Reed style
Waiting on the desk in my office: a lovely bag, decorated with the Reed griffin, filled with all manner of treats: a mug, a pen, not one but two chocolate bars, a mousepad, more candy . . . oh, and a pretty card, signed by my department.
Lots of new faces, lots of friendly greetings, lots of offers of help.
A delicious department lunch.
Plenty of time to settle into my new office, get familiar with my computer, fill out the load of forms from HR, and just take in my new surroundings.
The news that two of my department-mates run at lunch and would welcome my company! Plus, I have full use of the campus athletic facilities, including a pool, weight room, etc.
A gorgeous, sunny, warm, lovely day, probably the nicest day since I've arrived in Portland. In a way, this was a bummer since I had to be at work. But it sure makes a beautiful campus look all the better.
On the home front: a sweet, gentle nanny who was ten minutes early despite a rather lengthy commute on public transportation. Reports (verified by my mom, who works from home) of play-dough, a trip to the park, and lots of stories. I think I found a good one.
It was a good first day, but I'm tired. Time for a glass of wine, a little down time, and then early to bed with a good book.
Lots of new faces, lots of friendly greetings, lots of offers of help.
A delicious department lunch.
Plenty of time to settle into my new office, get familiar with my computer, fill out the load of forms from HR, and just take in my new surroundings.
The news that two of my department-mates run at lunch and would welcome my company! Plus, I have full use of the campus athletic facilities, including a pool, weight room, etc.
A gorgeous, sunny, warm, lovely day, probably the nicest day since I've arrived in Portland. In a way, this was a bummer since I had to be at work. But it sure makes a beautiful campus look all the better.
On the home front: a sweet, gentle nanny who was ten minutes early despite a rather lengthy commute on public transportation. Reports (verified by my mom, who works from home) of play-dough, a trip to the park, and lots of stories. I think I found a good one.
It was a good first day, but I'm tired. Time for a glass of wine, a little down time, and then early to bed with a good book.
14 June 2009
Arrived.
Have I already been in Portland a week? I have. Already a week, only a week, it's hard to say which. Both, I suppose. In any case, it's been a week, both long and short.
I've been meaning to post, but I'm playing that mindgame with myself, the one that goes like this:
Me: I could post tonight.
Gamer: Or you could read. Or watch TV. Or eat ice cream. Or eat ice cream while you watch TV, then read in bed.
Me: But there's so much to post about!
Gamer: Yeah, seriously. Where would you even begin? There's way too much to say. Think about it while you eat ice cream.
Me: I should at least post that we've arrived, safe and sound.
Gamer: But then one thing will lead to another and you'll be at the computer posting all night. When you could be reading. Or eating ice cream. Or watching TV! Remember: So You Think You Can Dance is on tonight.
Me: RIGHT. OK, so tomorrow on the posting.
I've learned something about myself since losing my job just over a month ago: I don't do well posting in the evening. I'm a daytime writer and poster, not an evening poster. I used to do most of my posting during the workday, when I needed a quick break in the action or when I was bored or when I was lunching. My days between jobs have been jam-packed with packing, organizing, calling, and logistics. I never needed a break in the action, and thus I never posted.
I start my new job tomorrow. I'm excited and nervous. While I know I have the experience to do this job and while I really enjoyed everyone I met during the interview process, my insecure core is seeding self-doubt. Reed is filled with Really Smart and Talented People, and the search for the position I'm starting was intense. They chose ME. Can I live up to the expectations? Gah, I hope so. We'll see soon enough.
But speculation, schmeculation. Here's what's been accomplished to get us settled in Portland! For starters, we have a house. We will move in over 4th of July weekend. Our house is amazing. It's four blocks from my best friend and will be an easy commute to work. It's roomy yet homey and it has a patio and it's right across the street from the school the twins will attend for PreK–8. The whole story of finding the house is rather amusing and serindipitious, but will be saved for another day.
We also have a nanny. I interviewed five people this past week. What a chore! I do not like giving nanny interviews any more than I like giving job interviews. But we found someone who I think will be good and if she turns out not to be good, we found other people who seemed good as well.
Our POD is on its way. There's another story. The movers (who I tipped, by the way) packed that thing to the gills, so much so that when the POD driver came to pick it up, he said, "DAMN! That one is HEAVY! My chains were creaking, and that doesn't happen but once in a blue moon!" I'll take that as a compliment. The POD should arrive on 18 June, in plenty of time for our holiday weekend move-in.
I miss my Boston friends, but I feel like I'm home. I am home, quite literally for now, which is going fine but I'll be glad when we get into our own space. In a more metaphysical sense, though, this feels right. I feel grounded. I feel calm and centered. Once I'm working instead of playing around, I might lose my balance a bit, but I already have a support system here to right me. We're where we are supposed to be.
I'm making a pledge to myself to post every day from now until . . . who knows, until I fall off the wagon. My writing is getting rusty, my thoughts jumbled. I need to get back in the habit. So look for short things, but things, every day for a while, at least.
Here's something I haven't posted in a while: a photo! After finally getting photos downloaded off my camera (another story . . . ) I have bunches of photos to share. Here's one, a goofy shot of M&R on Easter Sunday:
Both talking, as usual. Maddie is wearing her "clogging shoes." That's her moniker for any shoes that go clip-clop on the wood floors. Riley is probably talking about Curious George.
More tomorrow.
I've been meaning to post, but I'm playing that mindgame with myself, the one that goes like this:
Me: I could post tonight.
Gamer: Or you could read. Or watch TV. Or eat ice cream. Or eat ice cream while you watch TV, then read in bed.
Me: But there's so much to post about!
Gamer: Yeah, seriously. Where would you even begin? There's way too much to say. Think about it while you eat ice cream.
Me: I should at least post that we've arrived, safe and sound.
Gamer: But then one thing will lead to another and you'll be at the computer posting all night. When you could be reading. Or eating ice cream. Or watching TV! Remember: So You Think You Can Dance is on tonight.
Me: RIGHT. OK, so tomorrow on the posting.
I've learned something about myself since losing my job just over a month ago: I don't do well posting in the evening. I'm a daytime writer and poster, not an evening poster. I used to do most of my posting during the workday, when I needed a quick break in the action or when I was bored or when I was lunching. My days between jobs have been jam-packed with packing, organizing, calling, and logistics. I never needed a break in the action, and thus I never posted.
I start my new job tomorrow. I'm excited and nervous. While I know I have the experience to do this job and while I really enjoyed everyone I met during the interview process, my insecure core is seeding self-doubt. Reed is filled with Really Smart and Talented People, and the search for the position I'm starting was intense. They chose ME. Can I live up to the expectations? Gah, I hope so. We'll see soon enough.
But speculation, schmeculation. Here's what's been accomplished to get us settled in Portland! For starters, we have a house. We will move in over 4th of July weekend. Our house is amazing. It's four blocks from my best friend and will be an easy commute to work. It's roomy yet homey and it has a patio and it's right across the street from the school the twins will attend for PreK–8. The whole story of finding the house is rather amusing and serindipitious, but will be saved for another day.
We also have a nanny. I interviewed five people this past week. What a chore! I do not like giving nanny interviews any more than I like giving job interviews. But we found someone who I think will be good and if she turns out not to be good, we found other people who seemed good as well.
Our POD is on its way. There's another story. The movers (who I tipped, by the way) packed that thing to the gills, so much so that when the POD driver came to pick it up, he said, "DAMN! That one is HEAVY! My chains were creaking, and that doesn't happen but once in a blue moon!" I'll take that as a compliment. The POD should arrive on 18 June, in plenty of time for our holiday weekend move-in.
I miss my Boston friends, but I feel like I'm home. I am home, quite literally for now, which is going fine but I'll be glad when we get into our own space. In a more metaphysical sense, though, this feels right. I feel grounded. I feel calm and centered. Once I'm working instead of playing around, I might lose my balance a bit, but I already have a support system here to right me. We're where we are supposed to be.
I'm making a pledge to myself to post every day from now until . . . who knows, until I fall off the wagon. My writing is getting rusty, my thoughts jumbled. I need to get back in the habit. So look for short things, but things, every day for a while, at least.
Here's something I haven't posted in a while: a photo! After finally getting photos downloaded off my camera (another story . . . ) I have bunches of photos to share. Here's one, a goofy shot of M&R on Easter Sunday:
Both talking, as usual. Maddie is wearing her "clogging shoes." That's her moniker for any shoes that go clip-clop on the wood floors. Riley is probably talking about Curious George.
More tomorrow.
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