On writing, part 2

Last week was a hard week that punched me in the face a few separate times. I kept wanting to escape into my writing to deal with it and use my anxious energy for good, but the project next at bat was that dealing-as-a-cancer-spouse book idea. And you know what? Turns out that's not something I want to dive into when I've finally found a delicious and sacred hour to write. Because every time I've tried to sit down and really get rolling, my whole body/soul/mind/breakfast recoils.

And then I was reading one of my 1200 Buddhist/mindfulness books this morning and a passage was focusing on, what else, living in today and only today instead of yesterday and all the old yesterdays and hark! I realized no, no, no -- this isn't for me.

And anyways, yo, what I need to push myself to do is write fiction. It's why I did that summer writing program at Yale (the very week I found out I was pregnant with Bea -- oooohhh there were some very queasy editorial panels I sat through) -- to find out if I could actually do fiction. Like at all. To see if I could do more than write about my life in short bursts. And I came away after those 10 days feeling like I could, like I can.

But it's a lot harder for me (I think for anyone) to sit down and work on a story than to sit down and bang out a quick anecdote. So I fight it a little and look for other things to do (there are just so many closets to clean!) when all I really want is to write a great -- or good, I'll take good! -- story.

I want to work on a world that I'll want to escape into when it's time to work. Like Mma Ramotswe's Botswana or sure okay it's not a book but it's heaven -- Stars Hollow. I love that kind of stuff and I seek it out like crack and I want to try my best to make my own. (Insert Walter White joke here.)

Writing about writing is another delay tactic of sorts, sure, but who cares. I feel a weight off my shoulders typing this post because: Do not have to write sad cancer book! Can write warm and hopefully funny novel book! Tarzan happy and drink hot cocoa under covers now!

Oh and coda: Behold my baby who turned 9 months this weekend! I don't type about her nearly as much as I did Harper on my old blog, but trust me when I say she is a w-o-n-d-e-r-f-u-l baby. Funny and curious and loud and loving and just happy. My tiny bumble Bea.

Limits

In my San Francisco newlywed days, I used to walk to Whole Foods, pick out and pay for 30 dollars of groceries, and then walk back to our apartment. The dollar limit was for two reasons: 1) Half of our two person unit was gone Monday through Thursday of every week and we just didn't need a lot of food and 2) I'd learned the hard way that I could only carry 30 dollars worth of loot.

My first walking trip to that Whole Foods (affectionately referred to as "WH" in our house because for YEARS I abbreviated it that way in texts, not once realizing it should be WF... ) had me all excited and jazzed to be Euro style, with my walking and my canvas tote and my fresh produce getting. I would choose what struck my fancy and then whip up a locally-sourced-organically-grown-unicorn-picked meal.

Anyway. I got in there and behaved like I'd never set food in a grocery store before. Who even knows what all I bought (we were really into goji berries in days of yore), but I filled my XXL L.L. Bean tote to the brim and then some. I paid and picked it up, quickly realizing there was no way I could carry that thing home like a normal human, using straps and arms. It was much, much too heavy and there were far, far too many hills. So I dragged it home. All along the city sidewalks, up and down and over... Pull pull, pause, rearrange the eggs, pull pull, pause, now the cilantro. 

I ruined that (brand new) bag, put huge holes on the bottom and ripped some of the seams. I was so mad at myself! Also embarrassed. Also my arms were killing me.

So I learned that 90 dollars of groceries wouldn't work. But 30 could. 

I run into things like this all the time with mothering a second child. Things that used to have me choking back tears with Harper just don't take me down anymore. It took a few years, but I've started to learn my parenting limits. I don't have to tackle the grocery store and then do story time at the library and then return shoes to Target and then do housework and then drive against rush hour to meet a friend at an inconvenient park and then cook a locally sourced unicorn meal and then put a load of cloth diapers in and then and then. I was always racing against a clock, or trying to fill the hours manically, and ended up ripping a lot of metaphorical totes along the way.

Last week I had an errand to run at the Apple Store. I usually dread going to the mall in any scenario, let alone with an infant person. But then I remembered I didn't have to tack on forty eleven extra errands to the day. If I felt tired or overwhelmed (uh I'm not so much of a hothouse flower that the mall wilts my will to live, but there have been a lot of 5:00 mornings around here and adding up the preschool driving and mall driving there was going to be 2+ hours in the car), I just had to do the usual tasks and this one bonus thing. I left plenty of time to get to the mall and to park. I made sure Bea had been nursed and had solids. I used the bathroom, I fed myself, I dressed nicely, I packed my stroller. (Sure these sounds like basic things, but with baby HJ I was always in scramble/reactive mode.) 

And so? I actually found myself smiling as we walked out of the mall later that morning. I'd had fun, yo! It was a sunny day and Bea was a happy clam and I was holding a holiday coffee cup. I'd done my errand, a little window shopping, got a Starbucks, walked a bit for exercise, and enjoyed the ooohingaahing over my cute nunnerson in the pink booties. Then...left! 

Who knew, 28-year-old me? Limits! They're a thing. 

A list of Wednesday things

- NYTimes just pushed through the message "Spacecraft Lands on Comet's Surface" and I burst out laughing.

- Sitter smalltalk is the worst for me. I feel like a teenage boy nodding and smiling and saying sure, I love you, all to get some play. Wait, strike that. What I mean is, when she gets here I want to leave as quickly as possible -- I'm on the clock, woman! I've timed nursing and naps and school pick-up and all myriad things so that every minute counts. I super don't care about your kids and though I'm completely certain that makes me a monster... Seacrest out! 

- At drop-off today, I overheard two moms talking about a playdate in the works. One told the other (who would be hosting) to make sure she got "some greens" into her daughter. That kind of ruined the next 5 minutes of my life.

- It's slowly dawning on me that in 4 short weeks, I'll be home with 2 kids all the time, full time. We had yesterday off because of Veteran's Day and while in many ways our day was better than a school day (baby could take real naps, there was no morning scramble, we were all relaxed and uncrabby for the most part -- except come 4:00 when I needed to call it a night), there were a lot of hours to fill.

So I think I need to research/potentially purchase some "homeschool" books for Harper. She is very into projects and worksheets and word problems and math equations and the like, and I think our days will flow if we have a rough schedule with some definite "school" (I don't know why I keep putting that in quotes, let's roll with it) time. Are there any recommendations for such a thing/things? I'm usually disappointed with the workbooks I find out and about mainly because she whips through them too quickly, so I'm looking for something that is a challenge without being crazy hard. 

She'd probably love something where you read a book, then do some comprehension questions, then do a make-a-puppet project that ties in. While I like the idea of "tell me what you're interested in and we'll go do it!", Harper 1) seriously enjoys traditional structure 2) she's constantly doing her own weird open-ended chemistry and/or craft projects and I'll let that check the box on creative, tactile learning. Plus, I've always been very focused on incidental teaching/learning, so wherever we are or whatever we're doing there are LOTS of questions/answers and discussion. LOTS. 

Anyway. Any and all tips are welcomed. 


- I'm guessing this will change once I'm in the BK, but I've always found home coffee to be preferable to store/cafe/restaurant coffee BUT store/cafe/restaurant lattes to be everything worth living for. Am I visiting the wrong coffee establishments? It would be nice to enjoy the cheaper of the two options while erranding. 

Bye. 

Zzzz

So you know how my blog title might seem like it's about living on a ranch-ish property? I can see where you'd get that. But actually, no, it's from my postpartum days with Bea, when I realized how insane this house is when you're trying to care for a 4-year-old, an infant, and a crazy Frenchie all day everyday. It's up and down and over and down and up and across and yelling "I can't hear you from any other room than the one you're in, Harper, but I'll be RIGHT THERE TO WIPE YOU! I'm just taking Georgie out/changing Bea's diaper/putting clothes in the dryer/peeing!" And then scrambling and sliding down stairs to find her.

I started saying I really wanted a reasonable ranch. You know -- mid-century style, easy breezy one-floor livin'. Give the kids a bath and then saunter to their rooms and then saunter to the kitchen and then saunter to the living room and then saunter to bed. Basically, I envisioned massive quantities of sauntering.

No shouting through the ancient walls to get heard or tripping over millions of staircases or strategically placing multiple space heaters and keeping a woodstove roaring from 6 AM to keep the temp above 55. Did I mention the dog who needs to be let out 175 times a day to very particular spots of land? Too much, I say!

This is all the definition of #firstworldprobs, of course, but I'm just zapped. It's beautiful here and sometimes magical and would be just lovely at a different stage of life, I'm sure. It's basically a great house to visit, but not to manage. Because for now, for me, I am constantly in a scramble from cold room to cold room, trying to keep things together and the kids happy (with their very different, 4-years-apart needs) and the dog fed and the husband fed and maybe not myself fed since I still have 7 pounds to lose and it's exhausting in this layout. #crymeariver #iknow

This is one of the reasons I am so excited about apartment living. I know we'll be cramped at times, I know it's going to come with its own list of frustrations and limitations, but it's going to be a better fit for me. For us, I hope. I know how to keep an apartment clean. I can keep a kitchen and one bathroom and a few extra spaces tidy. I'll have all that on lockdown and won't feel like I'm always one (or one hundred) steps behind on housework.

And! I won't have to leave Harper alone in remote corners of the house while I do baby things or George things. How will we ever adjust to communicating without (kind but very loud) yelling...?

Anyways. I'm working extra hard these days because on top of reg cleaning maintenance, I'm pushing to clear this house of extra stuff (there's a lot) and organizing what we want to take with to Brooklyn or donate or leave behind. I've always got a closet to clean or drawer to organize or box of clothes to sift through and I've always got a tiny baby Niecy Nash who's giving me sass while I do it. It's a strangely satisfying kind of work and I'm feeling more and more on top of things, but by the end of the day there's little left for anything too fun or soul/brain oriented (like book writing!) I'm okay with focusing on the mundane for now, though. Just knowing it's not forever keeps me buoyant.

All of this is to say: I'm tired, but excited -- and I'll be happy when the stuff's gone, I'm in my reasonable Brooklyn ranch, and there's a pocket of time for me (and probably a cronut).

Things Harper said when she came in on the end of a Gilmore Girls episode

"Are these real? These...people?"

"Is this supposed to be funny?"

"So...nothing really happens?"

Nosy

Lately I've had the weirdest things with smells. Something pretty generic and everyday normal that I smell all the time will send me swirling back to the most specific things.

Examples:

Last night I was making hot cocoa with a Swiss Miss pack. (A guilty pleasure, shhh.) Even though I drink hot chocolate constantly, I was suddenly BAM back in 6th grade, February vacation, watching Grease on repeat.

Two days ago I ate a clementine and was BAM at my grandmother's house in elementary school at Christmas time.

And other ones my tired brain can't think of right now. I feel like this is something that should happen when you're 95 and in the winter days of life, remembering the peppermint candies your Mamaw made? Not 32, hangin with a baby and washing the sofa slipcover.

Anyway. Back to those slipcovers.

While my bulldog gently wheezes

Things that bother me more than they should:

- When someone writes "Awww" in response to another person, in earnest, posting a sad or bad event. -- e.g. someone posts on Facebook that their beloved grandpa just died. For the love of God, please don't reply: "Awwwww!"
"Awww" is only okay when someone posted a picture of a kitten stuck inside a boot. Capishe?

- When someone exclaims how much they love their children. I... ???????????????????? Of course you love your kids, ya nut. Are you actually trying to say you maybe love them more than average? I don't think that's a thing. I think we all love the shit out of our kids. When someone says this to me I'm always a) really weirded out and b) confused how to respond. It seems really lame to say "I love mine, too!" because ick, however if I don't reply in same I'm a sociopath.

(Lemme clarify because upon a reread it sounds like I don't want peeps saying they love their kids. Nope nope. There's just a certain kinda person who professes their love as a brag, as if it's unique...or a love contest. Okay, Scrooge peacin out.)


- Getting water down (up?) my sleeve while I do the dishes.

Now some nice and/or neutral things:

-My girls and dog have all been so lovely to each other lately. Gentle cuddles and sharing/swapping toys and giggling over everything and ear biting (okay that was just Bea to George) and each one just putting up with the other in an easygoing way. We weren't rolling like that a few months ago and hey, I know we won't roll like that always so I'm really enjoying it in the now. (I REALLY LOVE MY KIDS!)

- Just discovered the Mark Morris Dance Group has both adult and children's classes in Brooklyn and I'm aeoirpeaorecorievunrenroaeirune !!! over this. Modern dance is my truest of loves and I cannot wait to get down to it again.

- This weekend I watched both Hobbit movies with Clay, in 3D, on our couch, and though initially it was under duress.. I am now obsessed and fixating and cannot wait for Christmas. My preciousssss. Smaaaaaauuuug! Orlando Bloooooom.

- I'm a little panicked about Georgie becoming a city dog. He is zero aggressive and loves all of God's everything, including serial killers I'm sure, but he doesn't have good leash manners. He barks and pulls and goes insane over everything that passes by. Blerp. I'll fix it with gross dried meat products in my pocket, but it's going to be rich. My plan is to lie that he's only a puppy. Need to get him a bit of Botox first.

- Harper laughs exactly like my paternal grandmother (who has long since left this world). I don't understand how that can happen? It's sweet and scary all at the same time.

- There's a 30% off sale at method and I'm much more excited about this than I should be.

Okay. As you were.