Slow Motion Race

Small Portions of the Truth

2008-06-23T15:07:24Z

A few days ago my brother in law said that it recently occurred to him that he knows very little about me. Though this was not surprising to me, the fact that he noticed it and said something to me is. A while back I resigned to the likeliness that my new family and friends here would probably never get to know me as some others have. This is not to say that they are selfish or that I am withholding information, but rather that our circumstance in life prevents that kind of relationship from coming about right now. I'm not really sure how that sounds to an objective mind, I just know it's what I have thought and that resignation has helped me not be so hard on myself or those around me in the last few months.

Or so I thought.

There are times when I so strongly feel the deficit of familiarity in my surroundings that I want nothing more than to leave - or worse- to scream my frustrations at the top of my lungs and reveal to each and every family member and friend how tired I am of hoping that there are no terrible long term effects of living this way.

Because I do believe it will pass, eventually. The way I see it, one day, we will move away to an area that feels more like home, a place we can relax and not worry so much about who we have recently offended regarding the latest holiday gathering. By then my children will be starting school and I will be able to work more, thus making friends who are interested in similar things and have time to socialize beyond our children's naps and tantrums. There will be less obligation and more choice. Less worry, I hope.

But the fact remains that we should be able to feel that way now. We shouldn't have to move away from those who clearly care about us. We, or I, should be able to be myself here, now. And that's the question. How did this happen?

I just finished reading Out Stealing Horses by Per Petterson, a novel that gets right into those details of knowing someone but not knowing them and how what has passed in a person's life makes all the difference - no matter how little we speak of it.

From page 67:

People like it when you tell them things, in suitable portions, in a modest, intimate tone, and they think they know you, but they do not, they know about you, for what they are let in on are facts, not feelings, not what your opinion is about anything at all, not how what has happened to you and how all the decisions you have made have turned you into who you are. What they do is they fill in with their own feelings and opinion sand assumptions, and they compose a new life which has precious little to do with yours and that lets you off the hook. ... You only have to be polite and smile and keep paranoid thoughts at bay, because they will talk about you no matter how much you squirm, it is inevitable, and you would do the same thing yourself.

I keep a lot to myself these days. I smile, I try to be polite. I carefully select my facts and place them in conversations as a small effort to have people know me. Though I feel I am being equal in my attempts to reach out, it's not much, not much effort at all. That works fine unless I disagree with what has been done or said around me. Then, those thoughts take up too much space; they are too heavy to carry around for very long. Clearly, this approach to my life is not working. Especially when, again, we know it shouldn't be this way.

But what else is there? I am not so ready to make myself vulnerable again. I am not willing to hope that talking more and letting more "truths" slip out will suddenly change how people here see me or their willingness to accept me as I am - different, though quite valid. I am very much outnumbered anyway. But perhaps, as MJ said this weekend, it will lift some of the heaviness I try to pretend I do not carry. Perhaps we should just try it and let the chips fall where they may.

The only way to accomplish this would be for me to realize too, that I do not know these people. Family or not, friend or not - I only know about them. Few feelings are discussed, though facts are usually out there, in suitable portions. I have to get past all the current misinterpretations and inaccurately filled in conclusions that have been relayed to me. There will be more. I have to erase what I think I know about them and do my best to give a more accurate view of me. After all, that is the only responsibility I have. The rest cannot be helped.

Got Juice?

2008-06-23T15:03:44Z

This video was shared by my friend Shannon who somehow moved to NYC a couple months ago and is not yet broke.

Two Worlds Collide

2008-06-02T16:59:02Z

If you're wondering where I've been, you need look no further than outside your window. The sun has finally arrived in the Garden State and so has the new babysitter. I can't help it. It's like every time I sit down to my computer it feels like I'm just wasting those precious sunlight hours away. Which I am.

That's not to say I don't enjoy this writing. I do. But if you were pregnant, your brain would be all static-y too and you would also have trouble forming complete sentences, let alone complete thoughts. DO YOU UNDERSTAND WHAT I"M SAYING? DON'T MAKE ME CRY, Dammit!

Aside from frolicking in the sun, we have also been trying to nail down other summer plans, part of which include our very first family trip back to my hometown. As of yesterday we finally booked the flights and now my neurotic imagination can take over handling all the if and or buts regarding the reality of returning to the scene of my youthful crimes after a three year absence.

THREE years. I think. The last time I was in Oklahoma was June of 2005. I attended a family reunion. I was barely single, and, unknown to me, I was barely pregnant. This time I am quite the opposite.

A few (several) years ago I attended my 1st high school reunion. I was one of the only women who did not have any children; what with the Midwest being the kind of place where everybody has the kids early and such. (We know it's true.) At that event several people remarked to me how lucky they thought I was to have been traveling and enjoying my freedom. I did feel lucky, yes. But I also felt that they were lucky too. With the exception of the expanding waistlines and growing debt, I thought that being a spouse and parent didn't seem that bad. I knew they probably enjoyed the soccer games and the annual holiday parties with people they have known forever. I was all too aware that the grass always smells sweeter from the other side of the fence.

But I also know that enough distance, passed time and alcohol makes ordinarily pleasant people say the saddest things sometimes. Thoughts that normally are passing and dismissed as ridiculous fall right out of people's mouths when you haven't seen them in years, they won't be seeing you for another few years and they've been drinking. i consider myself sort of an expert at dealing with this by now, having spent most of my adult life relocating or traveling from place to place.

I've heard it all. Everything from "I've always had a crush on you" to "I will never forgive you for leaving me here." The more awkward comments did happen at that last reunion, however. One old friend told me that she has done nothing with her life since we last saw each other and that I must hate her because she is so boring. Never mind that she had three lovely children and could probably still fit into her prom dress. And she was still married to the father of her children -a feat that at least half of the people in the state of Oklahoma could not accomplish.

But this time.... this trip back "home" will be different. I'm the one who is married with my little girl in tow. And I am positive I cannot fit into my old prom dress in my very pregnant state. This will be a switch. I expect there will be those who will be happy to see me like this - feeling as though I will "finally see what it's like" to be them. As it is some sort of just punishment for all my years of travel trouble, music and art. Thankfully, this is not another high school reunion. But still - you know how it is when you go back to a place that was once your home base. Everything looks different, but feels the same.

But I'm different - at least I know I am. And it will be very interesting to have my two worlds collide. Again.

Conversational Set

2008-05-10T01:55:36Z

We just spent a small fortune on patio/ deck furniture. Guess we better get a patio.

The point of this new ensemble is part of my master plan to create an outdoor living space where me and the other moms in my neighborhood can drink large quantities of alcohol without worrying about spillage on the carpet. Well, sort of, anyway.

Obviously since three of us are pregnant we wont be drinking anytime soon. But still. we could sit there in the shade of an enormous umbrella, on the plushy cushions and look like we haven't a care in the world except for the raging demands of our toddlers. We would converse because that's what the set is called. It's a conversational set - not a Sleeping Set or a Reading Room. Conversational. I prefer adult talk but you can sit there and converse about anything as long as you aren't doing it with a stupid voice for that of a 5 inch tall stuffed monkey. Throw in some pretty landscaping and a nice sized swing set and I'm in heaven.

And Happy, Happy Mother's Day to me.

How Long Will Be Too Long?

2008-05-09T15:46:31Z

Wednesday night, thru tears, I wrote a very detailed entry about all the reasons and emotions behind my feelings toward living here in NJ. But the power of the internet is not great enough to contain such emotion, apparently. Firefox wiped all my tear filled sentences away - just like that.

So today, like many days lately, I just don't have the energy to go through it all again. The gist of it is this:

After a year and a half of living here in NJ, I sadly report that I have not gotten used to it. In fact, I have many regrets about leaving California. I knew these regrets would come. I'm used to ups and downs of starting a new life in a new place. But what I wasn't prepared for was the seemingly endless battle to make my place here or the financial hit that our family would take from living in the NE during a recession and how our effort to stay afloat would take time away from our family.

There are a lot of good things about NJ, however. I love our house, which we have made a real home. Also, there are the parks, the proximity to NYC, the comfort of having family nearby to help us with August. Recently, I have even started to make a few friends, whom, I have no doubt will be of the lifelong variety if I am around long enough. But there is so much more to daily life than these things. Most of my days are spent alone. Alone in the truest sense of the word.

I think I have avoided being completely honest with myself about all these things because I kept thinking that if I just hang around long enough I will, as I said, "get used to it". Instead, Mike has become increasingly disillusioned with the way things are as well. Some of his complaints are the same and some are different. For one, he has the added confusion of trying to assimilate back into his family as an adult who is a husband and father. This is so much easier said than done and the process takes an emotional drain on everyone involved. I have quite the appreciation for my older siblings for going through it all with our parents first so that anything I have done in my adult life has been about as hard as eating a pan full of brownies. Poor Mike is the eldest of four.

I don't know what all this means exactly. I just felt like saying it - getting it off my chest. And I admit, perhaps I just need to see it in print so I can move on to the next step - whatever that is. Maybe we'll move when the economy picks up. Maybe we'll take frequent vacations away from the sucky weather and the mean drivers. Maybe I'll feel justified in eating mint chocolate chip ice cream every day.

Meanwhile, bear with me while I muddle through. And I promise to stop picking on NJ as soon as it stops living up to it's bad reputation.

Bump

2008-05-03T02:27:02Z

I'm the first to scream at expectant mothers that I want to see a photo of the pregnant belly, so I don't know why it took me so long to get this out there.

But here is more proof that I am, indeed, quite pregnant and everything is fine. Thanks for asking.

I'm approximately 24 weeks along in these photos.

Monster!

2008-04-30T00:50:10Z

Another perfectly good white boy goes to waste. And a talented one at that.

May 15th

2008-04-24T19:27:46Z

On May 15th the new babysitter/ Love Of My Life will be starting the Summer of Love with us. On that day I expect I will pace around the bedroom a few times wringing my hands, repeating "So much time! So much peace!" I'm not going to say that I won't know what to do with myself. The list is long.

This also means that I will have to fire the current babysitter. And it may surprise you to know that I find nothing fun about that. The problem has become, not so much her lack of creativity with August, but Augusts lack of respect for her. August bosses her around like a servant. It's true that she has been trying this Cleopatra persona out on everyone lately, including me, but I get to dish it back to her or ignore her completely when she's over the top. The babysitter... she's a bit lost with this. As a result, August has been telling me that she doesn't like the babysitter. Hard to argue with that.

But what to say? "It's not you, it's the kid. She just doesn't like you." A bit harsh, right?

On the other hand, judging from the way my child has been acting the last few days, the babysitter might have to stifle a huge sigh of relief when I tell her she longer has to endure August's unreasonable demands for - well, everything.

Out of Order

2008-04-22T03:38:27Z

I'm pretty sure I talked about this on my previous blog but what the hell. It's happening again.

We all have heard the being pregnant makes a woman more emotional. But to say that's what happens with me is like saying that the main result of the fall of the Berlin Wall was that it made a small section of Germany more breezy.
See what I mean? If you were pregnant, you'd get that.

Anyway, what happens to me when my hormones are messed with is that my emotional filter dissolves. Meaning, all the self control and wisdom I use to keep myself from being angry, crying or generally drawing too much attention to myself or my insecurities is gone. If I feel angry, I lash out. If I feel happy, I laugh. If I am moved or saddened, I cry. And no matter how much I prided myself in my ability to remain stoic and unfazed during times of stress in the past, these present days are littered with moments when my true emotions jump out there for all to see.

It's maddening for a self control freak like me.

That being said, the worst possible place for me to be is a family gathering. A gathering where I am not actually blood related to the family. One where dinner is served at 8:30 - 2 hours past my normal time to eat and a half hour past my daughter's bedtime.

The truth is, even on a good day, MJ's large family gatherings unnerve me. They yell and interrupt each other a lot. The atmosphere is chaotic and stressful compared to how I grew up. Each get-together sets me back a day or two on whatever discipline/schedule progress I've made with August. When I'm with them, I sort of feel invisible because I lack the energy or desire to scream loud enough to be heard. Baring in mind that these are totally nice people and I know I am lucky they are so kind and well intended. It does not change the fact that even after sharing their last name for 2 years, I still feel no more a part of their clan than I would feel a part of the Boston Red Sox if I attended all their home games.

And I think all of these things are the reasons why I left the Seder Saturday night and sat in the downstairs bathroom crying while everyone else was eating matzo ball soup.

Admitting that I am this lonely for some familiarity and this irritated by lack of connection to a family I should be able to trust and feel secure in is not something I ever wanted to do. Were I not pregnant and my emotions able to be controlled, I believe I would be still convincing myself that none of this matters. I would have eaten my soup, stumbled through the rest of the Seder with a convincing smile and possibly even enjoyed myself once I blocked out the fact that I have no meaningful conversations with anyone that do not revolve around my daughter. I wouldn't have been angry; I would have been numb. I would have liked that because with the stoic scenario, there is no possibility of hurting anyone's feelings.

But I don't have that luxury. I cried like a baby when we watched Juno in the cinema a month or so ago because I have an enormous amount of sympathy for teenage moms and mom-hopefuls. And I cried harder Saturday night because that is truly how sad I am most days to not have the relationship with my husband's family that I wish I did.

Sweat

2008-04-10T22:26:44Z

At the park today I actually broke a sweat. The sun came out like a rescue plane on LOST and all the mothers and toddlers flocked to the playground. They were weeping, tearing at their clothes. August looked at me with wide eyes and asked if God had come back.

If it goes back below 45 degrees in the next two days, I'm afraid there will be mass suicides in NJ. For now, life goes on.

Twits and Giggles

2008-04-04T19:59:36Z

I'm sort of in love with Twitter. This is likely because it doesn't make me feel guilty for writing short, meaningless sentences.

A sampling:

The Anxiety of Separateness

2008-04-01T20:42:25Z

I've been Googling this sentence:

"2 year old hates babysitter"

That should tell you how my afternoon is going.

Before I type the rest of this story, I feel obliged to inform you that everyone I know considers my daughter to be the best behaved child in the county, the country, the universe... okay EVER. She sincerely is adored and worshiped by all who know her. And so I can't, for the life of me (as my mother says), figure out why she has succumbed to the commonplace actions of a typical two year old.

I remember the first few times I heard her say the word "No". It was cute. Look at her, I thought. My daughter, asserting herself. She knows what she wants!

But here lately, when she says it robotically, repeatedly, what I am thinking is, You will not win, you little turd. I am bigger, wiser and I will not let you break me.

Thankfully, she cannot read my mind - though I swear she's trying. She looks at me with the contempt of Stewie. She searches my eyes for any sign of weakness.

But the hardest part of parenting these days is when she is acting the opposite of what I've just spoken. She clings to me as if we are on a sinking ship and I am her only hope. And at no other time is this drama higher than when the babysitter arrives once a week to give me a much needed three hour break from mommy-hood. You would think our 15 year old, cheerleader babysitter is a 300 pond monster who wields a cigarette as a disciplinary tool. Granted, the sitter isn't exactly the brightest star in these polluted skies, she is certainly nice. And I am always here, within listening distance, all three hours of this torture. I am merely upstairs, typing a blog entry for example.

The Great Wise Internet tells me this is just a phase. I've concluded that is what most of parenting is. Outlasting the Phases without damaging you or the child too much. I've given up on not damaging her at all. I dig my heals in for her early teens. At some point, I expect her to hate me.

But not now. Right now she adores me, needs me. If anything she is dependent upon me as someone with who she can safely try out her newly discovered ability to demand M&M's and "One more book". She needs to practice reading minds. She will need this ability when she gets married someday or tries to work through health insurance problems.

Rock Bottom

2008-03-31T02:42:29Z

I had big thoughts to speak of but just spent the last hour trying to figure out why my Twitter badge (See green square, upper right) displays my quotation marks all screwy. Now I'm exhausted from struggling with discouraged brain cells. And my ass is numb.

Goodnight.

Coming Down

2008-03-20T12:44:20Z

Florida was beautiful. I had no idea Orlando was so hip with it's flashy fountains and craftsman style houses backed right up to central downtown. I also did not think through the lack of sun in March. Luckily, however, we did get enough days of deadly UVs for both Mike and I to sunburn a bit. Of course August was thoroughly protected and has not a red patch on her. Just so you know we are good parents.

Here's a few pictures from our trip - complete with an obligatory shot of my belly on the beach. I am delighted that I have yet to get stretch marks from pregnancy, though Mother Nature has evened out the score by giving me hair that like I am starring in Wayne's World III and a complexion liken to that of a rightfully depressed 14 year old boy.

But doesn't August look like magic? And I want to eat Mike in his new glasses.

First haircut by Uncle Gio. He has a Salon there.

In the pool with Jenn, Uncle Matt's girlfriend.

Aunt Joanne & Uncle GioLunch at the Winter Park Arts Festival

( More pictures on my Flickr account. Create an account to view if you don't already have one. )

We May Never Come Back

2008-03-11T02:17:03Z

Countdown to Florida. Ten hours or so until we hit the road to the Atlantic City Airport.

Yep! All clear from the Doc.

And guess what else the Doc said?

Looks like we're having a boy. Holy crappa.

I'll write from the poolside. Be jealous.