January 3rd - Aloneness

I also was slacking on yesterday's blog post, in addition to the day before..

Yeah, this resolution thing is going to take a lot more resolve, haha.

Anyway, yesterday, the third day of the new year, was spent all by myself, since the small fry was in school for the day, which gave me ample opportunity to do whatever I needed to do. I always say that I'm going to be productive and do things like laundry, cleaning, or errands while she's gone, but in reality, I prefer to spend my time doing highly unproductive things like watching movies, or eating candy, since no one will come along and interrupt my movie or take my candy.

Which brings me to my appreciation for the day: Alone time, and the sense of being alone.

Back before she came along, and before I was living in a house full of people and animals who always needed me to do something for them, I didn't truly appreciate time alone to do absolutely nothing productive. I used to find time to do things alone, like running, but that was something I would have filed under productive. Fluffy things like eating ice cream, watching movies, or just lazing around, I would find other people with whom to share that time, and I would sometimes feel badly for not being that productive.

Since I've become a parent, though, and one that is getting through nursing school at that, I've really come to appreciate taking time for myself that has absolutely no practical purpose. Things like eating ice cream all alone in the Laz-E-Boy, or reading a book in the coffee shop with a $2.50 apple cider ($2.50 that could really have been saved for something considered far more practical, are things that are necessary to get a break and take some mental refreshment. They keep me sane, and make me feel a bit pampered.

So yesterday, I sat around and watched movies for a few hours, then read "The Vacancy", by J.K. Rowling, which I'm hoping to finish before school starts and I get bogged down in school reading. I did absolutely nothing practical or productive, and it was glorious.

January 2nd - Sisters

I didn't end up getting this post done yesterday (great way to start my new resolution, I know), so I'm going to backtrack and write one today.

Yesterday was the first day to challenge my resolution to find something positive in my day. Lilya had a day where she decided not to nap (which is always a ton of fun), the internet went down for some random reason (and fixed itself even more randomly about an hour after I called the cable company to tell them to send someone out), and I had some stress over money and bills, the latter of which are never-ending, and the former of which I find I never have enough.

Just a generally anxious and not productive day, really. I actually had to leave for about two hours to sit at the coffee shop alone, where I did manage to finish my holiday cards and read for a bit, which helped to re-collect my thoughts a bit.

Which, while positive, isn't my most positive aspect, actually. While driving home and crying (sometimes, the stress associated with the prospect of the next year and a half of being a single mom alone going through nursing school just gets to me, I'll admit it), I really struggled to come up with a positive part of the day, and had to ask myself several times. What came to mind from underneath all the muck tears was my conversation with Deisa that I had on Skype in the afternoon.

Not that the conversation was all that special. We didn't talk about too many things that were deep. Actually, she mostly told me about her escapades with New Year's Eve and Seattle partying, which are things that, as a mom, I can no longer relate to but enjoy hearing, if only to live vicariously through those experiences for a little bit. I also appreciate that we've managed to grow very close since we've moved out of our mother's house years ago, much closer than I ever would have thought. I don't know how that happened, but it somehow did, and there's something special about having another person in the world with whom you can commiserate over experiences during the growing-up process, especially in a family as dysfunctional as ours.

New Year, New Beginnings

Isn't that the way of every new year? There's just something about the prospect of starting over, having to adjust to writing different numbers in the year on your checks, feeling like everything is possible with a whole new set of 365 days ahead of you, making resolutions for the coming year that may or may not come true but look too fabulous on the very first few days to ever doubt.

I do love new years.

2012 was quite a busy year, and quite a good one. Made it into nursing school (and survived the first semester), was inducted into the honor society for academic excellence, met a whole lot of new, wonderful people, and watched Lilya gain a lot in vocabulary, personality, and independence. I spent a lot of time being rather busy, and had to learn how to put aside time for myself, and pursue endeavors that were only for me.

Still, I didn't find a lot of time for the things that I really used to enjoy doing. The main thing I found myself missing was writing. I didn't spend anywhere near as much time as I would have liked doing that, and the main reason was that I just didn't make it a priority. 

So, this year, taking my lessons learned from the past year, I've decided that for my resolution, I'm going to write a blog every day, of at least one good thing that happened that day. Even if it's a short paragraph describing just one thing, I'm going to make it a priority to write about all the good things that happened in the year, because too often, I find myself focusing on the negative aspects, since those take a lot more energy and input than positive things.

That and I like the thought of being able to look back on 2013 at the beginning of 2014, when I'm getting ready to graduate, and having the ability to look through and appreciate all the good things in my life. I don't really do that often enough, so why not?

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So, to begin the year, I'll start with a good thing about today.

Although the new year started off at midnight a bit less stellar than I would have liked (Lilya woke up around midnight because she had vomited all over her own sheets, and then again all over my sheets when I brought her to sleep with me), I got the chance to snuggle with her for a long time while she tried to fall asleep. Just her on my chest, with me sitting upright to help her belly settle while she burrowed into my body.

It's still amazing to me when she does that, and I can't help but compare her now to when I first brought her home and she wanted to sleep on me, no matter how hard I tried to get her into her own bed for more than an hour. Her entire body fit like a little frog on my chest, barely hitting my belly button at a good stretch. At eight pounds, she seemed feather-light, and there were nights I'd wake up with a start thinking she'd fallen off and I hadn't noticed.

Now, her legs go all the way down to my knees, and stretched out, she can cover the entire top of my chest and belly. At twenty-five pounds, she can actually take the breath right out of me, when she's relaxed enough. Last night, as she slept peacefully, I wondered when that little feather had turned into such a tangle of legs and arms that turned like a helicopter to get more comfortable. I don't remember exactly how that happened, but it definitely did, and I know it won't last forever.

So despite her belly being less than happy, I got one more night where I could enjoy her head on my chest, and bury my nose in head, taking in her no-longer-baby smell while she will still let me.

Only getting five hours of sleep was definitely worth that.

Off-color "compliments" and and some instant gratification

So I got my first wolf-whistle in several years while running today. Haven’t had that happen since my days living around UNR, when I used to run around the dorms and rental neighborhoods during the party times at night. Men with beer whistle at anything that moves (heck, occasionally they'll attempt to chase it down, despite wearing flip-flops and sloshing a half-finished can of beer), so it was really more awkward than anything, but it could generally be considered an compliment, in a roundabout fashion.

Anyway, it’s amusing to me that I received this lone wolf-whistle today, because while I’m always vaguely flattered when men do that (even drunk ones that can't tell their shoe from a toilet), I don’t know why it always seems to happen on the days when I’m slogging through my long run of ten miles, and I know I look like absolute crap. My hair is everywhere in full-frizz flyaway mode, I’m (literally) pouring buckets of sweat, and my entire face is redder than Ronald McDonald’s nose. I'm usually also making odd, random faces while I sing along to whatever song is on my iPod (lately it's been a lot of rap, so you can also add goofy hand gestures to that mental image), and my glasses are constantly having to be pushed back up my sweaty nose.

I'm not exaggerating here when I say there is nothing deserving of a wolf-whistle about that slovenly, red-faced, arm-waving, face-contorting, stinky, sweaty mess, because really, on a scale of sexiness, at that moment I would probably be lucky to barely edge out a horse that had just rolled in it’s own manure.

Which, for the record, I have no problem with, since my goal during my runs is to end up looking like I actually worked for that finish. I'm totally okay looking like crap, because it means I did my job. I just get really confused as to why thats wolf-whistle-worthy.

Oh, well, I’ll still take it as an off-color compliment. Made the last part of my ten miles more sexy-feeling, anyway, and, I'll admit it, gave me a small instant gratification boost with regard to my butt, because the guy actually rubber-necked to look back at it while he was driving.

Only thing that was more gratifying was running by him a bit later, pulled over for speeding. It's probably breaking karma laws in admitting that I found that more gratifying, but I try not to question things too much; just run right past 'em and wave as they fly by.

Some Perspective

There is a serious discussion that goes on in our household every few days. It’s a misunderstanding that has been going on since the dawn of time, when men went out and hunted during the day, and women hung out in the cave and cared for the children. And I’m sure, even back in the days of the caveman, the discussion always started with the the man coming home at the end of the day to the cave, listening to his significant other mention how tired she is, and then blurting the innocuous statement “Well, you get to stay at home all day. That can’t be as hard as slaving all day at work like I do. At least you don't have to do that.”

I hate this statement. I can't possibly explain how much I despise, loathe, and abominate it, especially coming from people who have never had to stay at home with kids all day, and seem to think that it involves sitting around in pajamas every day, eating bon-bons while watching Dr. Phil.

So, let me give an example of my day, in the perspective of people who work all day in an office.

It doesn't involve bon-bons.

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You begin the day with heading to work. You arrive, and are assigned a foreign-language intern for the day, who will accompany you throughout your work. He does not speak English, and has no concept of customs or manners. You are assigned to give him an idea of these customs, while completing your work and teaching him how to assist you in that work.

You think "Well, that's not that bad. I can still get my work done, he'll just watch me, and figure out what to do."

You begin with your morning cup of coffee and bagel in the break-room, and invite him to join you. He sees you enjoying this breakfast, and reaches for the food to share. You're willing to share, of course, and split the bagel and hand it to him. He takes it, looks at it, and then reaches for yours. You swap halves, he takes a bite, spits it out, and again reaches for yours.

You just want to eat your half of the bagel in peace, so you tell him "No, you have your own. It's exactly like mine. But this is mine."

He screams at you and flails his arms, throwing pieces of the bagel all around the break-room, which hit you in the face and get all over the walls, not to mention his shirt. 

You, being the helpful person you are, just give him the entire bagel to shut him up, which he takes and promptly throws on the floor. You know that no one else is going to come in and clean up the room, so you do it yourself, then start to head out the door to do your work. You notice he still has bagel all over his shirt and face, so you offer to help him clean it up. You barely get within ten feet of him with a damp towel and he screams, flinging his arms around maniacally, and begins to hit you. You know you can't possibly let him go around with food on his face the entire day, because your boss will blame you, so you pin his arms down, trying to ignore the kicks to your shins in the meantime. The minute you finish, he gives you a big goofy grin, and heads out the door.

You head to your desk, and begin your assignment. It's very time-consuming, and you have to be thorough, so you concentrate on your task. Every few minutes, your intern comes up to you, babbling incoherently, shoving various things at your face, tugging at your arms, legs, and whatever other body part they can reach to get your attention. You really don't know what he wants, so you try and smile, nod, and just continue with your task. After several interruptions, the intern apparently realizes that you are busy, and turns away.

Relieved, you throw yourself back into your work. Several minutes into it, you look up, realize your intern is no longer there, and wonder where he went off to. You stand up, peer past your cubicle, and see him in the lounge area, fascinated with a box of Kleenex, which he is busy disemboweling and tossing all around the room in apparent glee. He must have found the magazines first, because those are already torn into shreds around his feet. Your boss hasn't seen the mess yet, but your neighboring coworkers are all glaring at you angrily, blaming you for not keeping your intern under control and preventing them from working in peace. You try and smile while heading over to clean up the paper as quickly as possible, attempting to stuff the Kleenex back into the box, not even caring that it no longer fits properly.

You attempt to pull the intern back to your desk, dragging him by his arm while he's yelling loudly at you for not allowing him to have his fun. You make it back, sit him down, and hand him a stapler, so that he can help you with sorting through papers. He seems to enjoy the distraction for a few minutes, and then promptly falls asleep. Relieved that you have some time to yourself to finish your job, you turn around back to your work, rushing through it as quickly as possible to finish before he wakes. You finish your task, print out the papers, and set them on the desk, feeling pleased with yourself. And since your intern is still asleep, you figure you can sneak off for some lunch, and get back before he wakes. Heck, you can even drop off your work at your boss' office on the way. You'll look awesomely in charge of everything.

Suddenly, one of your coworkers comes up and asks you loudly if she can have some staples. You dig around for a moment, find them, and oblige her with her staples. She heads off. You turn around to collect your papers, and realize that they aren't where you left them. Suddenly, you hear an ungodly amount of ripping noises coming from the floor, and look down to the see the intern ripping your entire project to shreds. You snatch the papers back, to which the intern responds with an ear-splitting shriek, and starts bawling. You quickly hand him the stapler again, which he seems pleased with.

Suddenly, you realize that you have to go to the bathroom. While he's distracted, you figure you can just sneak off and relieve yourself. You get to the bathroom, sit down on the toilet, and enjoy a moment to yourself, before you hear babbling and then a pounding on the door. The intern apparently followed you into the restroom, and wants into your stall. You proceed to rush through your ablutions, though not quickly enough, because the intern crawls underneath the door, grinning at you while you try and finish your business. You hurriedly yank your pants up and haul the intern out of the stall, washing your hands in a rush, then helping him wash his own when you realize that he has just been crawling around toilets.

You head back out to finish your work, and your boss comes out to check on your progress. You wonder why, since he doesn't do that until the end of the day, when you look at the clock and suddenly realize that it's time to go home, and he's caught you without having gotten your work finished. To top that off, the intern has decided to take off his pants and shirt, and is sitting in the middle of the hallway, covered in toilet paper he somehow managed to sneak from the bathroom for the few moments you turned around to dry your hands.

Your boss looks at you with confusion, and says "You didn't even have to leave the office today. How come you haven't gotten anything done? You really should be on top of everything, you didn't have that much extra added on. I think I'm going to have you take that intern home with you tonight, so you can really focus on getting that work done."

You just stand there mutely staring at your toilet paper-covered, half-naked intern, who has now found a pencil and is shoving it up his nose.

---

The day that someone has to go to work and deal with an intern like that all day, is the day that they are welcome to say "But you stay home all day, that's not that hard."

So Baby Fry finally rolled recently, belly to back AND back to belly (in the same day, might I snobbishly add), pushed herself up to sitting from her belly, and even pulled up on the coffee table to a half-standing position. This was all in the space of about a week, so apparently we got rather ambitious with the changing of seasons.

Of course, this is coming from the child who (nearly) rode a horse all by herself, so I suppose I shouldn't be surprised. I mean, I give away amazing genetics, so it's only expected that she come out and practically be superhuman. 

Yes, it's appropriate, you may all applaud raucously.

As a result of this newly-discovered mobility, she's been all over the floor, rolling under the table, chairs, and giving me some much-appreciated hands-free entertainment time. Of course, while all of this is impressive (you know you're impressed, don't lie), it means that I have to actually employ some sort of baby-proofing  in the near future. Which, given my lazy nature and our lack of anything particularly valuable in the house, might just end up being some ground stakes and a few strategically-placed tarps. We don't have company, anyway, so the ugly clashing of outdoor with indoor vanity won't matter much. I might go camo just to be obstinate.

On another note, given that it's now the beginning of April, that marks the official seventh-month breastfeeding milestone. Yay! I'm going to celebrate with a cute little cow blinkie badge.. Thing. It makes me feel like I earned something besides sleepless nights and a gigantic infant.

Yay for blinkie cow badges!