Friends, I need some help. For the past few years, I have been using whatever facial moisturizer that my mother-in-law sent me. John had lots of trouble with his skin when he was sick, and she was always sending fancy skincare stuff to our house. Being lazy and cheap, I just used the stuff she sent and it all worked out OK. I'm finally out of moisturizer, though, and have been for the past two weeks. My skin is all dry and itchy and gross, but I'm overwhelmed by the choices when I look online or go to the drugstore. Any advice?
My skin is very sensitive and tends to be dry, but I am also prone to breakouts. I'd prefer something with SPF and something that I can use for day and night. If I can buy it at the local drugstore, all the better, but if it's available online, that's fine, too.
Hit me with your best shot.
02 October 2007
01 October 2007
Planning Ahead
I just signed up for NaBloPoMo. Look for a post a day for the month of November. Woo-woo!
Trying Again with the Photo Thing
I've been having trouble for a few weeks with my profile image. According to Blogger, if I post the image here, link to it for my profile, then take the post down, my image should stay in my profile. This works for me for about a week, then my profile image mysteriously disappears. I'm going to try leaving this post up to see if that makes a difference.
For the record, I have not yet gotten my tattoo, but I am planning to do so, perhaps the last weekend in October when my sister-in-law is visiting.
29 September 2007
Dopiness (Dopeyness?) Update + Rice Query
Babysitter showed up. It was really a comedy of errors. She was horribly lost and had left my number in her dorm room. Both of us called our daycare provider within minutes of each other and got on track. I'm still annoyed with her for being late, but it all worked out. I even had time to stop for much-needed coffee on my way to the yard sale.
Regarding rice cookers, I have one, and I love it. But! I like to cook brown rice, and my rice cooker does not do a good job with the brown. Is there something I don't know?
Regarding rice cookers, I have one, and I love it. But! I like to cook brown rice, and my rice cooker does not do a good job with the brown. Is there something I don't know?
Me = Dope (x 2)
It's 6:22 a.m. on Saturday morning. I'm supposed to be on my way to my twin club yard sale to work. The only thing is, I'm lacking a babysitter.
I called the intern from our daycare about a week and a half ago, and she agreed to come over today at 6:00 a.m. She's back at school now—a junior in college—but she'd told me that she was available for weekend sitting if I needed it. I asked if she wanted me to call and confirm, and she said no, it would be fine. She's really responsible, so I left it at that.
Now here we are, 25 minutes late at this point. Why don't I call her? Here's why I'm a dope. Her number is sitting on my desk. At work. I don't know anyone else who knows her except the woman who runs my daycare, and it's too early to call her.
I was hoping that by writing this message, she'd magically show up, but no dice. I'm annoyed with myself for leaving that number at work. I'm annoyed with her for not showing up like she said she would. Argh.
****************************
Two nights ago, I put a pot of rice on the stove to cook. I went in the other room to check my e-mail. (You can see where this is going.) About 30 minutes later, I smell something funny. Oh! The rice! I race into the kitchen to discover smoke coming out of the rice pot. I immediately turn the pot off and start opening doors and windows . . . but not before my smoke alarms go off.
My smoke alarms are wired into my electrical, so when one goes off, they all go off. I have alarms in my kitchen, hallway, entrance way, my bedroom, and . . . the twins' room. It was 9:15 p.m. and the twins were sound asleep.
I tried everything to get the alarms to stop going off: fanning away the smoke, turning the fuse off and on, pushing the reset button, trying to get the backup batteries out (I couldn't find the batteries). Finally, after about 10 minutes, the smoke dissipated enough for the system to reset.
The amazing thing? The twins didn't wake up! I still can't believe it. I'm grateful that my fire alarm system works so well, and I'm also grateful that the babies kept sleeping.
****************************
Still no babysitter. Crap.
I called the intern from our daycare about a week and a half ago, and she agreed to come over today at 6:00 a.m. She's back at school now—a junior in college—but she'd told me that she was available for weekend sitting if I needed it. I asked if she wanted me to call and confirm, and she said no, it would be fine. She's really responsible, so I left it at that.
Now here we are, 25 minutes late at this point. Why don't I call her? Here's why I'm a dope. Her number is sitting on my desk. At work. I don't know anyone else who knows her except the woman who runs my daycare, and it's too early to call her.
I was hoping that by writing this message, she'd magically show up, but no dice. I'm annoyed with myself for leaving that number at work. I'm annoyed with her for not showing up like she said she would. Argh.
****************************
Two nights ago, I put a pot of rice on the stove to cook. I went in the other room to check my e-mail. (You can see where this is going.) About 30 minutes later, I smell something funny. Oh! The rice! I race into the kitchen to discover smoke coming out of the rice pot. I immediately turn the pot off and start opening doors and windows . . . but not before my smoke alarms go off.
My smoke alarms are wired into my electrical, so when one goes off, they all go off. I have alarms in my kitchen, hallway, entrance way, my bedroom, and . . . the twins' room. It was 9:15 p.m. and the twins were sound asleep.
I tried everything to get the alarms to stop going off: fanning away the smoke, turning the fuse off and on, pushing the reset button, trying to get the backup batteries out (I couldn't find the batteries). Finally, after about 10 minutes, the smoke dissipated enough for the system to reset.
The amazing thing? The twins didn't wake up! I still can't believe it. I'm grateful that my fire alarm system works so well, and I'm also grateful that the babies kept sleeping.
****************************
Still no babysitter. Crap.
27 September 2007
Mac'n'Cheese Recipe
At Mar's request, here is my recipe for green mac'n'cheese. The measurements in here are total guesses, but it's pretty forgiving. I know that some people feel very passionate about the baked v. cheese-sauce-poured-over-macaroni methods. This recipe is of the latter variety.
SNICK'S GREEN MAC'N'CHEESE
1/2 lb. macaroni, cooked and drained (as I mentioned in my comments, I'm fond of Barilla Pasta Plus)
2-3 T. butter
2 T. flour
1-2 c. milk
2 c. grated cheese(s) of your choice
1/2 lb. green veggies, steamed until soft, then pureed very fine (I like to use the Trader Joe's frozen Greens with Envy)
Melt butter over medium heat in medium saucepan. Add flour and whisk. The next step is the important part! Add the milk in 1/4 c. or so increments, whisking like mad as you add so as to avoid lumps. Once all the milk in, you should have a thick, creamy white sauce. Stir in the cheese in batches; how much cheese you add will depend on your own taste buds. Stir in pureed veggies. Pour it all over the pasta and mix well.
As I said in my comments, I will freeze the final product in muffin tins. Once frozen, you can store the "muffins" in zip-top freezer bags. Each portion is about a meal (one "muffin" per kid" if they are in the mood to eat well. They take about a minute to defrost in the microwave.
Enjoy!
SNICK'S GREEN MAC'N'CHEESE
1/2 lb. macaroni, cooked and drained (as I mentioned in my comments, I'm fond of Barilla Pasta Plus)
2-3 T. butter
2 T. flour
1-2 c. milk
2 c. grated cheese(s) of your choice
1/2 lb. green veggies, steamed until soft, then pureed very fine (I like to use the Trader Joe's frozen Greens with Envy)
Melt butter over medium heat in medium saucepan. Add flour and whisk. The next step is the important part! Add the milk in 1/4 c. or so increments, whisking like mad as you add so as to avoid lumps. Once all the milk in, you should have a thick, creamy white sauce. Stir in the cheese in batches; how much cheese you add will depend on your own taste buds. Stir in pureed veggies. Pour it all over the pasta and mix well.
As I said in my comments, I will freeze the final product in muffin tins. Once frozen, you can store the "muffins" in zip-top freezer bags. Each portion is about a meal (one "muffin" per kid" if they are in the mood to eat well. They take about a minute to defrost in the microwave.
Enjoy!
You Just Never Know
[Warning: another toddler food post follows. Read at your own peril.]
Like many parents, I find dinnertime with the twins a little stressful. You just never know what's coming. The kids may suddenly hate something they had always eaten willingly. They might decide to engage in the ever-entertaining "throw the food overboard" game. They might decided dinner is for the birds and scream upon seeing the high chair. Who knows what dinnertime will bring? I do know this: it's a time of day when I'm just not up for drama or surprises. My patience is thin and my parenting toolbox is usually pretty empty.
I deal with this in a variety of ways. Avoidance is one. I'll just keep letting them play for five more minutes, then five more minutes . . . until suddenly it's twenty minutes until bedtime and they haven't had dinner. This strategy often backfires in that once I finally start serving them their meal, I discover that they are really too tired to cope and they melt down and eat hardly anything. Even though I know that I'm usually better off feeding them at 5:30 instead of 6:45, I still often wait, fool that I am.
I also tend to just serve them the same thing over and over and over. Granted, it's healthy and they usually eat well when I serve it, but I do start to feel a little bad about how often my kids eat my special green* mac'n'cheese with a hearty serving of fruit on the side. I also worry about limiting what they eat and whether or not that will cause them to become picky, but I'm too much of a wimp to deal with the whining, throwing, and refusal that often come with new foods.
(I learned from Emmie that kids can require twenty or more exposures to a new food before deciding if they truly like it or not, but it can be so hard to muster up the energy to deal with the refusal!)
Here's what the real problem is. Time for a confession. I'm really just worried about myself. I have convinced myself that if the kids don't eat a good dinner, they are going to wake up hungry in the night and disturb me, god forbid. Not wanting to deal with that—because gosh darn it, I need my sleep!—I give them something I know they will eat and move on.
Two things have caused me to seriously question my stance in the past few weeks. First off, a couple of weeks ago, Maddie and Riley decided that dinner was for the birds. It didn't matter what I fed them, they didn't want it. They wouldn't even eat Pirates' Booty! For almost a week, the went to bed with basically no dinner because I could find nothing they would eat. And guess what? They slept fine.
Then, at their 15 month checkup, our pediatrician verified what I've known all along. It's my job to feed the twins a healthy meal. It's their choice to eat it or not. I'm not a short-order cook. I serve, they eat (or not). If they choose not, they will make up for it later. I was too embarrassed to confess my fear that they would wake up starving and disturb me, so I kept my trap shut and went home determined to serve dinner and not worry. It was not my problem, right? Right. Yeah.
So Monday I serve the kids the standard: green mac + sweet potato + fruit. They ate virtually nil. I didn't care (at least not on the outside). They slept great.
Tuesday, they ate great (the meal they refused Monday), and slept great.
So far, so good, right? Last night I got cocky. I served them a roasted corn and black bean quesadilla, sweet potato, peas, and fruit. To my shock, they ate really well. Really well. They were like bottomless pits.
Then they didn't sleep for crap. Correction: Riley didn't sleep for crap. Granted, he has a cold, and I think he just felt yucky and wanted a snuggle. But still.
My point after all of this blathering on: it doesn't matter. I am finally truly coming to believe that there is no relationship between what I serve them for dinner, how much they eat, and how well they sleep. I think this is better than my revelation about coffee. I feel so free now, to serve them whatever, not worry about it, and (barring illness or teething or some other unforeseen circumstance) sleep well at night.
* I make homemade mac'n'cheese with lots of pureed veggies in it since the twins generally won't eat chunks of plain green veggies.
Like many parents, I find dinnertime with the twins a little stressful. You just never know what's coming. The kids may suddenly hate something they had always eaten willingly. They might decide to engage in the ever-entertaining "throw the food overboard" game. They might decided dinner is for the birds and scream upon seeing the high chair. Who knows what dinnertime will bring? I do know this: it's a time of day when I'm just not up for drama or surprises. My patience is thin and my parenting toolbox is usually pretty empty.
I deal with this in a variety of ways. Avoidance is one. I'll just keep letting them play for five more minutes, then five more minutes . . . until suddenly it's twenty minutes until bedtime and they haven't had dinner. This strategy often backfires in that once I finally start serving them their meal, I discover that they are really too tired to cope and they melt down and eat hardly anything. Even though I know that I'm usually better off feeding them at 5:30 instead of 6:45, I still often wait, fool that I am.
I also tend to just serve them the same thing over and over and over. Granted, it's healthy and they usually eat well when I serve it, but I do start to feel a little bad about how often my kids eat my special green* mac'n'cheese with a hearty serving of fruit on the side. I also worry about limiting what they eat and whether or not that will cause them to become picky, but I'm too much of a wimp to deal with the whining, throwing, and refusal that often come with new foods.
(I learned from Emmie that kids can require twenty or more exposures to a new food before deciding if they truly like it or not, but it can be so hard to muster up the energy to deal with the refusal!)
Here's what the real problem is. Time for a confession. I'm really just worried about myself. I have convinced myself that if the kids don't eat a good dinner, they are going to wake up hungry in the night and disturb me, god forbid. Not wanting to deal with that—because gosh darn it, I need my sleep!—I give them something I know they will eat and move on.
Two things have caused me to seriously question my stance in the past few weeks. First off, a couple of weeks ago, Maddie and Riley decided that dinner was for the birds. It didn't matter what I fed them, they didn't want it. They wouldn't even eat Pirates' Booty! For almost a week, the went to bed with basically no dinner because I could find nothing they would eat. And guess what? They slept fine.
Then, at their 15 month checkup, our pediatrician verified what I've known all along. It's my job to feed the twins a healthy meal. It's their choice to eat it or not. I'm not a short-order cook. I serve, they eat (or not). If they choose not, they will make up for it later. I was too embarrassed to confess my fear that they would wake up starving and disturb me, so I kept my trap shut and went home determined to serve dinner and not worry. It was not my problem, right? Right. Yeah.
So Monday I serve the kids the standard: green mac + sweet potato + fruit. They ate virtually nil. I didn't care (at least not on the outside). They slept great.
Tuesday, they ate great (the meal they refused Monday), and slept great.
So far, so good, right? Last night I got cocky. I served them a roasted corn and black bean quesadilla, sweet potato, peas, and fruit. To my shock, they ate really well. Really well. They were like bottomless pits.
Then they didn't sleep for crap. Correction: Riley didn't sleep for crap. Granted, he has a cold, and I think he just felt yucky and wanted a snuggle. But still.
My point after all of this blathering on: it doesn't matter. I am finally truly coming to believe that there is no relationship between what I serve them for dinner, how much they eat, and how well they sleep. I think this is better than my revelation about coffee. I feel so free now, to serve them whatever, not worry about it, and (barring illness or teething or some other unforeseen circumstance) sleep well at night.
* I make homemade mac'n'cheese with lots of pureed veggies in it since the twins generally won't eat chunks of plain green veggies.
25 September 2007
Not Proud
I raised my voice at Riley this morning.
I stayed up too late reading last night, and I was tired this morning. I knew my patience was thin. In fact, moments before I spoke harshly to the little man, I had been repeating in my head, "They are only fifteen months old. You are tired. They are not out to get you," over and over.
Ha ha, didn't work. Riley kept ripping his bib off and it was driving me nuts. Instead of getting a new bib, making it a game to get him to keep it on, or just letting him eat with it off (I mean, really, who cares?) I grabbed the (hard plastic) bib from him, slammed it on the table and said (loudly), "Riley! You need to stop. doing. that. right now!"
I'll say this: it got his attention. As soon as the words were out of my mouth, I felt like the world's biggest bitch, though. I did put his bib back on, apologized to him, told him that it's not right to talk to people like that and that I was tired and frustrated, but that he was not the problem. And I gave him a hug. As far as I can tell, he was thinking, "Yeah, yeah, where's my breakfast?"
I've been feeling bad about it all day. Poor little man. He didn't deserve that. I know it's not the end of the world, but I want to do better by Riley, and myself. Clearly, I don't like the way I feel when I do things like that. It's just hard when I'm tired and stressed and wish I got more breaks. It's hard to have three people in my life who deserve to be number one.
I stayed up too late reading last night, and I was tired this morning. I knew my patience was thin. In fact, moments before I spoke harshly to the little man, I had been repeating in my head, "They are only fifteen months old. You are tired. They are not out to get you," over and over.
Ha ha, didn't work. Riley kept ripping his bib off and it was driving me nuts. Instead of getting a new bib, making it a game to get him to keep it on, or just letting him eat with it off (I mean, really, who cares?) I grabbed the (hard plastic) bib from him, slammed it on the table and said (loudly), "Riley! You need to stop. doing. that. right now!"
I'll say this: it got his attention. As soon as the words were out of my mouth, I felt like the world's biggest bitch, though. I did put his bib back on, apologized to him, told him that it's not right to talk to people like that and that I was tired and frustrated, but that he was not the problem. And I gave him a hug. As far as I can tell, he was thinking, "Yeah, yeah, where's my breakfast?"
I've been feeling bad about it all day. Poor little man. He didn't deserve that. I know it's not the end of the world, but I want to do better by Riley, and myself. Clearly, I don't like the way I feel when I do things like that. It's just hard when I'm tired and stressed and wish I got more breaks. It's hard to have three people in my life who deserve to be number one.
23 September 2007
The Moment
I knew this moment would come. Experts and nonexperts alike agreed that it was only a matter of time. A big part of me didn't believe any of them, but another part of me had to acknowledge that it seemed logical that it would happen.
Over the weekend, I mourned John's death by being blindsided by an intense crying fit.
All things considered, I've been remarkably nonweepy since John died. I don't say that with pride; it's just an observation. In general, I'm a crier. Anger, frustration, irritation, sadness, joy, you name it: I have been known to express it with tears. Until this weekend, grief didn't fit the mold. Much as I sometimes wanted to, I hadn't had a truly cathartic crying fit about John. Oh, I've cried since he died, but not really about him. I've cried about daily woes and annoyances, but not about the deeper issue.
This time, it was all about John. Of course, it happened at an incredibly inopportune time. A couple of weeks ago, a friend asked me to be a reader at her wedding. I said yes without a moment's thought. What an honor! I love public speaking, so I wasn't worried about that aspect. And I was truly touched that my friends—poets themselves—would trust me to read a poem at their wedding.
I practiced at home, in the car on the way down to New York, in the school bus that delivered guests to the state park where the wedding took place. I was fine. I was a bit worried that my emotions would run high when I gave my introduction to the poem, but I ran through that a few times too and, by the time I arrived at the ceremony, I felt in control.
I underestimated the power of being at my first wedding since John died. Of seeing a friend walk down the aisle. Of the beauty of the day. How was I to know that my friends had chosen sunflowers, the same as John and me?
I was teary from the moment I saw the bride come down the aisle. My reading came at the beginning of the ceremony. I got through my introduction. I got through 24 lines of the poem. Then I got to the last three, and I started to sob. I don't think anyone at the wedding could understand these lines, from Whitman's "Song of the Open Road," through my tears:
Will you give me yourself?
Will you come with me?
Shall we stick by each other as long as we live?
My friends were wonderful; they gave me big hugs and just let me get through it. I felt bad for making such a spectacle at the beginning of the ceremony; they felt bad for being "insensitive" in assigning me that reading. I hold nothing against them, although I don't think they believed me when I told them so.
I was weepy for the rest of the ceremony and for part of the reception. Writing about it makes me weepy again. I'm glad I was in the company of friends, away from home, without the twins. All that allowed me to focus on myself. I know I needed that cry. I'm sure it will happen again. I just hope it's not the middle of someone's wedding.
Over the weekend, I mourned John's death by being blindsided by an intense crying fit.
All things considered, I've been remarkably nonweepy since John died. I don't say that with pride; it's just an observation. In general, I'm a crier. Anger, frustration, irritation, sadness, joy, you name it: I have been known to express it with tears. Until this weekend, grief didn't fit the mold. Much as I sometimes wanted to, I hadn't had a truly cathartic crying fit about John. Oh, I've cried since he died, but not really about him. I've cried about daily woes and annoyances, but not about the deeper issue.
This time, it was all about John. Of course, it happened at an incredibly inopportune time. A couple of weeks ago, a friend asked me to be a reader at her wedding. I said yes without a moment's thought. What an honor! I love public speaking, so I wasn't worried about that aspect. And I was truly touched that my friends—poets themselves—would trust me to read a poem at their wedding.
I practiced at home, in the car on the way down to New York, in the school bus that delivered guests to the state park where the wedding took place. I was fine. I was a bit worried that my emotions would run high when I gave my introduction to the poem, but I ran through that a few times too and, by the time I arrived at the ceremony, I felt in control.
I underestimated the power of being at my first wedding since John died. Of seeing a friend walk down the aisle. Of the beauty of the day. How was I to know that my friends had chosen sunflowers, the same as John and me?
I was teary from the moment I saw the bride come down the aisle. My reading came at the beginning of the ceremony. I got through my introduction. I got through 24 lines of the poem. Then I got to the last three, and I started to sob. I don't think anyone at the wedding could understand these lines, from Whitman's "Song of the Open Road," through my tears:
Will you give me yourself?
Will you come with me?
Shall we stick by each other as long as we live?
My friends were wonderful; they gave me big hugs and just let me get through it. I felt bad for making such a spectacle at the beginning of the ceremony; they felt bad for being "insensitive" in assigning me that reading. I hold nothing against them, although I don't think they believed me when I told them so.
I was weepy for the rest of the ceremony and for part of the reception. Writing about it makes me weepy again. I'm glad I was in the company of friends, away from home, without the twins. All that allowed me to focus on myself. I know I needed that cry. I'm sure it will happen again. I just hope it's not the middle of someone's wedding.
20 September 2007
The Here and the Now
My best friend is moving to Portland, OR.
Erk and I met our freshman year in college. After college, when I was in Peace Corps, we stayed in touch as best we could with letters, and managed to actually see each other a couple of times, once on a vacation to England and once in the US when I was home for Christmas during my third year. When we were both in grad school in different states, we talked every Sunday night on the phone.
Then, in 1999, we moved to Boston together. And here we have been ever since. Neither of us expected to stay here as long as we have, and both of us aspired to end up back in Portland, where I grew up and where we went to undergrad.
She's landed an amazing job. Great environment, great hours, great pay, great location. I am truly happy for her. She's worked hard for this.
But it's in Portland.
I have two main issues with this: (1) I am going to miss her something fierce, and (2) I am jealous as all get out.
As far as missing her is concerned, well, what can be done? I know we'll talk. She'll see my family a lot. And I have lots of other friends here to keep me company. But I'll still miss her and that won't be fun. She and I agree that it's harder to be left behind than it is to leave, and I'm finding it especially hard since I'm usually the one leaving. I'm not used to this role.
What makes staying behind especially hard for me right now is that Erk's departure brings into sharp focus an unsettled feeling I've had for some time now. I'm having a really hard time being satisfied with what I have in my life. It's easy for me to look at Erk's life and see two big things she has that I don't: a husband and a job she is really excited about in the city she wants to live in. My husband is dead and my job is pretty dead, too.
There are circumstances in my life that I can't change (e.g., John being dead) and then there are those that I can (e.g., my job). Perhaps oddly, I find it easier to make peace with the circumstances that are unpleasant, but beyond my control. If I can't control it, there's no sense in trying. While I may be sad or angry or who-knows-what-else because of it, all I can do is honor those emotions and take life as it comes.
It's those things that I can change that tie me up in knots. I could get a new job. I could move back to Oregon. But those are two decisions that would bring unknown and unforeseeable changes to my life. I can make pro and con lists and project and guess about what those changes would bring, but at the end of the day, I can't KNOW. I want to know. As much as it drives me crazy, my job has some perks (easy schedule, slow pace, close to daycare and home, flexible hours, reasonable pay). Boston has its selling points, too (I own a home, have loads of wonderful friends, an amazing daycare for Maddie and Riley, and a job in an industry that does not exist in Portland). I could gain more than I can imagine by making either one or both of those changes, but I could also lose a lot.
In the end, I'm not much of a risk-taker. I'm also busy and tired. But I'm also discontent, and I'm not sure how to fix that feeling without taking risks. I feel like I'm on the verge of a change, a big change, but I don't know what it is yet or how to make it happen. What I know for sure is that it is getting increasingly difficult for me to be at peace with what my life is right now, and Erk's move is exacerbating that feeling.
Erk and I met our freshman year in college. After college, when I was in Peace Corps, we stayed in touch as best we could with letters, and managed to actually see each other a couple of times, once on a vacation to England and once in the US when I was home for Christmas during my third year. When we were both in grad school in different states, we talked every Sunday night on the phone.
Then, in 1999, we moved to Boston together. And here we have been ever since. Neither of us expected to stay here as long as we have, and both of us aspired to end up back in Portland, where I grew up and where we went to undergrad.
She's landed an amazing job. Great environment, great hours, great pay, great location. I am truly happy for her. She's worked hard for this.
But it's in Portland.
I have two main issues with this: (1) I am going to miss her something fierce, and (2) I am jealous as all get out.
As far as missing her is concerned, well, what can be done? I know we'll talk. She'll see my family a lot. And I have lots of other friends here to keep me company. But I'll still miss her and that won't be fun. She and I agree that it's harder to be left behind than it is to leave, and I'm finding it especially hard since I'm usually the one leaving. I'm not used to this role.
What makes staying behind especially hard for me right now is that Erk's departure brings into sharp focus an unsettled feeling I've had for some time now. I'm having a really hard time being satisfied with what I have in my life. It's easy for me to look at Erk's life and see two big things she has that I don't: a husband and a job she is really excited about in the city she wants to live in. My husband is dead and my job is pretty dead, too.
There are circumstances in my life that I can't change (e.g., John being dead) and then there are those that I can (e.g., my job). Perhaps oddly, I find it easier to make peace with the circumstances that are unpleasant, but beyond my control. If I can't control it, there's no sense in trying. While I may be sad or angry or who-knows-what-else because of it, all I can do is honor those emotions and take life as it comes.
It's those things that I can change that tie me up in knots. I could get a new job. I could move back to Oregon. But those are two decisions that would bring unknown and unforeseeable changes to my life. I can make pro and con lists and project and guess about what those changes would bring, but at the end of the day, I can't KNOW. I want to know. As much as it drives me crazy, my job has some perks (easy schedule, slow pace, close to daycare and home, flexible hours, reasonable pay). Boston has its selling points, too (I own a home, have loads of wonderful friends, an amazing daycare for Maddie and Riley, and a job in an industry that does not exist in Portland). I could gain more than I can imagine by making either one or both of those changes, but I could also lose a lot.
In the end, I'm not much of a risk-taker. I'm also busy and tired. But I'm also discontent, and I'm not sure how to fix that feeling without taking risks. I feel like I'm on the verge of a change, a big change, but I don't know what it is yet or how to make it happen. What I know for sure is that it is getting increasingly difficult for me to be at peace with what my life is right now, and Erk's move is exacerbating that feeling.
17 September 2007
Etiquette
To my coworkers:
We work in a cube farm. It is common courtesy when you work in such situations to observe the Cubicle Code of Ethics. Many of you have been violating the Code. Please take the following suggestions to heart:
1. Turn your cell phone off. If you can't bear to be cut off entirely, at least turn it to vibrate.
2. We all take personal calls now and then. So we all end up overhearing things that are not for general consumption but that cannot be contained by the cube. Pretend you didn't hear these things. Don't ask about things you overhear and don't spread gossip based on what you overhear.
3. Speaking of personal calls, lunchtime is a good time to go somewhere private, turn your cell phone on, and make your personal calls. I don't want to hear the lurid details of your private life.
4. Don't yell, "So-and-so? Are you there?" over the wall of your cube. Just get up and look. It's good to stretch every once in a while and the yelling is annoying.
These are simple matters. Please take them to heart.
Yours truly,
An annoyed coworker
We work in a cube farm. It is common courtesy when you work in such situations to observe the Cubicle Code of Ethics. Many of you have been violating the Code. Please take the following suggestions to heart:
1. Turn your cell phone off. If you can't bear to be cut off entirely, at least turn it to vibrate.
2. We all take personal calls now and then. So we all end up overhearing things that are not for general consumption but that cannot be contained by the cube. Pretend you didn't hear these things. Don't ask about things you overhear and don't spread gossip based on what you overhear.
3. Speaking of personal calls, lunchtime is a good time to go somewhere private, turn your cell phone on, and make your personal calls. I don't want to hear the lurid details of your private life.
4. Don't yell, "So-and-so? Are you there?" over the wall of your cube. Just get up and look. It's good to stretch every once in a while and the yelling is annoying.
These are simple matters. Please take them to heart.
Yours truly,
An annoyed coworker
16 September 2007
Losing It
I had brunch today with some friends from Peace Corps. Those of us in greater Boston—and by "greater Boston," I mean New England—try to get together a couple of times a year. We've known each other for 13 years now, and it's always good to catch up.
Today, only a few of us could make it. We all have kids now, so it was pretty crazy trying to keep tabs on all the little ones and get the children and adults fed. I had not seen one of the couples there since I was pregnant. We chatted some, and John's name even came up a few times, but not once did either of them say so much as "I'm sorry."
I found that incredibly hurtful. I know it can be awkward to know what to say, but I'm also tired of being understanding and cutting people slack about that. I'm the one who suffered a loss, people. I'm sick of feeling like I'm the one who has to offer comfort because the people who should be comforting me feel awkward.
This same couple expressed an interest in getting a group photo before everyone had to head home. Maddie and Riley were getting very impatient, so I got packed up and said a few times, "So, are we doing a picture?" Discussion ensued: couch? outdoors? The twins were really ready to go. I finally lost it and just said, "Look, this is ridiculous, we need to go home. We're out for the photo." It took me getting all over-reactive and teary in the car to realize that the photo was not the issue. It was the fact that these friends could not acknowledge my loss. I'm (obviously) still stewing about it, but the anger is dissipating. But seriously, what is wrong with people?
Today, only a few of us could make it. We all have kids now, so it was pretty crazy trying to keep tabs on all the little ones and get the children and adults fed. I had not seen one of the couples there since I was pregnant. We chatted some, and John's name even came up a few times, but not once did either of them say so much as "I'm sorry."
I found that incredibly hurtful. I know it can be awkward to know what to say, but I'm also tired of being understanding and cutting people slack about that. I'm the one who suffered a loss, people. I'm sick of feeling like I'm the one who has to offer comfort because the people who should be comforting me feel awkward.
This same couple expressed an interest in getting a group photo before everyone had to head home. Maddie and Riley were getting very impatient, so I got packed up and said a few times, "So, are we doing a picture?" Discussion ensued: couch? outdoors? The twins were really ready to go. I finally lost it and just said, "Look, this is ridiculous, we need to go home. We're out for the photo." It took me getting all over-reactive and teary in the car to realize that the photo was not the issue. It was the fact that these friends could not acknowledge my loss. I'm (obviously) still stewing about it, but the anger is dissipating. But seriously, what is wrong with people?
14 September 2007
Menstruation and Tofu Dogs
Do I have your attention now?
I never thought I'd be telling the Internet about my period, but hey, here I am. Hi, Internet! I'm going to tell you about my period now. I wouldn't bother, because really boring, right? And gross. Think of this more as a public service announcement. In fact, it's not really about my period specifically, just something period-related. Here's the thing: you all need to know about the DivaCup. My best friend, Erk (alas, no blog to link to), got one and was all up in my grille about getting one. I finally caved, and holy fucking cow what took me so long? It's awesome. I'm using it for the first time today. I'd go on about it, but just read about it on the website. And trust me: it's not as icky as you might think. The insertion is nothing, and the removal is manageable. You need to be comfortable with your girl parts, but shouldn't we all feel comfortable with our girl parts?
Check it out. Trust me on this.
(FYI, I was a committed OB tampon user prior to switching to the Diva.)
*****************************
What about the tofu dogs? you ask. Well, let me tell you. I'll even make a transition from the DivaCup to Smart Dogs. Here goes: The DivaCup is something I thought might be gross, but wasn't. The Smart Dog is something I thought would be good, but was gross.
Ugh. I should have known better. The phrase tofu hot dog really doesn't inspire confidence, does it?
Here's what happened. I went grocery shopping at Stop'N'Shop, a local store that I hate, but to which I have a bunch of gift cards given to me by my generous coworkers. As I'm cruising the aisles, I happen by the meatless meat section, and the dogs catch my eye. The twins and I eat veggie at home (although we eat meat out, which I guess makes us flexitarians, which sounds pretentious and makes me feel a little lame, but whatever), and I thought, "Hey! Smart Dogs! Easy way to get (overprocessed) protein (and salt salt salt) into the twins!"
So tonight I included tofu dog rounds with their meal. I didn't taste them first, and whooooo boy, if I had, the twins never would have. I try not to let my own food biases get in the way of what the twins eat. I feed them papaya, for example, even though I think it tastes like vomit. But I won't feed them anything that's just not fit for human consumption, and these dogs fit the bill. GROSS. Awful taste, awful texture. Awful. Never again! Consider yourself warned.
I never thought I'd be telling the Internet about my period, but hey, here I am. Hi, Internet! I'm going to tell you about my period now. I wouldn't bother, because really boring, right? And gross. Think of this more as a public service announcement. In fact, it's not really about my period specifically, just something period-related. Here's the thing: you all need to know about the DivaCup. My best friend, Erk (alas, no blog to link to), got one and was all up in my grille about getting one. I finally caved, and holy fucking cow what took me so long? It's awesome. I'm using it for the first time today. I'd go on about it, but just read about it on the website. And trust me: it's not as icky as you might think. The insertion is nothing, and the removal is manageable. You need to be comfortable with your girl parts, but shouldn't we all feel comfortable with our girl parts?
Check it out. Trust me on this.
(FYI, I was a committed OB tampon user prior to switching to the Diva.)
*****************************
What about the tofu dogs? you ask. Well, let me tell you. I'll even make a transition from the DivaCup to Smart Dogs. Here goes: The DivaCup is something I thought might be gross, but wasn't. The Smart Dog is something I thought would be good, but was gross.
Ugh. I should have known better. The phrase tofu hot dog really doesn't inspire confidence, does it?
Here's what happened. I went grocery shopping at Stop'N'Shop, a local store that I hate, but to which I have a bunch of gift cards given to me by my generous coworkers. As I'm cruising the aisles, I happen by the meatless meat section, and the dogs catch my eye. The twins and I eat veggie at home (although we eat meat out, which I guess makes us flexitarians, which sounds pretentious and makes me feel a little lame, but whatever), and I thought, "Hey! Smart Dogs! Easy way to get (overprocessed) protein (and salt salt salt) into the twins!"
So tonight I included tofu dog rounds with their meal. I didn't taste them first, and whooooo boy, if I had, the twins never would have. I try not to let my own food biases get in the way of what the twins eat. I feed them papaya, for example, even though I think it tastes like vomit. But I won't feed them anything that's just not fit for human consumption, and these dogs fit the bill. GROSS. Awful taste, awful texture. Awful. Never again! Consider yourself warned.
12 September 2007
Running Update (edited to include forgotten footnote)
The good DoctorMama would be proud: I have been running. For at least a month now, I've been getting out with the twins about three times a week. I'm not going far and I'm not going fast, but I'm going.
Overall, it's been a good thing. The kids like the stroller time after daycare; they are often pretty tired after a full, social day at what I call school, and the time out in the fresh air gives them a nice transition and chance for a quick nap if they need it. It's a good transition for me, too. I'm usually racing out the door at work, perpetually five minutes late for daycare pickup, and often I have a phone call to make on my way to get the twins. The time outdoors is good for my brain and my body.
A couple of weeks ago, my dad sent me his Garmin so that I could figure out how far and fast I was going. I finally remembered to put it in my bag for today's outing. It's a damn good thing that Sitemeter and all of your comments are stroking my ego because my running results were pretty dismal. I know, I know, it's not about speed, it's about getting out there and doing it. But it's hard not to compare today's results to my running heyday the year I got married, when I regularly ran 30+ miles/week at an average of 8:30/mile.
According to the Garmin, I did three miles in 33 minutes, meaning I was doing 11 minute miles. OK, I was pushing 50 pounds of baby in a 20+ pound stroller. That time and distance includes about .25 miles of walking split between the beginning and end of the run, three brief stops to retrieve thrown Snack Traps,* and one pause at the halfway point to wipe my sweaty brow and give myself a pep talk for the return trip.
I'll be honest here (as if I'm not usually): I don't love running. I never have. I know it's good for me. It does give me energy for the evening and more patience with the twins. It's an extremely efficient way to exercise, and the only thing I've figured out how to fit into my schedule. I love what it does for me, but I'll be damned if I can figure out a way to enjoy doing it. I've never liked listening to music when I run, although I do enjoy NPR while running (I know, I'm crazy), but I don't know if I'd feel comfortable with headphones on when the twins were with me. What else is there to provide distraction? The halfway point of my run is psychologically very important to me, and I do sometimes find that I get a whiff of that elusive "runner's high" as I'm headed home. I think that has more to do with knowing that I'm headed towards that dish of ice cream that I've earned (ha) than with the joy of pounding the pavement.
There are things about running that are not good for me. I've always struggled with perfectionism, and there is no perfect in running. (There's no perfect in life, but that's an entirely different post.) I can always go faster, harder, or longer. It's very hard for me to focus on being happy with what I've done rather than dissatisfied with what I didn't do. The Garmin is a blessing and a curse in that I think it will motivate me to go longer, but it will also give me blunt truths with with to beat myself over the head.
The pros definitely outweigh the cons, there's no question. I've just been a bit caught off guard by the psychological stuff that has come up for me from running. The perfectionism, the competition, feelings of dissatisfaction with my body and it's limits. I'm hoping that these feelings motivate me to eat a little better (see above-mentioned ice cream) and make some other small changes that will give my self-esteem a little lift. My clothes haven't fit the way I'd like them to for a while and my hair is in that in-between stage. I just haven't felt pretty in a while. The running can be the foundation for feeling pretty again if I can set aside my psychological crap.
I'm going to start by getting myself some ice cream before bed. (What am I supposed to do? The plan is to finish this carton and then not buy anymore. Sssh, I know what you're thinking.)
*A long overdue reply to the reader who asked me about Snack Traps: yes, they are great, but they are not perfect (hmm, is this a theme for today?) The kids still drop a lot of Cheerios, Cheddar Bunnies, grapes, or whatever else I put in there, but at least when they shake the cups up, down, and all around, they don't spill the contents all in one go. My kids can't take the lids off by themselves yet, but I have heard that many kids figure that out very quickly and thus endeth the joy that is Snack Trap since without the lid, what's the point? I think Gerber and maybe some other companies make versions with sturdier lid attachments.
Overall, it's been a good thing. The kids like the stroller time after daycare; they are often pretty tired after a full, social day at what I call school, and the time out in the fresh air gives them a nice transition and chance for a quick nap if they need it. It's a good transition for me, too. I'm usually racing out the door at work, perpetually five minutes late for daycare pickup, and often I have a phone call to make on my way to get the twins. The time outdoors is good for my brain and my body.
A couple of weeks ago, my dad sent me his Garmin so that I could figure out how far and fast I was going. I finally remembered to put it in my bag for today's outing. It's a damn good thing that Sitemeter and all of your comments are stroking my ego because my running results were pretty dismal. I know, I know, it's not about speed, it's about getting out there and doing it. But it's hard not to compare today's results to my running heyday the year I got married, when I regularly ran 30+ miles/week at an average of 8:30/mile.
According to the Garmin, I did three miles in 33 minutes, meaning I was doing 11 minute miles. OK, I was pushing 50 pounds of baby in a 20+ pound stroller. That time and distance includes about .25 miles of walking split between the beginning and end of the run, three brief stops to retrieve thrown Snack Traps,* and one pause at the halfway point to wipe my sweaty brow and give myself a pep talk for the return trip.
I'll be honest here (as if I'm not usually): I don't love running. I never have. I know it's good for me. It does give me energy for the evening and more patience with the twins. It's an extremely efficient way to exercise, and the only thing I've figured out how to fit into my schedule. I love what it does for me, but I'll be damned if I can figure out a way to enjoy doing it. I've never liked listening to music when I run, although I do enjoy NPR while running (I know, I'm crazy), but I don't know if I'd feel comfortable with headphones on when the twins were with me. What else is there to provide distraction? The halfway point of my run is psychologically very important to me, and I do sometimes find that I get a whiff of that elusive "runner's high" as I'm headed home. I think that has more to do with knowing that I'm headed towards that dish of ice cream that I've earned (ha) than with the joy of pounding the pavement.
There are things about running that are not good for me. I've always struggled with perfectionism, and there is no perfect in running. (There's no perfect in life, but that's an entirely different post.) I can always go faster, harder, or longer. It's very hard for me to focus on being happy with what I've done rather than dissatisfied with what I didn't do. The Garmin is a blessing and a curse in that I think it will motivate me to go longer, but it will also give me blunt truths with with to beat myself over the head.
The pros definitely outweigh the cons, there's no question. I've just been a bit caught off guard by the psychological stuff that has come up for me from running. The perfectionism, the competition, feelings of dissatisfaction with my body and it's limits. I'm hoping that these feelings motivate me to eat a little better (see above-mentioned ice cream) and make some other small changes that will give my self-esteem a little lift. My clothes haven't fit the way I'd like them to for a while and my hair is in that in-between stage. I just haven't felt pretty in a while. The running can be the foundation for feeling pretty again if I can set aside my psychological crap.
I'm going to start by getting myself some ice cream before bed. (What am I supposed to do? The plan is to finish this carton and then not buy anymore. Sssh, I know what you're thinking.)
*A long overdue reply to the reader who asked me about Snack Traps: yes, they are great, but they are not perfect (hmm, is this a theme for today?) The kids still drop a lot of Cheerios, Cheddar Bunnies, grapes, or whatever else I put in there, but at least when they shake the cups up, down, and all around, they don't spill the contents all in one go. My kids can't take the lids off by themselves yet, but I have heard that many kids figure that out very quickly and thus endeth the joy that is Snack Trap since without the lid, what's the point? I think Gerber and maybe some other companies make versions with sturdier lid attachments.
How to Feel Popular
I had been toying around with adding some kind of stats-gathering functionality to my site for while, and I finally got with the program and signed up with Sitemeter this week. As it would happen, Julie over at A Little Pregnant linked to me in her 10 September posting, "Would have wanted," a post that went up the very day I added Sitemeter.
First of all, being linked to by Julie makes me feel like a celebrity. I am all aglow. As if that weren't enough swelling of the head, Julie is sending me a ton of traffic. When I log on to Sitemeter, I feel seriously money. A quick glance at my referrals indicates that about half of the people who have visited my site this week have come via Julie. Welcome to all of you (and, of course, to those of you who found the site via other channels).
Sitemeter is a little like crack for me. The "Who's on now?" feature is particularly addictive, although the whole thing makes me feel like Big Sister. And the world map! Amazing. I'll be curious to see how traffic levels out in the next few weeks, once my fifteen minutes of fame are over.
First of all, being linked to by Julie makes me feel like a celebrity. I am all aglow. As if that weren't enough swelling of the head, Julie is sending me a ton of traffic. When I log on to Sitemeter, I feel seriously money. A quick glance at my referrals indicates that about half of the people who have visited my site this week have come via Julie. Welcome to all of you (and, of course, to those of you who found the site via other channels).
Sitemeter is a little like crack for me. The "Who's on now?" feature is particularly addictive, although the whole thing makes me feel like Big Sister. And the world map! Amazing. I'll be curious to see how traffic levels out in the next few weeks, once my fifteen minutes of fame are over.
11 September 2007
10 September 2007
A Note on Madeleine L'Engle
When I posted about Madeleine L'Engle's death, I neglected to mention that my daughter is named for her. When I was in high school, I chose Madeleine as my name in French class in honor of Ms. L'Engle, and then when Maddie came along, it was the obvious choice.
All of my L'Engle books are home in Oregon. I'm going to have to hit the library for a fix.
All of my L'Engle books are home in Oregon. I'm going to have to hit the library for a fix.
Revelation (Minor)
I love to drink coffee. Love it. I only drink decaf due to complete insomnia if I consume caffeine, but I love the taste and the ritual. I like to buy coffee, but I also like to make it at home or at the office. Wherever, whenever, if there's coffee to be had, I'm likely to want to partake.
Over the years, I have suffered some amount of angst about this. The cream I put in it is bad for me! I should be drinking water instead! Or green tea!
Today, on my drive to work, I finally made some peace with my love of coffee. "Screw it," I thought, "So I like coffee. Yeah, maybe tea is better for my health, but it is no substitute for coffee. I'm done with the coffee guilt. There are better uses of my time. [ed: There's the revelation.]"
The guilt never stopped me from drinking coffee, at least not for very long. But it was nice to get to work and make myself a BIG cup of coffee and just enjoy it, guilt-free.
(Calling this a "revelation" seems rather grandiose, but letting go of guilt—even on this small scale—is a big deal for me.)
Over the years, I have suffered some amount of angst about this. The cream I put in it is bad for me! I should be drinking water instead! Or green tea!
Today, on my drive to work, I finally made some peace with my love of coffee. "Screw it," I thought, "So I like coffee. Yeah, maybe tea is better for my health, but it is no substitute for coffee. I'm done with the coffee guilt. There are better uses of my time. [ed: There's the revelation.]"
The guilt never stopped me from drinking coffee, at least not for very long. But it was nice to get to work and make myself a BIG cup of coffee and just enjoy it, guilt-free.
(Calling this a "revelation" seems rather grandiose, but letting go of guilt—even on this small scale—is a big deal for me.)
07 September 2007
Another Blow from 2007
This one doesn't strike as close to home, but it's still awful news: author Madeleine L'Engle has died at the age of 88.
Her books (although not A Wrinkle in Time, the one she is best known for) defined my childhood. I wanted to be just like her heroines: multilingual, musical, intellectual, independent, a lover of travel. I read her books over and over, something I almost never do.
How many times do I have to say it: ENOUGH ALREADY 2007!
Her books (although not A Wrinkle in Time, the one she is best known for) defined my childhood. I wanted to be just like her heroines: multilingual, musical, intellectual, independent, a lover of travel. I read her books over and over, something I almost never do.
How many times do I have to say it: ENOUGH ALREADY 2007!
06 September 2007
Best. Recipe. Ever!
I love Indian food. One of my favorite dishes is Mutter (or Mattar or Mutter or etc.) Paneer, a pea curry with paneer cheese. I've often wondered about making it at home, but not in a serious enough way to do anything about it. Yesterday, I was doing some serious Web surfing, linking from here to there to everywhere, when I stumbled upon this recipe.
And the heavens opened and angels sang.
I made it last night and it was deeeeelicious. I did not put in the cashews since I plan to feed it to the twins and I am waiting until they are two to give them nuts. Also, I was out of garlic. Huh? I am never out of garlic, but I was last night, so I used a bit of Penzey's granulated garlic instead.
It was still good. And easy and fast. Two thumbs up. We'll see what the twins think tonight.
Random aside: Why does everyone love Flickr? For a number of boring reasons, I have created an account, and I've also looked at other people's Flickr photos before. I find the interface to be really clunky and confusing. Am I missing something?
And the heavens opened and angels sang.
I made it last night and it was deeeeelicious. I did not put in the cashews since I plan to feed it to the twins and I am waiting until they are two to give them nuts. Also, I was out of garlic. Huh? I am never out of garlic, but I was last night, so I used a bit of Penzey's granulated garlic instead.
It was still good. And easy and fast. Two thumbs up. We'll see what the twins think tonight.
Random aside: Why does everyone love Flickr? For a number of boring reasons, I have created an account, and I've also looked at other people's Flickr photos before. I find the interface to be really clunky and confusing. Am I missing something?
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