We departed Pennsylvania on Monday morning and made it to the state line by 3pm, which was good timing. As we were about out of the state, I got a call to learn that my Mom was being admitted to the hospital because she was having difficulty breathing. So the visit that started with Dad in the psych ward ended with Mom in the ER.
My wife was not feeling well most of the trip and wondered about the onset of a migraine. Midway through Ohio we were certain and by the time we reached Ann Arbor she was at a 10 for pain. Her sheer will got her home without puking. Mr. Man did not fall asleep as I anticipated so when we arrived home at 11pm this was the scenario:
My wife runs into the house, ignores the cat who is desperately seeking attention and beelines to the bathroom to begin puking. I carry the few essentials into the house with Mr. Man. I put the food items in the kitchen and he and I head upstairs. I know my wife is puking and I HATE puke. I yell at Mr. Man to run and hide in his room. He gets upset and goes back to his hissy fit about how he wants to assemble legos. My wife needs water, so I go and get some and give it to her with my eyes closed so I don't see the puke that has gathered in the bucket. I go back to the screaming child and dodge the bites and scratching of the cat, who is still desperately seeking attention. I try to get Mr. Man settled but I'm flipping out about the puke and the sheer chaos of everything and I'm not helping anyone. When I return to the bathroom my wife, who is smart but not lucid, has begun dumping the puke down the drain in the tub - which promptly backs up. There's absolutely no way I can deal with that, so I flip out some more. I forget what happens next. My wife tries to clean up the bathroom and console my son. At some point I go back in with Mr. Man and I help him calm down, explain why I'm upset and we go to sleep. My wife sleeps in the bedroom alone and in pain.
The next morning I am supposed to go to work, but my wife is still very sick and cannot be with Mr. Man alone, so I stay home. I am worn out from last night and I have little reserves to call on. After cleaning the shit off the wall and floor that the cat left for us, I begin putting legos together with Mr. Man, who is very hyper. Let's just say I won't kill you, but I'm not a very pleasant mom to be with.
It's at this point that I realize that I used every ounce of energy to get through the visit with my family and that now I have nothing left to call on. When we were visiting my family, my wife and I made it through and supported each other, for which I'm grateful. Now I'm just mad that everything took such a toll. Regardless, I feel worthless - not able to care for my son or to help my wife.
Tuesday, December 27, 2005
Highlights Part I: The Last Trek Home
We left at 8:00 pm on Thursday night to drive for the next 12 hours while Mr. Man slept. This was the beginning of my last driving trip home to Pennsylvania for a holiday visit with my family. It was a short one, lasting only Friday morning to Monday morning. I made it until about 3am, when I had to pull over for a 45 minute snooze. Fortunately Mr. Man did sleep most of the night from about 11pm until about 6:30 am. My wife and I were able to have good conversation, which is largely impossible for more than 2 hours with a sitter any other time in our life. This was excellent and was what kept me going. We arrived home at my mother's house at 8:30 am, which was amazing timing and a relatively painless trip (aside from the not sleeping).
The first excitement was my father, who apparently went off his meds early in the week and was hospitalized in the mental health unit on Monday. I was quite ticked at this, as this was going to be my last visit before our cross-country move and I did not want Mr. Man visiting his Gramps in the mental ward. But when we arrive Friday morning, I learn that Dad is not in the nice family-friendly hospital, rather the yucky institution housed in the large estate about an hour away. I learn at 9am that the clinic has no discharge date for him and that they don't allow visitors under age 10. When I talk to Dad, he is insistent that he is getting out of the hospital for the holidays and if I need to, I should call his Senator to get him released. During a pause in our conversation he says his psychiatrist is releasing him today. I don't know what to believe, so I give him my phone number and tell him I'll check back in with him a bit later.
Meanwhile we make plans with my mother to meet her for lunch. In a bit I get a phone call from the clinic saying they are releasing my father and could I come pick him up. I agree on a 3pm pickup. We meet my mother and have lunch, drop Mr. Man off with her at her office to stay with her while my wife and I go pick up Dad. I am freaking out the whole time because Mom's chronic disease has clearly been taking its toll and I worry about her ability to care for Mr. Man and drive him home safely in the car that's too old to safely affix his car seat.
My wife and I find ourselves on another hour drive to the clinic to pick up Dad and arrive later than planned. They release him from the horrid facility and we spend the next hour driving him home listening to him go on about how things are changing, cigarettes are healthy, cleansing and healing and how it's going to get really warm and spring is going to come. We discuss plans for Christmas Day and he says he really wants to see his mom, so we make plans for my brother, Dad, my wife, Mr. Man and myself to drive over to her house on Sunday. We drop him off at his home.
I've had 45 minutes of sleep in the last 40 hours and return to my mothers' house for dinner. My moms are excited we've come to celebrate their giving of many gifts. I have no money and have come with no gifts for anyone save a few homemade art projects of Mr. Man. I just want to sink into the earth and be swallowed whole.
My brother comes home from work, reports that he talked to Dad about our plans to go to our grandmother's house on Christmas Day and he is pissed that no one asked him. He is angry and does not want to go. Apparently he didn't express that to Dad, just to me. I make a mental note to negotiate with Dad tomorrow on behalf of my brother. It's midnight and I go to bed.
The next day I negotiate a settlement between my grandmother and Dad to have her come to Dad's house on Christmas Day. She is passive aggressive because she is 75, plays the organ in church early that morning, has a 45 minute drive and can't see in the dark. Dad and my brother are equally unpleasant about the whole settlement. The three of us head to Dad's house for lunch. We endure Dad saying that one day we will eat beef because when we eat animals they attain spiritual enlightenment. Go back to eating your California burger, Dad.
We return to my mothers' house on Christmas Eve for a larger family gathering of aunts, uncles and cousins. I drink Jack and ginger ale. After everyone else goes to bed, my brother and I flip around the channels and he falls asleep while I watch the end of Good Will Hunting.
The next day my mothers' house celebrates Christmas and I realize my son has turned into greedy guts, in search of the most presents. The same thing happens at Dad's house, where Mr. Man receives 4 huge boxes of Lego sets to assemble. I begin working with Mr. Man to assemble the fire rescue helicopter with 260 pieces. I drink wine and the helicopter sort of works. We progress on to my uncle's house for post-Christmas dinner. We play games and depart on my uncle's story of how he caught a 13-foot, 300-lb shark and had to beat it and gut it so that they could get it ashore safely. And, yes, he ate it.
I am exhausted. My last trip home to Pennsylvania for a while is all that I expected, plus more. We leave the land I love and the people called my family. When I cry I don't know if it's because I'm sad or relieved.
The first excitement was my father, who apparently went off his meds early in the week and was hospitalized in the mental health unit on Monday. I was quite ticked at this, as this was going to be my last visit before our cross-country move and I did not want Mr. Man visiting his Gramps in the mental ward. But when we arrive Friday morning, I learn that Dad is not in the nice family-friendly hospital, rather the yucky institution housed in the large estate about an hour away. I learn at 9am that the clinic has no discharge date for him and that they don't allow visitors under age 10. When I talk to Dad, he is insistent that he is getting out of the hospital for the holidays and if I need to, I should call his Senator to get him released. During a pause in our conversation he says his psychiatrist is releasing him today. I don't know what to believe, so I give him my phone number and tell him I'll check back in with him a bit later.
Meanwhile we make plans with my mother to meet her for lunch. In a bit I get a phone call from the clinic saying they are releasing my father and could I come pick him up. I agree on a 3pm pickup. We meet my mother and have lunch, drop Mr. Man off with her at her office to stay with her while my wife and I go pick up Dad. I am freaking out the whole time because Mom's chronic disease has clearly been taking its toll and I worry about her ability to care for Mr. Man and drive him home safely in the car that's too old to safely affix his car seat.
My wife and I find ourselves on another hour drive to the clinic to pick up Dad and arrive later than planned. They release him from the horrid facility and we spend the next hour driving him home listening to him go on about how things are changing, cigarettes are healthy, cleansing and healing and how it's going to get really warm and spring is going to come. We discuss plans for Christmas Day and he says he really wants to see his mom, so we make plans for my brother, Dad, my wife, Mr. Man and myself to drive over to her house on Sunday. We drop him off at his home.
I've had 45 minutes of sleep in the last 40 hours and return to my mothers' house for dinner. My moms are excited we've come to celebrate their giving of many gifts. I have no money and have come with no gifts for anyone save a few homemade art projects of Mr. Man. I just want to sink into the earth and be swallowed whole.
My brother comes home from work, reports that he talked to Dad about our plans to go to our grandmother's house on Christmas Day and he is pissed that no one asked him. He is angry and does not want to go. Apparently he didn't express that to Dad, just to me. I make a mental note to negotiate with Dad tomorrow on behalf of my brother. It's midnight and I go to bed.
The next day I negotiate a settlement between my grandmother and Dad to have her come to Dad's house on Christmas Day. She is passive aggressive because she is 75, plays the organ in church early that morning, has a 45 minute drive and can't see in the dark. Dad and my brother are equally unpleasant about the whole settlement. The three of us head to Dad's house for lunch. We endure Dad saying that one day we will eat beef because when we eat animals they attain spiritual enlightenment. Go back to eating your California burger, Dad.
We return to my mothers' house on Christmas Eve for a larger family gathering of aunts, uncles and cousins. I drink Jack and ginger ale. After everyone else goes to bed, my brother and I flip around the channels and he falls asleep while I watch the end of Good Will Hunting.
The next day my mothers' house celebrates Christmas and I realize my son has turned into greedy guts, in search of the most presents. The same thing happens at Dad's house, where Mr. Man receives 4 huge boxes of Lego sets to assemble. I begin working with Mr. Man to assemble the fire rescue helicopter with 260 pieces. I drink wine and the helicopter sort of works. We progress on to my uncle's house for post-Christmas dinner. We play games and depart on my uncle's story of how he caught a 13-foot, 300-lb shark and had to beat it and gut it so that they could get it ashore safely. And, yes, he ate it.
I am exhausted. My last trip home to Pennsylvania for a while is all that I expected, plus more. We leave the land I love and the people called my family. When I cry I don't know if it's because I'm sad or relieved.
Tuesday, December 20, 2005
Longest Night
Happy Solstice. My wife encouraged me to take tomorrow off so we could be together. I'm so happy I listened to her. No alarms are set for tomorrow and we have fun plans.
Meanwhile, I have now turned down two jobs from last week's interviews. I got another call today for two positions that I thought I had been eliminated from. Perhaps the new year will bring more news.
Meanwhile, I have now turned down two jobs from last week's interviews. I got another call today for two positions that I thought I had been eliminated from. Perhaps the new year will bring more news.
Monday, December 19, 2005
Dilemma
So, I have one offer and I turned down the job that was simply not enough money. The offer outstanding is under salary negotiations, and even at best I'm not sure I'd accept. The salary is low, which wouldn't be so bad if I didn't have to pay $400 a month to get health insurance benefits for Mr. Man! Yikes, I guess I'm learning that I have a good package where I'm at.
However, my current employer is showing its true colors and a love for its own selfish interests. I left last week with two people telling me to my face that they hope I don't get a job. Now said current employer would like me to consider offering February 1 as a start date. Hello? Today is December 19th. What part of the last nine months did you not have to prepare for the fact I am leaving??? Much anger, bitterness and a total lack of interest or motivation to do any work.
Meanwhile, the Dream Job of the ones I interviewed for last week won't be moving further along in its decision until after the new year. They have confirmed that I am a candidate that they would be interested in, but they haven't interviewed the rest of the candidates and I have no guarantee that if I turned down the offer on the table that I would get the Dream Job.
Decisions, decisions. Screw my family with a lowball offer or screw my family by gambling and getting no offer to get us out of here...
However, my current employer is showing its true colors and a love for its own selfish interests. I left last week with two people telling me to my face that they hope I don't get a job. Now said current employer would like me to consider offering February 1 as a start date. Hello? Today is December 19th. What part of the last nine months did you not have to prepare for the fact I am leaving??? Much anger, bitterness and a total lack of interest or motivation to do any work.
Meanwhile, the Dream Job of the ones I interviewed for last week won't be moving further along in its decision until after the new year. They have confirmed that I am a candidate that they would be interested in, but they haven't interviewed the rest of the candidates and I have no guarantee that if I turned down the offer on the table that I would get the Dream Job.
Decisions, decisions. Screw my family with a lowball offer or screw my family by gambling and getting no offer to get us out of here...
Thursday, December 15, 2005
Need my Family
Today was the long day and it's over. At this point I'm exhausted and I want to be in the arms of my family. I got up really early and left around 8am to go take my tests at the transit company. I did better than I thought I would on Access. Scored fine on the rest, despite the fact they were on PCs. (Who actually uses PCs happily?) From there I go on to make the next interview in 30 minutes, which would have been okay, had the bus not been late and then the Hawthorne Bridge gone up. I was 15 minutes late and called ahead to tell them my problem. I got there and they all understood, because they, too, all used transit. This panel interview asked some good questions, the job is comparable to what I do now and the people seem nice. They gave me a budget exercise to complete in Excel. No sweat.
Then I hopped back on the bus to go back to interview at the transit company. My first panel interview is with the leaders of the department I'd be working with. They ask good questions and the interview is fun. I like everyone around the table. Everyone wants to know why I want to move to Portland. When I describe why and what I think Portland has to offer, one of the marketing coordinators says, "Oh, so you're part of the young creative class." For a minute I forget I'm talking to marketing folks and realize I've just been pigeonholed into marketing research. Sure, I say. Actually, I was flattered by the young part. At the end of the interview, they suggest I wait in the library for my next interview with a different panel, which happens in an hour. There's really a library at the transit company, complete with 2 librarians and plenty of resources on all kinds of stuff - mass transit, public planning, anti-car stuff, etc. So the librarian sets me up with the intranet, where I get to check out organizational charts, strategies and other employee stuff. Then I get called for the next panel. This panel consists of other administrative and mid-level managers from a broader spectrum in the division. This interview was also fun and I like all the people around the table again. They ask me the work-related questions and then they ask me the fun questions, like what song or poem has deep meaning for me or what would a semester look like for me if I could take all the classes I've always wanted. (The answers were After All by Dar Williams and Spanish, Ceramics and Knitting.)
Following this interview, I head back to the hostel. I'm exhausted and I have work to do and schoolwork to finish in addition to packing to get ready for an early flight. I check in with my wife and Mr. Man says his tummy hurts. I have an immediate gut-level feeling that he's going to puke. I ignore it because I'm a freak about puke and obsess about puke getting anywhere. They are going to bed soon and I plan to check in with my wife after Mr. Man is asleep.
I decide not to venture out to find a vegan restaurant I was considering. I'm tired so I go back to Vege Thai because I know it's good and close. Here I find that I've developed my first friend in Portland. The man who owns the restaurant is happy to see me and we talk about my day and how I like the vegan chicken. I tell him it's okay, but next time I would just stick with the tofu. He is sad that I can't come tomorrow when he'll be getting in special tofu. I tell him I'll be back and likely become a regular. We agree to see each other soon.
I'm exhausted and dreading returning to work, especially after reading my email. I have to pack and have no idea how I'm going to make everything I picked up here fit. This is where my wife would ordinarily take over. Soon I get a call from her and she reports that Mr. Man has projectile vomited all over the bedroom and a friend is on the way over to help clean up, because someone needs to stay with him. I feel so intensely bad that she has to do this by herself. My baby is sick and I'm not there! I want to be home now so I can help, even though I detest vomit. I miss my peeps. I'm going to pack and pout a bit.
Then I hopped back on the bus to go back to interview at the transit company. My first panel interview is with the leaders of the department I'd be working with. They ask good questions and the interview is fun. I like everyone around the table. Everyone wants to know why I want to move to Portland. When I describe why and what I think Portland has to offer, one of the marketing coordinators says, "Oh, so you're part of the young creative class." For a minute I forget I'm talking to marketing folks and realize I've just been pigeonholed into marketing research. Sure, I say. Actually, I was flattered by the young part. At the end of the interview, they suggest I wait in the library for my next interview with a different panel, which happens in an hour. There's really a library at the transit company, complete with 2 librarians and plenty of resources on all kinds of stuff - mass transit, public planning, anti-car stuff, etc. So the librarian sets me up with the intranet, where I get to check out organizational charts, strategies and other employee stuff. Then I get called for the next panel. This panel consists of other administrative and mid-level managers from a broader spectrum in the division. This interview was also fun and I like all the people around the table again. They ask me the work-related questions and then they ask me the fun questions, like what song or poem has deep meaning for me or what would a semester look like for me if I could take all the classes I've always wanted. (The answers were After All by Dar Williams and Spanish, Ceramics and Knitting.)
Following this interview, I head back to the hostel. I'm exhausted and I have work to do and schoolwork to finish in addition to packing to get ready for an early flight. I check in with my wife and Mr. Man says his tummy hurts. I have an immediate gut-level feeling that he's going to puke. I ignore it because I'm a freak about puke and obsess about puke getting anywhere. They are going to bed soon and I plan to check in with my wife after Mr. Man is asleep.
I decide not to venture out to find a vegan restaurant I was considering. I'm tired so I go back to Vege Thai because I know it's good and close. Here I find that I've developed my first friend in Portland. The man who owns the restaurant is happy to see me and we talk about my day and how I like the vegan chicken. I tell him it's okay, but next time I would just stick with the tofu. He is sad that I can't come tomorrow when he'll be getting in special tofu. I tell him I'll be back and likely become a regular. We agree to see each other soon.
I'm exhausted and dreading returning to work, especially after reading my email. I have to pack and have no idea how I'm going to make everything I picked up here fit. This is where my wife would ordinarily take over. Soon I get a call from her and she reports that Mr. Man has projectile vomited all over the bedroom and a friend is on the way over to help clean up, because someone needs to stay with him. I feel so intensely bad that she has to do this by herself. My baby is sick and I'm not there! I want to be home now so I can help, even though I detest vomit. I miss my peeps. I'm going to pack and pout a bit.
Wednesday, December 14, 2005
Freaky Geek Porn
A few more thoughts for today.
The weather here has been wonderful - sunny! Who knew it would be sunny for two solid days--and it's forecast to be clear tomorrow. Apparently there's a weather thing here called freezing fog. Not sure exactly what that is. Perhaps you have to be near the river to see it. But it's talked about a lot. The clear skies have shown a beautiful full moon last night and tonight.
So I ventured down the street to Vege Thai for dinner. I thought it kind of odd when I looked at the menu and saw fish and chicken as section headings. I thought it was a vegetarian restaurant. The menu keeps referring to protein choice and I look closer and realize that everything is vegetarian. They serve veggie meat substitutes - including fish, shrimp, chicken and pepper steak. Soy fish??? Soy shrimp???? I never liked fish or seafood as a carnivore, so I'm not motivated to try them, but I was so curious. Anyway, they weren't vegan. I know because the owner kindly went to check the soy ham. He came back and informed me it wasn't vegan because it has whey in it. I was so geeked that he knew and cared enough to check the ingredients. He does have vegan chicken, but he was out.
So I started with marinated tofu with peanut sauce. The tofu was in long strips on skewers, marinated and grilled. The peanut sauce was light and wonderful. There were 4 skewers - it was practically a whole brick of tofu! My entree was pineapple curry. This was not just any curry. It was an amazing fusion of fresh veggies and fruit. The bamboo was freshly grated. Who knew bamboo was so sweet when it's not canned? The pineapple was fresh. It also had broccoli, cauliflower, a few cherry tomatoes and my protein choice was tempeh. Top it all off with fresh springs of Thai basil. It was simply amazing. I've always wanted to taste Thai basil, but I haven't scoured all the asian markets at home to find it. It's awesome. The curry was served with fresh brown rice that was plated in a the shape of an inverted bowl. The jasmine tea was freshly brewed and heartwarming. An amazing meal for a grand total of $13.
I left completely full and happy. I continued walking down Hawthorne, browsed at the Goddess Gallery Garden before heading down to Powell's. When I got to Powell's I found not one, but two. One regular Powell's and a Powell's specifically for cooks and gardeners. I decided to step into In Other Words, the feminist women's bookstore directly across the street. I picked up even more free literature and a book for Mr. Man. It was actually hard not to buy more.
But my goal for the evening was to get to Food Fight!, the vegan grocer. So I ventured on. Food Fight! is a tiny store, but with lots of fun stuff. They have a freezer and refrigerated section, lots of goodies (candy, doughnuts, chocolates and truffles), zines and cookbooks and lots of fun vegan info with an attitude. If I didn't have such a full bag I would have bought more. Here's what I couldn't resist:
So I've had the doughnut and it was simply amazing. The store also sold lots of fake meat products - including shrimp. I didn't even look in great detail at everything because the whole vegan fish and shrimp thing is sort of weirding me out. A fun store. I was the 3rd customer of the day from out of town. Wait until my wife learns you can shop online.
I waited for the bus back to Hawthorne in front of a store that sells juggling equipment. My wife says that Portland is like porn for freaky geeks. I totally agree. I can't wait to move here.
The weather here has been wonderful - sunny! Who knew it would be sunny for two solid days--and it's forecast to be clear tomorrow. Apparently there's a weather thing here called freezing fog. Not sure exactly what that is. Perhaps you have to be near the river to see it. But it's talked about a lot. The clear skies have shown a beautiful full moon last night and tonight.
So I ventured down the street to Vege Thai for dinner. I thought it kind of odd when I looked at the menu and saw fish and chicken as section headings. I thought it was a vegetarian restaurant. The menu keeps referring to protein choice and I look closer and realize that everything is vegetarian. They serve veggie meat substitutes - including fish, shrimp, chicken and pepper steak. Soy fish??? Soy shrimp???? I never liked fish or seafood as a carnivore, so I'm not motivated to try them, but I was so curious. Anyway, they weren't vegan. I know because the owner kindly went to check the soy ham. He came back and informed me it wasn't vegan because it has whey in it. I was so geeked that he knew and cared enough to check the ingredients. He does have vegan chicken, but he was out.
So I started with marinated tofu with peanut sauce. The tofu was in long strips on skewers, marinated and grilled. The peanut sauce was light and wonderful. There were 4 skewers - it was practically a whole brick of tofu! My entree was pineapple curry. This was not just any curry. It was an amazing fusion of fresh veggies and fruit. The bamboo was freshly grated. Who knew bamboo was so sweet when it's not canned? The pineapple was fresh. It also had broccoli, cauliflower, a few cherry tomatoes and my protein choice was tempeh. Top it all off with fresh springs of Thai basil. It was simply amazing. I've always wanted to taste Thai basil, but I haven't scoured all the asian markets at home to find it. It's awesome. The curry was served with fresh brown rice that was plated in a the shape of an inverted bowl. The jasmine tea was freshly brewed and heartwarming. An amazing meal for a grand total of $13.
I left completely full and happy. I continued walking down Hawthorne, browsed at the Goddess Gallery Garden before heading down to Powell's. When I got to Powell's I found not one, but two. One regular Powell's and a Powell's specifically for cooks and gardeners. I decided to step into In Other Words, the feminist women's bookstore directly across the street. I picked up even more free literature and a book for Mr. Man. It was actually hard not to buy more.
But my goal for the evening was to get to Food Fight!, the vegan grocer. So I ventured on. Food Fight! is a tiny store, but with lots of fun stuff. They have a freezer and refrigerated section, lots of goodies (candy, doughnuts, chocolates and truffles), zines and cookbooks and lots of fun vegan info with an attitude. If I didn't have such a full bag I would have bought more. Here's what I couldn't resist:
- a chocolate marble swirl doughnut from the company my wife talks about (for my dessert)
- a kind of soy jerkey I can't get back at home (for me to snack on between my 4 appointments tomorrow)
- a fun zine-like vegan cookbook
- marshmallow spread!!!! (so we can enjoy fluffernutters when I get home!)
- Tuno (really and truly a vegan tuna substitute. I just had to buy a can to satisfy my curiosity
- a surprise for my family.
So I've had the doughnut and it was simply amazing. The store also sold lots of fake meat products - including shrimp. I didn't even look in great detail at everything because the whole vegan fish and shrimp thing is sort of weirding me out. A fun store. I was the 3rd customer of the day from out of town. Wait until my wife learns you can shop online.
I waited for the bus back to Hawthorne in front of a store that sells juggling equipment. My wife says that Portland is like porn for freaky geeks. I totally agree. I can't wait to move here.
More Wow and Maybe a Job.
Here in the Mt. Hood Room I sleep by this bank of windows that faces southeast. (For reference, the furniture has been rearranged and there's a double bed where they picture a bunk.) I woke up today and noticed this pink glow. I peeked out the window and saw the most amazing sunrise. Since the hostel is perched up a bit and I'm on the second floor the view was amazing.
The hostel reminds me of staying in Biker Boy's apartment, with that hippie herb-loving smell. The bathroom was scary and kitchen not clean to my standards, but somehow these quirks are comforting. I'm much happier here than I would have been in a sterile hotel. At least here I get to learn at the breakfast table that one of the men slept somewhere outside (porch, deck perhaps?) in his boxers in a mummy sack.
I spent the morning preparing for my interviews and researching one of the organizations. I got ready to go and before leaving the hostel I embarrassed myself and the nice Asian man who open the bathroom door that I had not locked. Well, one peak of me with my pants down at my knees for him.
I took the #14 to the #6 to scout out the state office building, the site of my first interview. On the trip I pass a gas station that sells biodiesel for $2.90 a gallon. Thought lovingly of my wife, who will no doubt make us trade in our Subaru for a used diesel Volvo at the first opportunity.
I had time to spare before my interview so I went to the nearby Lloyd Center, a huge consumer den of hell. It's your typical huge mall with food court and movie theatres where you can be accosted by a variety of kiosk sales people. The beauty, however, is that it has an indoor ice rink. I took my Starbucks mocha and sat in a comfy chair overlooking the rink and watched everyone skate. There were young girls and young men from beginners to advanced skaters. My favorite was this older couple, probably in their mid to late 60s, skating flawlessly and gracefully as a couple. While I was watching skaters, my 2:00 interview called to reschedule for tomorrow because the primary person was sick. My schedule for tomorrow is now jam packed.
I walked back to the state building and poked around in the lobby. One bulletin board announced that the building was supportive of breastfeeding moms and that a breastfeeding lounge was on the 8th floor. A handwritten sign on the door announced that a WIC organics meeting was happening in a conference room. There was a kiosk sponsored by the Lloyd District Transportation Association promoting commuting. Their ads resemble comics. My favorite was one that said: "The price of gas too high?" and it depicted a sign the following prices of regular, midgrade and premium gas: "Arm, Leg, Soul."
My interview went well. It was a scripted, screening interview that will be followed by a second interview with the Director. If I had known I would have tried to do the screening interview by phone and set up a 2nd interview with the Director in-person now, but oh well. Of course, they want to do second interviews next week and get someone hired ASAP.
When I came out of the interview, I turned on my phone and listened to a message from another organization wanting to discuss a position with me. I sat in the state office building lobby, had a long phone conversation with the woman and we agreed that I would come over and meet with her and her boss that afternoon. I hopped on the Max and was there 20 minutes later. I did their interview and met their staff. I think they would hire me, but they want to know if I'm really interested because the salary is below my minimum. I'm sure a long conversation with my wife will take place tonight.
I'm about to go to dinner a Vege Thai, reputed to have really good food, and a bunch vegan. After that I'm off to Food Fight Foods, an all-vegan grocer. I'll probably also stop off at Powell's on Hawthorne. I'm absolutely loving Hawthorne and I think we have to find a way to live in this district. All of the things I just mentioned are on the #14.
The hostel reminds me of staying in Biker Boy's apartment, with that hippie herb-loving smell. The bathroom was scary and kitchen not clean to my standards, but somehow these quirks are comforting. I'm much happier here than I would have been in a sterile hotel. At least here I get to learn at the breakfast table that one of the men slept somewhere outside (porch, deck perhaps?) in his boxers in a mummy sack.
I spent the morning preparing for my interviews and researching one of the organizations. I got ready to go and before leaving the hostel I embarrassed myself and the nice Asian man who open the bathroom door that I had not locked. Well, one peak of me with my pants down at my knees for him.
I took the #14 to the #6 to scout out the state office building, the site of my first interview. On the trip I pass a gas station that sells biodiesel for $2.90 a gallon. Thought lovingly of my wife, who will no doubt make us trade in our Subaru for a used diesel Volvo at the first opportunity.
I had time to spare before my interview so I went to the nearby Lloyd Center, a huge consumer den of hell. It's your typical huge mall with food court and movie theatres where you can be accosted by a variety of kiosk sales people. The beauty, however, is that it has an indoor ice rink. I took my Starbucks mocha and sat in a comfy chair overlooking the rink and watched everyone skate. There were young girls and young men from beginners to advanced skaters. My favorite was this older couple, probably in their mid to late 60s, skating flawlessly and gracefully as a couple. While I was watching skaters, my 2:00 interview called to reschedule for tomorrow because the primary person was sick. My schedule for tomorrow is now jam packed.
I walked back to the state building and poked around in the lobby. One bulletin board announced that the building was supportive of breastfeeding moms and that a breastfeeding lounge was on the 8th floor. A handwritten sign on the door announced that a WIC organics meeting was happening in a conference room. There was a kiosk sponsored by the Lloyd District Transportation Association promoting commuting. Their ads resemble comics. My favorite was one that said: "The price of gas too high?" and it depicted a sign the following prices of regular, midgrade and premium gas: "Arm, Leg, Soul."
My interview went well. It was a scripted, screening interview that will be followed by a second interview with the Director. If I had known I would have tried to do the screening interview by phone and set up a 2nd interview with the Director in-person now, but oh well. Of course, they want to do second interviews next week and get someone hired ASAP.
When I came out of the interview, I turned on my phone and listened to a message from another organization wanting to discuss a position with me. I sat in the state office building lobby, had a long phone conversation with the woman and we agreed that I would come over and meet with her and her boss that afternoon. I hopped on the Max and was there 20 minutes later. I did their interview and met their staff. I think they would hire me, but they want to know if I'm really interested because the salary is below my minimum. I'm sure a long conversation with my wife will take place tonight.
I'm about to go to dinner a Vege Thai, reputed to have really good food, and a bunch vegan. After that I'm off to Food Fight Foods, an all-vegan grocer. I'll probably also stop off at Powell's on Hawthorne. I'm absolutely loving Hawthorne and I think we have to find a way to live in this district. All of the things I just mentioned are on the #14.
Tuesday, December 13, 2005
Wow.
Not really sure what else to say. Day one has been quite something. It started out at a crazy 4am EST riding a Big Daddy Taxi to the airport. Once inside I got to watch TSA open and test their equipment because even the airport wasn't open yet. The flight to Chicago was uneventful, but I didn't get to rest or read as I thought I might. I was seated next to a woman who wore the same perfume as my grandmother and also resembled her in many ways. It was comforting in an odd way, even though I don't really have a great bond with my paternal grandmother. The woman sitting next to me brought her Shi Tzu on board in the same soft-sided carrier we have for our cat. The woman was very Christian and spoke about God a lot, but not in a bothersome way. Maybe because I would expect something similar from my grandmother. Anyway, turns out this woman and her dog are also on my flight to Portland. We have a fine time talking the whole way and she says she'll pray for me tomorrow when I'm interviewing. Who am I to complain?
I walk through most of Midway to get to my connecting gate and get to pass under the huge dinosaur skeleton which Mr. Man loves. I smile. I chill out for the next 45 minutes listening to tunes and reading. We board and I am in the 2nd to the last row and I think I'll dread this flight. I'm tired so I snooze for a bit and then they start a movie. It's Cinderella Man, a move I wouldn't ordinarily watch, but it's free and I don't want to read. I'm a sucker and its sappiness gets to me and I'm feeling all squishy for my family.
At this point I open the shade over the window and realize we're flying over beautiful snow-covered mountains. Not huge peaks, but rich textured ridges with sunlight and shadows making them crisp. I'm mesmerized and I stare spellbound for the rest of the flight. As we approach Portland, three giant peaks are off in the distance. Not sure which ones they were (Rainier, Hood, St. Helens?) but they were magnificent.
I was unable to pay any attention to the commotion going on behind me where a young woman passed out and needed medical assistance. I was simply looking out the window, listening to tunes. I can't wait to tell Mr. Man how beautiful and huge the Columbia River is!
After the paramedics removed the woman who passed out, I made my way through PDX to the Max. Couldn't be simpler - purchased ticket from machine and got on. Here's the poem that was nearest me:
"Every galosh is a glass slipper waiting to samba." - Willa Schneberg
Mr. Man will love the Max train. It's a "stretchy" bus for starters. It runs down the median of the streets, including down the middle of the freeway. People hang their bikes on these hooks. There are bike paths on every road I've seen, including those leading to and from the airport.
I get off the train and catch my two connecting buses with relative ease. A woman who rode the elevator with me after getting off the Max asked me if this was my first time on the Max. I asked her if I looked green. She said a little. Oh, well. I was just very happy to be in Portland. I admit it has taken me a bit to get used to the system and where to look for bus stops and figure out which direction I need to go, but I haven't gotten too lost yet!
I checked in at the Hawthorne Hostel, which is a cross between a co-op and a B&B. I'm staying in the Mt. Hood room, which faces the street, has great windows that let in lots of sunshine this afternoon and it overlooks the ecoroof, which is still growing marigolds! The hostel is right in the Hawthorne District, which is so us. I could live right here easily. Veg restaurants, fair trade stores, fun boutiques.
This is in stark contrast to the neighborhoods I scouted in the afternoon in search of some apartment possibilities. These neighborhoods were not fun and friendly with a sense of community. They were totally geared towards cars. Even though the Max runs right along the roads, it's a totally different feel with more emphasis on commuting than actually staying. Not friendly. So rule those areas off the list.
Not that we're looking to buy a house....but the houses are SO beautiful here. Great colors and textures and patterns. Not the midwestern neighborhoods I'm used to seeing!
I'm exhausted now. I had a great first day. Tomorrow I actually cross the river and go into the city for interviews #1 and #2.
I walk through most of Midway to get to my connecting gate and get to pass under the huge dinosaur skeleton which Mr. Man loves. I smile. I chill out for the next 45 minutes listening to tunes and reading. We board and I am in the 2nd to the last row and I think I'll dread this flight. I'm tired so I snooze for a bit and then they start a movie. It's Cinderella Man, a move I wouldn't ordinarily watch, but it's free and I don't want to read. I'm a sucker and its sappiness gets to me and I'm feeling all squishy for my family.
At this point I open the shade over the window and realize we're flying over beautiful snow-covered mountains. Not huge peaks, but rich textured ridges with sunlight and shadows making them crisp. I'm mesmerized and I stare spellbound for the rest of the flight. As we approach Portland, three giant peaks are off in the distance. Not sure which ones they were (Rainier, Hood, St. Helens?) but they were magnificent.
I was unable to pay any attention to the commotion going on behind me where a young woman passed out and needed medical assistance. I was simply looking out the window, listening to tunes. I can't wait to tell Mr. Man how beautiful and huge the Columbia River is!
After the paramedics removed the woman who passed out, I made my way through PDX to the Max. Couldn't be simpler - purchased ticket from machine and got on. Here's the poem that was nearest me:
"Every galosh is a glass slipper waiting to samba." - Willa Schneberg
Mr. Man will love the Max train. It's a "stretchy" bus for starters. It runs down the median of the streets, including down the middle of the freeway. People hang their bikes on these hooks. There are bike paths on every road I've seen, including those leading to and from the airport.
I get off the train and catch my two connecting buses with relative ease. A woman who rode the elevator with me after getting off the Max asked me if this was my first time on the Max. I asked her if I looked green. She said a little. Oh, well. I was just very happy to be in Portland. I admit it has taken me a bit to get used to the system and where to look for bus stops and figure out which direction I need to go, but I haven't gotten too lost yet!
I checked in at the Hawthorne Hostel, which is a cross between a co-op and a B&B. I'm staying in the Mt. Hood room, which faces the street, has great windows that let in lots of sunshine this afternoon and it overlooks the ecoroof, which is still growing marigolds! The hostel is right in the Hawthorne District, which is so us. I could live right here easily. Veg restaurants, fair trade stores, fun boutiques.
This is in stark contrast to the neighborhoods I scouted in the afternoon in search of some apartment possibilities. These neighborhoods were not fun and friendly with a sense of community. They were totally geared towards cars. Even though the Max runs right along the roads, it's a totally different feel with more emphasis on commuting than actually staying. Not friendly. So rule those areas off the list.
Not that we're looking to buy a house....but the houses are SO beautiful here. Great colors and textures and patterns. Not the midwestern neighborhoods I'm used to seeing!
I'm exhausted now. I had a great first day. Tomorrow I actually cross the river and go into the city for interviews #1 and #2.
Wednesday, December 07, 2005
More and Less
What she said with a little less pride, more dread for our house and tons more joy that the buyer for our house was approved for a mortgage!
This last week has been a whirlwind. Saw Melissa Ferrick in concert in a small venue and enjoyed Natalia Zuckerman's slide guitar. A good live show for my wife and I was a rare treat. Got my first call for an interview and did a phone screen on Friday, which went well. I hope to hear about moving on as a candidate this week. Meanwhile, my wife and I made the official plan to move as soon as we get a job, but if not, sell the house and move in early May. A tangible plan with a deadline has spurred me to action. I continue to apply for every position I can find. We've created an inventory of our belongs with a plan for getting rid of what we're not taking and a list of what we plan to buy when we get to Portland. I want to be in the House of Eris - West in '06 for the start of Mr. Man's 6th year.
Mr. Man and I enjoyed the frigid weather at our favorite nature center this weekend and the whole family and some friends enjoyed a great jam at the hippie restaurant in town with homegrown beer. Seems as we get ready to leave this city, it shows us its finest.
This last week has been a whirlwind. Saw Melissa Ferrick in concert in a small venue and enjoyed Natalia Zuckerman's slide guitar. A good live show for my wife and I was a rare treat. Got my first call for an interview and did a phone screen on Friday, which went well. I hope to hear about moving on as a candidate this week. Meanwhile, my wife and I made the official plan to move as soon as we get a job, but if not, sell the house and move in early May. A tangible plan with a deadline has spurred me to action. I continue to apply for every position I can find. We've created an inventory of our belongs with a plan for getting rid of what we're not taking and a list of what we plan to buy when we get to Portland. I want to be in the House of Eris - West in '06 for the start of Mr. Man's 6th year.
Mr. Man and I enjoyed the frigid weather at our favorite nature center this weekend and the whole family and some friends enjoyed a great jam at the hippie restaurant in town with homegrown beer. Seems as we get ready to leave this city, it shows us its finest.
Sunday, November 27, 2005
Aaahhhh...
I've spent 4 days enjoying family, cooking and eating food. I have NOT done any homework or work and it's a beautiful thing.
The day before most people sacrifice a turkey, I enjoyed the season's first snowfall. There's something comforting about snowfall on a holiday.
The fear of snow, however, kept my in-laws from traveling to our house for a feast. Our family was really bummed and my wife was quite sad that they didn't join us. Despite our disappointment and sadness at spending the day without family or friends, the three of us had a lovely day. Mr. Man worked on legos at the table while we cooked. We made a Tofurkey dinner, but I added a few things - like a vegan pot roast, gravy, mashed potatoes, cheezey veggie soup and cinnamon rolls at Mr. Man's request. Amazing amounts of good food.
My wife and I enjoyed watching a movie for two nights in a row. Unfortunately, both movies were average. Nonetheless, we cuddled, ate popcorn and watched a movie uninterrupted. I can't remember when we last did that. Top that with the fact that we flirted all weekend. Who knew that you could have romance in a marriage of 13 years?
This oasis of peace was briefly interrupted by the in-laws who descended upon the house with their rude behavior, child unfriendly conversation and general lack of consideration. Nonetheless Mr. Man got to see his Nana and Papa and I cooked another feast. This time we prepared an Unturkey for comparison's sake and I cooked more gravy, butternut squash soup and veggies. We enjoyed vegan apple pie while the other folks had pumpkin pie with whipped cream. Another very good meal.
I've got the remainder of today to enjoy and then it's back to reality. I wish I could stop the clock.
The day before most people sacrifice a turkey, I enjoyed the season's first snowfall. There's something comforting about snowfall on a holiday.
The fear of snow, however, kept my in-laws from traveling to our house for a feast. Our family was really bummed and my wife was quite sad that they didn't join us. Despite our disappointment and sadness at spending the day without family or friends, the three of us had a lovely day. Mr. Man worked on legos at the table while we cooked. We made a Tofurkey dinner, but I added a few things - like a vegan pot roast, gravy, mashed potatoes, cheezey veggie soup and cinnamon rolls at Mr. Man's request. Amazing amounts of good food.
My wife and I enjoyed watching a movie for two nights in a row. Unfortunately, both movies were average. Nonetheless, we cuddled, ate popcorn and watched a movie uninterrupted. I can't remember when we last did that. Top that with the fact that we flirted all weekend. Who knew that you could have romance in a marriage of 13 years?
This oasis of peace was briefly interrupted by the in-laws who descended upon the house with their rude behavior, child unfriendly conversation and general lack of consideration. Nonetheless Mr. Man got to see his Nana and Papa and I cooked another feast. This time we prepared an Unturkey for comparison's sake and I cooked more gravy, butternut squash soup and veggies. We enjoyed vegan apple pie while the other folks had pumpkin pie with whipped cream. Another very good meal.
I've got the remainder of today to enjoy and then it's back to reality. I wish I could stop the clock.
Monday, November 21, 2005
Tumbling
Have you seen the series of photos that shows a cat falling in slow motion? The cat tumbles and swivels, only to land on its feet. I want to be that cat. I'm stuck in the falling and I'm waiting for the landing.
My wife continues to suffer through days-long migraines and seems hopeless that she'll feel well again. Through the last few intense weeks we have not had enough time together to talk and share the tidbits of our sadly separate lives. We are adrift, desperately in need of shoring up.
We are in desperate need of some hope in the Moving to Portland chapter of our lives. We've said we're moving for 6 months now. We just showed the house to the prospective buyers. Our entire family is braced for a move. My employer wants me to leave already so they can replace me. Parents of Mr. Man's friends ask when we are moving. I placed 7 applications last week and was feeling very positive. But the panic that it's never going to happen keeps creeping in. I begin making desperate plans in my head, fantasizing about moving without a job, living off what we make from selling the house.
I can't seem to manage the realities of my life at home - paying bills, doing laundry, cleaning the house, cooking dinner. At work, I get by but seem to do half-assed work. I'm surviving in school, but counting the days until my semester ends. Actually getting out of bed and getting to work (not to mention on time) is a miracle.
Everywhere I look, I'm falling. I want to know when I land and where I am when that happens? I'm not a cat. Am I standing or lying on the ground in a crumpled mass?
My wife continues to suffer through days-long migraines and seems hopeless that she'll feel well again. Through the last few intense weeks we have not had enough time together to talk and share the tidbits of our sadly separate lives. We are adrift, desperately in need of shoring up.
We are in desperate need of some hope in the Moving to Portland chapter of our lives. We've said we're moving for 6 months now. We just showed the house to the prospective buyers. Our entire family is braced for a move. My employer wants me to leave already so they can replace me. Parents of Mr. Man's friends ask when we are moving. I placed 7 applications last week and was feeling very positive. But the panic that it's never going to happen keeps creeping in. I begin making desperate plans in my head, fantasizing about moving without a job, living off what we make from selling the house.
I can't seem to manage the realities of my life at home - paying bills, doing laundry, cleaning the house, cooking dinner. At work, I get by but seem to do half-assed work. I'm surviving in school, but counting the days until my semester ends. Actually getting out of bed and getting to work (not to mention on time) is a miracle.
Everywhere I look, I'm falling. I want to know when I land and where I am when that happens? I'm not a cat. Am I standing or lying on the ground in a crumpled mass?
Sunday, November 13, 2005
1214 Pieces
Last week we reached a negotiation with Mr. Man to trade in his duplo blocks that he got when he was 2 for the small legos that are age appropriate for him. We ended up with two sets of legos because the basic box of legos didn't have wheels, which is what he really wanted. So we purchased a complicated three-part set that allows the child to build a fire tractor with a rotating ladder and cherry picker as well as the add-on hitch for the life raft for water rescue. It came with three instruction books and a set of stickers. Mr. Man and I had a blast assembling it. My wife and a friend prepared chocolate chip cookies and hot cocoa, which we enjoyed as an intermission.
Mr. Man is gifted when it comes to spacial relations and visual orientation. I didn't believe it until I saw it myself, but he works the trinomial cube in 1 minute. His teacher says his next challenge is to do it blind-folded.
I love to watch him work.
Mr. Man is gifted when it comes to spacial relations and visual orientation. I didn't believe it until I saw it myself, but he works the trinomial cube in 1 minute. His teacher says his next challenge is to do it blind-folded.
I love to watch him work.
Saturday, November 12, 2005
Dented
The wind gusts and rubs against my raw skin and I ache. My two-week swing into darkness began and once again seems neverending. In this land I find myself unable to partition my emotions into appropriate moments and places. Panic and anxiety rear their head and I feel like a child scared in a thunderstorm, nervously tugging on the sleeves of my oversized fleece pullover. I continue to eat insane amounts of food although I feel no real hunger or fullness. I sunk to new lows in self-care, failing to drink any water or take daily vitamins several days this week.
Despite my reluctance, I seriously contemplated calling for a prescription. If only I could regulate my cycle, I think, perhaps whatever other issues unrelated to my cycle would be easier to cope with. I think it's all a lie - the medication and the supposed relief. I fear I'm simply as crazy as my parents.
Reading aloud to Mr. Man is my favorite grounding activity. In fact, being near him is entirely satisfying. I feel guilty using his company as comfort. Given my state, it seems best to shield him from me.
My wife loves me through it all. I tell her I am a dented can, best to be left on the shelf. She says she loves me anyway. When she approaches me, it's as if I'm a deer injured by a passing car. I don't really want to be that broken, but I am.
Despite my reluctance, I seriously contemplated calling for a prescription. If only I could regulate my cycle, I think, perhaps whatever other issues unrelated to my cycle would be easier to cope with. I think it's all a lie - the medication and the supposed relief. I fear I'm simply as crazy as my parents.
Reading aloud to Mr. Man is my favorite grounding activity. In fact, being near him is entirely satisfying. I feel guilty using his company as comfort. Given my state, it seems best to shield him from me.
My wife loves me through it all. I tell her I am a dented can, best to be left on the shelf. She says she loves me anyway. When she approaches me, it's as if I'm a deer injured by a passing car. I don't really want to be that broken, but I am.
Monday, November 07, 2005
Kickass Kids
In the middle of my longing for another baby and their miniature beauty, I was inundated this past weekend by examples of how cool kids are as they grow older and become thoughtful, communicative kids. I think I spent my weekend in one of those Bill Cosby clips where he sits down with kids and just talks to them and the kids say the most profound, hysterical things.
I spent much of my time with Mr. Man this weekend relaxing and staying low-key. I skipped out of work early on Friday for parent teacher conferences and then a long walk on the river trail with Mr. Man. He rode his bike and I walked as fast as possible in a failed attempt to keep up with him. The weather was beautiful and balmy - 70 degrees at the afternoon peak. While he did enjoy speeding off, I love that he stopped to collect a piece of bark and a huge maple leaf and attach them to his bike. He said hello to everyone he passed on the river trail, infecting even the grumpiest runner on the trail. It's a moment burned into my happiness memory bank.
Saturday night we enjoyed some quiet time reading the book Earth From Above, a beautiful collection of vivid photographs of people, animals and landscapes taken from a helicopter. The photographs are accompanied by descriptions of the region, the people or climates. Mr. Man was rightfully dismayed when, after viewing pictures of elephants, whales and a flock of scarlet ibis, he learned that humans were the biggest threat to these animals. (Artifical flowers, people! We kill the scarlet ibis to make artificial flowers!!!) After a few pages on the same theme of humans suck, Mr. Man turned to me and said, "We should give this book to all...hunt--...people who eat meat." He started to say hunters, but changed his mind mid-sentence to stipulate that carnivores should read the book. I don't know whether I'm tickled that he categorizes hunters and carnivores together or that he broadened his understanding of cruelty to include meat-eating.
Sunday I performed at the local health food store and enjoyed all the kids of varying ages who approached me and explored the harp. I invite kids to come up to touch the harp and pluck strings. I like explaining vibration, sound and resonance to the older ones. This day the younger ones were thrilled and excited to play and one exclaimed, "I'm making music!" to his parents. My favorite interaction was with a girl, maybe 8, who has a definite intuitive understanding of music. We discussed octaves and which strings were which musical notes and how my music was printed on a grand staff and how the range of her violin corresponded to the strings on a harp. In the middle of this great conversation, she abruptly states, "Did you know Rosa Parks died a few weeks ago?" I confirmed my knowledge and asked her what she knew about Rosa. She reported that Rosa Parks helped defend the rights of black people. I commented that Rosa was really cool and that she was an example of how we could all be cool, too. As quickly as the topic changed, she was off in search of her mother who was busy shopping.
When I think of Dar Williams' song Teenagers Kick Our Butts, I think of these kids and how they all will, very soon.
I spent much of my time with Mr. Man this weekend relaxing and staying low-key. I skipped out of work early on Friday for parent teacher conferences and then a long walk on the river trail with Mr. Man. He rode his bike and I walked as fast as possible in a failed attempt to keep up with him. The weather was beautiful and balmy - 70 degrees at the afternoon peak. While he did enjoy speeding off, I love that he stopped to collect a piece of bark and a huge maple leaf and attach them to his bike. He said hello to everyone he passed on the river trail, infecting even the grumpiest runner on the trail. It's a moment burned into my happiness memory bank.
Saturday night we enjoyed some quiet time reading the book Earth From Above, a beautiful collection of vivid photographs of people, animals and landscapes taken from a helicopter. The photographs are accompanied by descriptions of the region, the people or climates. Mr. Man was rightfully dismayed when, after viewing pictures of elephants, whales and a flock of scarlet ibis, he learned that humans were the biggest threat to these animals. (Artifical flowers, people! We kill the scarlet ibis to make artificial flowers!!!) After a few pages on the same theme of humans suck, Mr. Man turned to me and said, "We should give this book to all...hunt--...people who eat meat." He started to say hunters, but changed his mind mid-sentence to stipulate that carnivores should read the book. I don't know whether I'm tickled that he categorizes hunters and carnivores together or that he broadened his understanding of cruelty to include meat-eating.
Sunday I performed at the local health food store and enjoyed all the kids of varying ages who approached me and explored the harp. I invite kids to come up to touch the harp and pluck strings. I like explaining vibration, sound and resonance to the older ones. This day the younger ones were thrilled and excited to play and one exclaimed, "I'm making music!" to his parents. My favorite interaction was with a girl, maybe 8, who has a definite intuitive understanding of music. We discussed octaves and which strings were which musical notes and how my music was printed on a grand staff and how the range of her violin corresponded to the strings on a harp. In the middle of this great conversation, she abruptly states, "Did you know Rosa Parks died a few weeks ago?" I confirmed my knowledge and asked her what she knew about Rosa. She reported that Rosa Parks helped defend the rights of black people. I commented that Rosa was really cool and that she was an example of how we could all be cool, too. As quickly as the topic changed, she was off in search of her mother who was busy shopping.
When I think of Dar Williams' song Teenagers Kick Our Butts, I think of these kids and how they all will, very soon.
Monday, October 31, 2005
Growing and Eating
Mr. Man seems to waiver between a whining 4yo punk and an adult trapped in a kid's body. My wife noticed that he's become very reflective lately. She's right. Sunday morning we made banana flapjacks for breakfast and I asked him to choose a cleanup task - either help put away the clean dishes or help wash off the dirty ones to load back into the dishwasher. He complained about having to do any cleanup at all, but the lure of the spray nozzle to wash off the food debris ultimately won him over. He perched on a chair and washed the dishes off, only spraying me mildly in the process. When it was over he said, "I shouldn't have said that earlier...[the complaining], that was really fun."
During bathtime on Thursday we bumped into another growing up topic that I feel unprepared to manage with a straight face. I was sitting on the side of the tub not looking directly at him or perhaps taking all the toys out of the tub to prepare for washing when he says, "I can't reach my penis." I ask why he's trying to reach his penis and look down to find him doubled over. He says, "I'm trying to put my mouth on my penis." Again, I ask why? (I don't know why I asked...). He says, "I want to lick my penis." I promise I never laughed but it was hard, especially given that I immediately flashed back to a friend in college who swore he could self fellatiate. is that a word? Anyway, Mr. Man apparently wasn't that flexible and needs to take up yoga to accomplish such a feat. In the end he licked his finger, pulled back his foreskin, rubbed his little head and giggled. The joy of a little boy.
Meanwhile, we had out traditional Halloween feast, prepared our ancestor altar, carved pumpkins and enjoyed the company of friends. I loved having the day off to cook and spend the day with my wife. We had not enough friends for the amount of food I prepared! All of it was yummy. For starters we had hummus and crock cheese with crackers and breadsticks. The crock cheese was amazing! It's a really yummy vegan version of a cheese spread. We also had cranberry nut bread and corn muffins to go with homemade baked beans, polenta fries and an amazing chuckwagon stew with homemade seitan. For desert there were pumpkin pies which were largely untouched because everyone enjoyed the chocolate peanut butter cups!
When I was a kid, holidays were celebrated at my grandmother's house. She would spend the day in the kitchen making chicken pot pie, right down to the homemade noodles. Our holiday feasts were the backdrop for my Pop Pop's favorite dinnertime phrase, "I'm not talking; I'm eating." I remember the warmth of her kitchen and the savory smells of a homemade meal made with care. Even though it's not food I would eat or choose to make now, the memory of her cooking warms me. When I spread a meal for my family that I spent the day preparing in a warm kitchen with a lot of love, I smile and think of her.
During bathtime on Thursday we bumped into another growing up topic that I feel unprepared to manage with a straight face. I was sitting on the side of the tub not looking directly at him or perhaps taking all the toys out of the tub to prepare for washing when he says, "I can't reach my penis." I ask why he's trying to reach his penis and look down to find him doubled over. He says, "I'm trying to put my mouth on my penis." Again, I ask why? (I don't know why I asked...). He says, "I want to lick my penis." I promise I never laughed but it was hard, especially given that I immediately flashed back to a friend in college who swore he could self fellatiate. is that a word? Anyway, Mr. Man apparently wasn't that flexible and needs to take up yoga to accomplish such a feat. In the end he licked his finger, pulled back his foreskin, rubbed his little head and giggled. The joy of a little boy.
Meanwhile, we had out traditional Halloween feast, prepared our ancestor altar, carved pumpkins and enjoyed the company of friends. I loved having the day off to cook and spend the day with my wife. We had not enough friends for the amount of food I prepared! All of it was yummy. For starters we had hummus and crock cheese with crackers and breadsticks. The crock cheese was amazing! It's a really yummy vegan version of a cheese spread. We also had cranberry nut bread and corn muffins to go with homemade baked beans, polenta fries and an amazing chuckwagon stew with homemade seitan. For desert there were pumpkin pies which were largely untouched because everyone enjoyed the chocolate peanut butter cups!
When I was a kid, holidays were celebrated at my grandmother's house. She would spend the day in the kitchen making chicken pot pie, right down to the homemade noodles. Our holiday feasts were the backdrop for my Pop Pop's favorite dinnertime phrase, "I'm not talking; I'm eating." I remember the warmth of her kitchen and the savory smells of a homemade meal made with care. Even though it's not food I would eat or choose to make now, the memory of her cooking warms me. When I spread a meal for my family that I spent the day preparing in a warm kitchen with a lot of love, I smile and think of her.
Wednesday, October 26, 2005
Piss Free
Life in the House of Eris is always chaotic and I often get swept up in the tumult of our day, jobs and the endless to-do list and fail to see beyond the work to the good. My wife says I pee on things and take the joy out of living when I’m in this place. She makes me do exercises to name ten blessings to help me gain perspective. It’s been a few weeks since I lost all perspective and lately I’ve been enjoying the many blessings in my life. Perhaps I’ll come back to this post next time I begin peeing (figuratively).
The Boys
We wanted to add to our family. Our message was heard and answered – in the form of a kitten. The entrance of Pumpkin Ghost Smitty into our house restores gender parity in the House of Eris. Mr. Man is quite happy to have a playmate with as much energy as he has. He was also quick to resolve our indecision about the kitten’s name by proclaiming that he has three names and so should the cat. Pumpkin is black (not orange like pumpkins) with long hair and an adorable gaze. The girls of Eris weren’t sure if he would stay for a variety of reasons, allergies and the inability to have undisturbed, crazed sex high among them. Two weeks have passed and Mr. Man is adjusting to not being the center of our universe and we are practicing being caretakers for two species. The struggles continue, adjustments are made and we seem to be growing quite well.
Love
Mr. Man simply rocks my world. Countless times since I’ve last posted he had me either in hysterics or tears by the truth and beauty of his words. My favorites come from this past weekend:
Mr. Man: “Oh, your skin is dry”, pointing to my rough, cracked heels. “You should put some cream on there.”
Me: “Yeah, I know. I do, but it doesn’t help.”
Mr. Man: “Why not?”
Me: “Because I’m old and dried out.”
Mr. Man: (giggling) “You’re not dried out.” Pause. “But it’s true what you say, you are old.”
Later that same weekend while I was doing dishes and Mr. Man was playing, he marched up to ask me if all of the oceans are connected. Ah, the beauty of a child's curiosity.
More Love
My wife is beautiful and has passed an awesome milestone by now having lost 75 pounds. I’m proud of her accomplishment and she continues to inspire me. 13 years of bliss amplify how much I adore her. Mr. Man’s earlier bedtime has given my wife and I sweet time in the evenings to watch movies together and enjoy quietude. While we risk intrusion by the pouncing kitten, our evenings seem ours again.
Moving
We continue our forward movement to secure employment in Portland. The house is appraised and we’re ready to discuss a selling price. The house is more or less orderly (thanks to the cat) and we’ve pared down substantially. Many things are in place and more are in transition for us to relocate with less debt, fewer belongings and a city with more to offer.
The Boys
We wanted to add to our family. Our message was heard and answered – in the form of a kitten. The entrance of Pumpkin Ghost Smitty into our house restores gender parity in the House of Eris. Mr. Man is quite happy to have a playmate with as much energy as he has. He was also quick to resolve our indecision about the kitten’s name by proclaiming that he has three names and so should the cat. Pumpkin is black (not orange like pumpkins) with long hair and an adorable gaze. The girls of Eris weren’t sure if he would stay for a variety of reasons, allergies and the inability to have undisturbed, crazed sex high among them. Two weeks have passed and Mr. Man is adjusting to not being the center of our universe and we are practicing being caretakers for two species. The struggles continue, adjustments are made and we seem to be growing quite well.
Love
Mr. Man simply rocks my world. Countless times since I’ve last posted he had me either in hysterics or tears by the truth and beauty of his words. My favorites come from this past weekend:
Mr. Man: “Oh, your skin is dry”, pointing to my rough, cracked heels. “You should put some cream on there.”
Me: “Yeah, I know. I do, but it doesn’t help.”
Mr. Man: “Why not?”
Me: “Because I’m old and dried out.”
Mr. Man: (giggling) “You’re not dried out.” Pause. “But it’s true what you say, you are old.”
Later that same weekend while I was doing dishes and Mr. Man was playing, he marched up to ask me if all of the oceans are connected. Ah, the beauty of a child's curiosity.
More Love
My wife is beautiful and has passed an awesome milestone by now having lost 75 pounds. I’m proud of her accomplishment and she continues to inspire me. 13 years of bliss amplify how much I adore her. Mr. Man’s earlier bedtime has given my wife and I sweet time in the evenings to watch movies together and enjoy quietude. While we risk intrusion by the pouncing kitten, our evenings seem ours again.
Moving
We continue our forward movement to secure employment in Portland. The house is appraised and we’re ready to discuss a selling price. The house is more or less orderly (thanks to the cat) and we’ve pared down substantially. Many things are in place and more are in transition for us to relocate with less debt, fewer belongings and a city with more to offer.
Friday, October 07, 2005
Birthdays
We took Mr. Man to a friend's birthday party last night. It seemed odd to us, but of 9 ~5yo guests, only 2 parents opted to stay at the party - the rest dropped their son off and left. Thank goodness we stayed because the moms of the birthday boy had 10 boys at the party. They had organized a hunt for secret treasure around their extensive wooded backyard. It was quite fun, but you can imagine the excitement and activity with ten boys running around!
The moms also have a 6mo infant, who my wife and I got to care for while moms were busy with 10 boys and birthday party duties. I had the opportunity to give her a bottle of mama's freshly pumped milk. I was blown away by the memories of nursing an infant. I immediately tuned into the comforting suck-breathe rhthym as I nestled her in the crook of my arm. Her little hand wrapped around my finger and she stared up into my eyes - all things Mr. Man used to do. As she drank the milk, her eyes got heavy and she gently drifted off to sleep with that contented expression of someone fully satisfied. It was a great moment.
A beautiful moment difficult to reconcile in my mid-fertility crisis. I remember the double-edged sword of nursing - beautiful, peaceful moments intermingled with resentment over having no personal space. Mr. Man nursed until he was almost 4! Up until six months ago I could still express droplets of milk. My body is relieved to be free of nursing, yet last night holding that baby I was ready to do it all again.
The moms also have a 6mo infant, who my wife and I got to care for while moms were busy with 10 boys and birthday party duties. I had the opportunity to give her a bottle of mama's freshly pumped milk. I was blown away by the memories of nursing an infant. I immediately tuned into the comforting suck-breathe rhthym as I nestled her in the crook of my arm. Her little hand wrapped around my finger and she stared up into my eyes - all things Mr. Man used to do. As she drank the milk, her eyes got heavy and she gently drifted off to sleep with that contented expression of someone fully satisfied. It was a great moment.
A beautiful moment difficult to reconcile in my mid-fertility crisis. I remember the double-edged sword of nursing - beautiful, peaceful moments intermingled with resentment over having no personal space. Mr. Man nursed until he was almost 4! Up until six months ago I could still express droplets of milk. My body is relieved to be free of nursing, yet last night holding that baby I was ready to do it all again.
Wednesday, October 05, 2005
Memo
To: My Co-workers and Building Occupants
From: A disgruntled employee
Date: October 5, 2005
Re: Being Human
Our ability to work together, occupy the same office and same building requires that we all behave like reasonable human beings. Please consider these examples of behavior to avoid:
We have only one bathroom for women on our floor that must serve many employees – including the entire state employee cubicleville. You entered the women’s bathroom to hold a cell phone conversation and paced the bathroom while you conversed, making those of us who actually need to use the facilities wait in the hall until you were finished.
When you did enter the bathroom for its practical purpose, you used one of the sanitary seat covers (a good idea), but you left it for the next person to clean up. For reference, the sanitary nature of the cover requires single use.
Perhaps you did not use the cover, which was apparent when those of us after you went to sit down. Your dribble, splash or really big mess is also a private matter, not to be shared with your co-workers.
When you returned from your bathroom break, you resumed your work. As you worked, you sighed about your assignment and provided a blow-by-blow description of how hard your work was and how most things in your life were both very important and very difficult. When you took a breath, you provided obvious mundane updates about the weather or the change in season. When you ran out of things to say, you began singing along (not humming) to country music tunes on the radio.
Then you put your nose to the grindstone and thought about upcoming events. You created a special task to complicate matters and make a variety of individuals do redundant, repetitive and unnecessary work that will have little return for those we serve or our organization.
Thank you for your consideration and effort to make our days together an enjoyable professional experience.
From: A disgruntled employee
Date: October 5, 2005
Re: Being Human
Our ability to work together, occupy the same office and same building requires that we all behave like reasonable human beings. Please consider these examples of behavior to avoid:
We have only one bathroom for women on our floor that must serve many employees – including the entire state employee cubicleville. You entered the women’s bathroom to hold a cell phone conversation and paced the bathroom while you conversed, making those of us who actually need to use the facilities wait in the hall until you were finished.
When you did enter the bathroom for its practical purpose, you used one of the sanitary seat covers (a good idea), but you left it for the next person to clean up. For reference, the sanitary nature of the cover requires single use.
Perhaps you did not use the cover, which was apparent when those of us after you went to sit down. Your dribble, splash or really big mess is also a private matter, not to be shared with your co-workers.
When you returned from your bathroom break, you resumed your work. As you worked, you sighed about your assignment and provided a blow-by-blow description of how hard your work was and how most things in your life were both very important and very difficult. When you took a breath, you provided obvious mundane updates about the weather or the change in season. When you ran out of things to say, you began singing along (not humming) to country music tunes on the radio.
Then you put your nose to the grindstone and thought about upcoming events. You created a special task to complicate matters and make a variety of individuals do redundant, repetitive and unnecessary work that will have little return for those we serve or our organization.
Thank you for your consideration and effort to make our days together an enjoyable professional experience.
Tuesday, October 04, 2005
Mid-Fertility Crisis
As if I needed one more thing to freak out about, but here it is. I became fertile at age 12. Presumably I'll hit menopause around 50. So here I am at 32 in the middle of my fertile period hyperventilating over how my chaotic life and our impending cross-country trek to new jobs does or does not allow room for Mr. Man to have a sibling.
Things that Weigh Heavily:
What I know:
Things that Weigh Heavily:
- Time: I still have a year of school left sucking up what little energy I have. At best, we could begin "the great adventure" in 2007.
- Age: Mr. Man would be 6 and my wife and I would be 34/35.
- Chaos: Life with the three of us is loud, crazy and we want to add a screaming wee one to that mix?
- Money: Yikes - tuition and child care for 2?
- Donor: As in doesn't return calls, unless you consider the 4am call from his new wife announcing the existence of their son an attempt to return my calls...
- Mental Health: If you knew me when I was pregnant until he turned 1, you wouldn't ask.
What I know:
- This doesn't really matter now, even if it does haunt me. My wife says Mr. Man came without planning and number two will come to us if he or she is meant to be.
- I love my son and my wife. They are happiness.
Wednesday, September 28, 2005
Rejection and Motivation
Got my first rejection letter this week for a job with an organization that really excited me. Rejection for the job itself wasn't so bad, but the fact that it means I can't go to Portland ASAP is the bigger bummer. The job search moves slowly and my motivation to leave my current job, this town and the people in it increases every minute. A friend recently suggested that I shouldn't set my sights on being out of here by a certain time. Damn her, she's right.
But I want out. It gets harder to go to work every day. This month began to unravel my patience with people, relationships and patterns at work. Every day is a reminder that I need a new job and need one now. And I want away. The house and the effort to keep it clean, organized and in one piece wears me down. I dream of an apartment on the Max line near a park. Largely the things rooting me to this community are the local farmer's market, the nature centers and some cultural events (kite flying, concerts). We enjoy places and activities, but alone as a family of three. We're missing the people inherent in a community.
So I have to step up the job search. Fall is in the air and my bones feel the cool settling in. Each morning I awake with a taste in my mouth that screams Portland. I spend the rest of the day trying to swish it away - but it just isn't going anywhere.
But I want out. It gets harder to go to work every day. This month began to unravel my patience with people, relationships and patterns at work. Every day is a reminder that I need a new job and need one now. And I want away. The house and the effort to keep it clean, organized and in one piece wears me down. I dream of an apartment on the Max line near a park. Largely the things rooting me to this community are the local farmer's market, the nature centers and some cultural events (kite flying, concerts). We enjoy places and activities, but alone as a family of three. We're missing the people inherent in a community.
So I have to step up the job search. Fall is in the air and my bones feel the cool settling in. Each morning I awake with a taste in my mouth that screams Portland. I spend the rest of the day trying to swish it away - but it just isn't going anywhere.
Sunday, September 11, 2005
Numbers
- 6 - the number of people at dinner on Tuesday, when our family drove 80 minutes one-way to see my in-laws and eat dinner at a steak house in the sticks. Nice choice, in-laws, for celebrating the birthday of a vegan.
- 5 - the number of job applications I've made in the last ten days. That ratio isn't as low as I thought it was.
- 4 - the number of kids at the birthday party Mr. Man went to today where I interacted with cool parents in a relaxed way and met an interesting family who lives one block away from us.
- 3 - the number of credits I should drop to maintain my sanity this semester.
- 2 - the number of people I confronted this week about tough stuff.
- 1 - the number of children my wife and I discussed adding to our family.
- 0 - the number of databases I have to launch. Tomorrow we begin using the new database. Woo hoo for that project being done!
Thursday, September 01, 2005
Hard to Feel Good
Day started off great, in part because I had a fun night out with a friend last night and got a brief respite from work and a good night's rest. But largely I think the first third of my day was great largely because I'm oblivious to the world. My wife teases me about how much of mainstream and pop culture I've missed throughout my life. Tonight I learned from a student in my marketing class that apparently jeans at Abercrombie cost $80. I had no clue. I've never had the need or urge to go in the store. Frankly, I've never bought a pair of pants for $80 in my life. It seems absurd unless they are organic hemp sewn by a women-owned, fair-trade collective.
I was still in a great mood in the afternoon, when I had therapy, which was sad and wonderful. I'm in the leaving and saying goodbye stage - the sad part. The wonderful part is how kind and helpful my therapist has been. Her words of encouragement and insight have sustained and uplifted me over the last four years. Today her description of me and my ability to face the world on my own made me want to cry. So I left feeling all warm and fuzzy and good.
But then at the end of the day I turned on NPR and got caught up on the Katrina disaster or rather the emergency response, political and social disaster. At dinner tonight my family talked about how we could help people without food or water or a place to sleep. We offered our meager house because we have little money to send for disaster relief - and anyway, what agency can you trust, really? Which one of them isn't going to take out poor black folks with semi-automatic weapons?
I tried doing some homework tonight and I did accomplish a bit, but the photos and stories and horrors of New Orleans and neighboring areas just kept pulling me back. I've been sitting in front of this screen for an hour feeling pissed, paralyzed and sad. Hard to feel good now.
I was still in a great mood in the afternoon, when I had therapy, which was sad and wonderful. I'm in the leaving and saying goodbye stage - the sad part. The wonderful part is how kind and helpful my therapist has been. Her words of encouragement and insight have sustained and uplifted me over the last four years. Today her description of me and my ability to face the world on my own made me want to cry. So I left feeling all warm and fuzzy and good.
But then at the end of the day I turned on NPR and got caught up on the Katrina disaster or rather the emergency response, political and social disaster. At dinner tonight my family talked about how we could help people without food or water or a place to sleep. We offered our meager house because we have little money to send for disaster relief - and anyway, what agency can you trust, really? Which one of them isn't going to take out poor black folks with semi-automatic weapons?
I tried doing some homework tonight and I did accomplish a bit, but the photos and stories and horrors of New Orleans and neighboring areas just kept pulling me back. I've been sitting in front of this screen for an hour feeling pissed, paralyzed and sad. Hard to feel good now.
Tuesday, August 30, 2005
Ticking Clock and The Poverty of Time
We got a funky new alarm clock that shines the digital time on the ceiling. It comes complete with soothing white noise sounds (wind chimes, babbling brook, sea) that are supposed to wake you up. I guess that works for people who sleep more than 5 hours a night, but I slept right through it this morning. So I started my day panicked about time and immediately went into the doom and gloom zone thinking about next week, when our family is supposed to leave by 8am to drop me at work so that my wife can take Mr. Man to school by 9am. For reference, Mr. Man and my wife have an average waking time of 8:30am this summer.
In another time zone, the ringing of my biological clock is making up for the failure of the new alarm clock. I'm ovulating and from deep in the core of me I feel a voice resonating in me to create life. The urge to suddenly begin humping something like an inappropriate dog is overwhelming. Being the fertile turtle that I am, I know best to stick to the double-X goodness of my wife. But the calling of the Y is intense.
But he will wait, much like my wife, since I suffer from a deficiency apparently coined poverty of time. My marketing textbook defines it as "a lack of time to do anything but work, commute to work, handle family situations, do housework, sleep and eat." How poor are you if sleep and housework don't happen very much, not to mention sex? The biological clock must be out to bankrupt me.
In another time zone, the ringing of my biological clock is making up for the failure of the new alarm clock. I'm ovulating and from deep in the core of me I feel a voice resonating in me to create life. The urge to suddenly begin humping something like an inappropriate dog is overwhelming. Being the fertile turtle that I am, I know best to stick to the double-X goodness of my wife. But the calling of the Y is intense.
But he will wait, much like my wife, since I suffer from a deficiency apparently coined poverty of time. My marketing textbook defines it as "a lack of time to do anything but work, commute to work, handle family situations, do housework, sleep and eat." How poor are you if sleep and housework don't happen very much, not to mention sex? The biological clock must be out to bankrupt me.
Sunday, August 28, 2005
Sleepover Update and the Mystery
The 4yo sleepover was okay except for the behavior of largely my own 4yo, who kicked the visiting friend at bed time and had an emotional shoot-out in the morning after breakfast. It's easy to watch Mr. Man get overstimulated by his own emotions and freak out when he doesn't have a largely private, quiet area to unwind. I have a hard time being concerned that Mr. Man isolates too much, because I enjoy isolation and quiet time, too. Nonetheless, the return to preschool next week after a summer of quiet days alone with my wife should be an interesting transition...
Visiting child goes home and Mr. Man and I spend some time together in the garden, retreat from the sun for lunch and enjoy quiet time doing independent stuff (he playing and me making pickles). We're in adjoining rooms and he has built a crazy triple-decker cart/fire engine that is being pulled by cricket (another wooden pull toy). Mr. Man is playing quietly and we haven't said much to each other in a few minutes until he asks me to check out the crazy triple-decker moving stack. I do and go on with my pickle-making, when out of the blue, Mr. Man says,
"If you told me you like life, I would be happy."
I made him repeat it to be sure I heard him clearly.
I read little, if anything, for personal pleasure and have surely read a mere drop in the bucket of the pagan canon, but it sure seems to me like someone should share great insights about the Mystery of parenting, children and families. Things happen (statements, emotions, interactions, activities) and they're part of a bigger picture that gets lost in the minutiae of daily work. I think parents get bogged down by the practical worries of raising a healthy, well-developed child. Trusting the Mystery, allows parenting to be more intuitive, creative and fun. It's time for less studying child development and behavioral literature and more big picture reflection and listening to the hum of our family life.
Visiting child goes home and Mr. Man and I spend some time together in the garden, retreat from the sun for lunch and enjoy quiet time doing independent stuff (he playing and me making pickles). We're in adjoining rooms and he has built a crazy triple-decker cart/fire engine that is being pulled by cricket (another wooden pull toy). Mr. Man is playing quietly and we haven't said much to each other in a few minutes until he asks me to check out the crazy triple-decker moving stack. I do and go on with my pickle-making, when out of the blue, Mr. Man says,
"If you told me you like life, I would be happy."
I made him repeat it to be sure I heard him clearly.
I read little, if anything, for personal pleasure and have surely read a mere drop in the bucket of the pagan canon, but it sure seems to me like someone should share great insights about the Mystery of parenting, children and families. Things happen (statements, emotions, interactions, activities) and they're part of a bigger picture that gets lost in the minutiae of daily work. I think parents get bogged down by the practical worries of raising a healthy, well-developed child. Trusting the Mystery, allows parenting to be more intuitive, creative and fun. It's time for less studying child development and behavioral literature and more big picture reflection and listening to the hum of our family life.
Saturday, August 27, 2005
Been Down This Road Before
Today, working on my database rebuild for work (on a tight September 1 deadline) I created a script that crashed the database. Damn loops. Work well when programmed properly, but respond quite poorly when left looping for eternity. This is not the end of the world, since I have a backup copy, but it's from earlier this morning. I find myself after lunch having to redo everything I did in the morning. Good thing I get paid by the hour for this work. Aside from the minor annoyance of having to do my morning work again, this really just touches a big nerve.
I'm recreating the entire database for an employer I'm on the verge of leaving. The work I'm recreating, refining and improving represents the past seven years of my professional career. These technical skills I worked hard to refine and the fruit of my labor services many large programs and internal processes. Here I am refabbing a classic car, but will not likely take her for a run (or a very long one).
Redoing work is a major theme in my life right now. I've been working on losing the same ten pounds for the last year. I joke with my wife (who is a great success and has lost 70 pounds) that I lost 35 pounds on the first year of the Weight Watchers program and then I gained 10 the second year. I wake up every day thinking I'm really going to stick with it and most days I start off on the right foot.
At some point on most days I reach the point where I really need to escape. I realized this last week that I'm eating as a poor substitute to escaping through substances. What I really want to do is get plastered, which hasn't happened since Mr. Man was conceived (unless you count the night my ex-lover came to town last spring - which was really unpleasant, so let's not count that). In my fantasy, I am hammered or high and very happy. My wife was in this place while she was in school the last semester or two and I couldn't relate. Now I do (and regret I wasn't more supportive of her). So instead of becoming a lush I get to struggle with losing the same ten pounds (not to mention the other 30 I still want to lose after that). I suppose it's easier to do that than battle alcoholism, but it doesn't seem as satisfying somehow.
Also, I'm in school for the third time. This attempt is the most promising (four years of therapy helps), but nonetheless I'm tired of being a student. I feel totally overeducated and I don't even have a bachelors.
So as I'm reflecting today about the things in my life that keep repeating, I open my email to get a message from a colleague who sends the birth announcement of his family's seventh child. Many days I've dreamed about having another child. As I get older and our lives seem more uncertain rather than less, my intuition tells me it's not likely to happen. Aside from the whole donor issues, there's my family and my emotional health and my age. It's sad that this road is not likely one we'll travel down again. On the other hand, it's probably for the best given how tired I've been with one child.
I'll get the reality check in a moment when I leave to embark on a sleepover for another 4yo. A night with two 4yo boys might just change my mind.
I'm recreating the entire database for an employer I'm on the verge of leaving. The work I'm recreating, refining and improving represents the past seven years of my professional career. These technical skills I worked hard to refine and the fruit of my labor services many large programs and internal processes. Here I am refabbing a classic car, but will not likely take her for a run (or a very long one).
Redoing work is a major theme in my life right now. I've been working on losing the same ten pounds for the last year. I joke with my wife (who is a great success and has lost 70 pounds) that I lost 35 pounds on the first year of the Weight Watchers program and then I gained 10 the second year. I wake up every day thinking I'm really going to stick with it and most days I start off on the right foot.
At some point on most days I reach the point where I really need to escape. I realized this last week that I'm eating as a poor substitute to escaping through substances. What I really want to do is get plastered, which hasn't happened since Mr. Man was conceived (unless you count the night my ex-lover came to town last spring - which was really unpleasant, so let's not count that). In my fantasy, I am hammered or high and very happy. My wife was in this place while she was in school the last semester or two and I couldn't relate. Now I do (and regret I wasn't more supportive of her). So instead of becoming a lush I get to struggle with losing the same ten pounds (not to mention the other 30 I still want to lose after that). I suppose it's easier to do that than battle alcoholism, but it doesn't seem as satisfying somehow.
Also, I'm in school for the third time. This attempt is the most promising (four years of therapy helps), but nonetheless I'm tired of being a student. I feel totally overeducated and I don't even have a bachelors.
So as I'm reflecting today about the things in my life that keep repeating, I open my email to get a message from a colleague who sends the birth announcement of his family's seventh child. Many days I've dreamed about having another child. As I get older and our lives seem more uncertain rather than less, my intuition tells me it's not likely to happen. Aside from the whole donor issues, there's my family and my emotional health and my age. It's sad that this road is not likely one we'll travel down again. On the other hand, it's probably for the best given how tired I've been with one child.
I'll get the reality check in a moment when I leave to embark on a sleepover for another 4yo. A night with two 4yo boys might just change my mind.
Wednesday, August 24, 2005
First Movie
Tonight we took Mr. Man to his first movie in the theater. We saw March of the Penguins, which is quite beautiful. As a pagan family, it was a good fit. He was excited to be in the dark theater, enjoyed the auditorium seating and chose the very top row of seats. The closest we got to scary content was the Harry Potter preview.
During the movie, he whispered constantly about what was happening and provided a blow-by-blow explanation and description of what he was seeing. He listened very carefully and understood most of the movie. It was a very enjoyable "first", made perfect by this encounter:
In the movie the parent penguins go back to the sea and leave their chicks behind forever. The narrator mentions that the chicks will never see their parents again. Mr. Man hears this, looks over to me from where he's cuddling with my wife and says in a faltering voice, "They never see their Mamas again?" His eyes have welled up with tears and he looks very frightened. He's earnestly trying not to cry. My wife and I cuddle him and try to explain that the penguins are getting older and will go off to explore the world on their own now that they're bigger.
It warms my heart that he is frightened by the idea of young being separated from parents. I want to bottle his attachment for when he's 13 and cursing our names.
During the movie, he whispered constantly about what was happening and provided a blow-by-blow explanation and description of what he was seeing. He listened very carefully and understood most of the movie. It was a very enjoyable "first", made perfect by this encounter:
In the movie the parent penguins go back to the sea and leave their chicks behind forever. The narrator mentions that the chicks will never see their parents again. Mr. Man hears this, looks over to me from where he's cuddling with my wife and says in a faltering voice, "They never see their Mamas again?" His eyes have welled up with tears and he looks very frightened. He's earnestly trying not to cry. My wife and I cuddle him and try to explain that the penguins are getting older and will go off to explore the world on their own now that they're bigger.
It warms my heart that he is frightened by the idea of young being separated from parents. I want to bottle his attachment for when he's 13 and cursing our names.
Public Transit Morning
The incessant 2am bedtimes caught up with me and I woke up with a Screw It attitude. I slept in until 9am, despite needing to be to work at 8:30. My attempt to hitch a ride to work from my housemate failed. Family was still sound asleep in bed at 10am when I was ready to go to work and my wife needed the car for an afternoon appointment, so I hopped on the bus.
I remember bussing to work before I had a car and hating it. I would sit on the bus and stare down into the cars, dreaming about buying my first vehicle. Once we got the truck, life became more hectic. We could get more places, faster and I became queen of how to shove more into the day.
Today I enjoyed the one-hour commute that ordinarily takes me ten minutes to drive. It was nice solitary time with good music. Instead of dreaming of cars, I flirted with fantasies of commuting in Portland. I want more public transit in my life. It takes longer to get places, which means fewer stops and less activity. I need to head in the direction of less to do.
My resume is in draft one. Wonder where I'll end up commuting to.
I remember bussing to work before I had a car and hating it. I would sit on the bus and stare down into the cars, dreaming about buying my first vehicle. Once we got the truck, life became more hectic. We could get more places, faster and I became queen of how to shove more into the day.
Today I enjoyed the one-hour commute that ordinarily takes me ten minutes to drive. It was nice solitary time with good music. Instead of dreaming of cars, I flirted with fantasies of commuting in Portland. I want more public transit in my life. It takes longer to get places, which means fewer stops and less activity. I need to head in the direction of less to do.
My resume is in draft one. Wonder where I'll end up commuting to.
Monday, August 22, 2005
Alone, Working
I'm trying not to feel sorry for myself as I sit here working alone. After all, it's me who agreed to rebuild this database and I'm the one who enrolled in school while working full time. Some nights the work is satisfying and okay. Other nights, like tonight, I realize how much it eats away at me. Not just my physical and emotional health, but my fun factor.
Back in the day I could party with the best of them, even when I was in school and working full-time (although before motherhood). Now I'm hard pressed to find a friend to talk to outside of my marriage or therapist, let alone someone who might call me up and offer me a drink at a place with grownups and alcohol.
So I find myself wondering where is the fun? And if I suddenly stumbled across a life with social possibilities, would I be able to have fun after what feels like an eternity of day-in, day-out work? Hell, I'm all for the Protestant work ethic (deeply ingrained, I'm afraid), but I think I've gone overboard - and I'm not even trying to get into Heaven.
My wife says I'm shy and quiet and that's why I don't make friends or have a more active social life. What if I've lost the capability of interacting with other adults? What if work has worn away any interesting edges I once had that would compel another adult to talk to me? And if he or she did start a conversation, would I have the energy to respond?
Will I come out of this degree, this job search, this current project with the capacity to enjoy?
Back in the day I could party with the best of them, even when I was in school and working full-time (although before motherhood). Now I'm hard pressed to find a friend to talk to outside of my marriage or therapist, let alone someone who might call me up and offer me a drink at a place with grownups and alcohol.
So I find myself wondering where is the fun? And if I suddenly stumbled across a life with social possibilities, would I be able to have fun after what feels like an eternity of day-in, day-out work? Hell, I'm all for the Protestant work ethic (deeply ingrained, I'm afraid), but I think I've gone overboard - and I'm not even trying to get into Heaven.
My wife says I'm shy and quiet and that's why I don't make friends or have a more active social life. What if I've lost the capability of interacting with other adults? What if work has worn away any interesting edges I once had that would compel another adult to talk to me? And if he or she did start a conversation, would I have the energy to respond?
Will I come out of this degree, this job search, this current project with the capacity to enjoy?
Saturday, August 20, 2005
Good Morning
The beginning of a four-day weekend to celebrate my wife's birthday. Mr. Man and I got up and made a vegan feast. Banana Chocolate Chip pancakes for him. Potato hash and Tofu Scramble for my wife. All accompanied by a side of Could-Pass-For-Tollhouse Vegan Chocolate Chip Cookies and coffee. My wife got to sleep in and I got to cook good food.
I woke up and began the day without bathing, as all vacations should start. I was wearing a white muscle shirt and my funk was up. It reminded me of pre-motherhood days when my wife, my lover and I would wake up after an evening of indulgence to make breakfast. In fact, I smelled slightly like my vegan lover used to in the morning...
So much for the walk down pre-motherhood memory lane. Now I'm with Mr. Man watching a PoohBah video. This really requires the pre-motherhood substances from our evening indulgences.
Ah, well. The belly is full.
I woke up and began the day without bathing, as all vacations should start. I was wearing a white muscle shirt and my funk was up. It reminded me of pre-motherhood days when my wife, my lover and I would wake up after an evening of indulgence to make breakfast. In fact, I smelled slightly like my vegan lover used to in the morning...
So much for the walk down pre-motherhood memory lane. Now I'm with Mr. Man watching a PoohBah video. This really requires the pre-motherhood substances from our evening indulgences.
Ah, well. The belly is full.
Friday, August 19, 2005
Too Nice?
This will likely be my last reflective post about Festival.
Festival is supposedly a feminist utopia. I know from our 13 years of attending that it is not. What scares me most sometimes is the view Festival womyn hold about motherhood. I've been a mother for 5 of the 13 years I've attended Festival. During those five years, I've met mothers who frighten me, amaze me and humor me. I don't feel like I've ever found a mother that I could really connect with - someone who I felt shared similar values about parenting. (This is no different than the outside world.)
[However it was nice to dialogue with another mother who felt similarly about Brother Sun. Interestingly her solution to the Brother Sun dilemma was to have one mom camp out in Brother Sun with their son, spend all day with him, monitor very closely every planned activity and hold him back from the inappropriate ones (bullet tree and the pirate movie were mentioned). The other mom, meanwhile, camped in the land with their Sprout-aged son. Wow!]
So the very interesting interaction that fuels this post is this:
My wife has the head-splitting migraine Saturday night and is back at the tent resting. I'm walking Mr. Man around in the stroller for hour two, hoping he'll fall asleep soon. He tells me he wants to go up the path with the hill and the glow sticks that Sonya showed him. I follow his directions and we begin the ascent. No kidding. I had no clue that there was a hill this steep on the Land! It just keeps going up and up and I'm huffing and puffing, pushing Mr. Man up in the heavy purple jog stroller! I'm almost to the top when we encounter a big tree down across the path. I pause (to catch my breath). Nearby there are womyn coming out of their tent. One overhears Mr. Man saying I shouldn't stop and should keep on going up and over the tree. She chuckles and I look back saying, "Well, of course, let me continue on so you are completely happy." (tongue-in-cheek).
She looks at me and inquires, "You're not that child's mother, are you?"
I say, yes, why?
She says, "You're being too nice to him to be his mom."
I'm dumbfounded. I missed the lesson on obligatory cruelty to your child. I think this is a weird comment and I'm surprised that I encountered it on the Land instead of in the World. (Again with the expectation of utopia) I'm happy to be seen interacting with my son in a positive way. (We were having fun.) I'm also terribly sad that this is how low the expectation of mother-child relationships has sunk.
Can a mother be to nice to her child?
Festival is supposedly a feminist utopia. I know from our 13 years of attending that it is not. What scares me most sometimes is the view Festival womyn hold about motherhood. I've been a mother for 5 of the 13 years I've attended Festival. During those five years, I've met mothers who frighten me, amaze me and humor me. I don't feel like I've ever found a mother that I could really connect with - someone who I felt shared similar values about parenting. (This is no different than the outside world.)
[However it was nice to dialogue with another mother who felt similarly about Brother Sun. Interestingly her solution to the Brother Sun dilemma was to have one mom camp out in Brother Sun with their son, spend all day with him, monitor very closely every planned activity and hold him back from the inappropriate ones (bullet tree and the pirate movie were mentioned). The other mom, meanwhile, camped in the land with their Sprout-aged son. Wow!]
So the very interesting interaction that fuels this post is this:
My wife has the head-splitting migraine Saturday night and is back at the tent resting. I'm walking Mr. Man around in the stroller for hour two, hoping he'll fall asleep soon. He tells me he wants to go up the path with the hill and the glow sticks that Sonya showed him. I follow his directions and we begin the ascent. No kidding. I had no clue that there was a hill this steep on the Land! It just keeps going up and up and I'm huffing and puffing, pushing Mr. Man up in the heavy purple jog stroller! I'm almost to the top when we encounter a big tree down across the path. I pause (to catch my breath). Nearby there are womyn coming out of their tent. One overhears Mr. Man saying I shouldn't stop and should keep on going up and over the tree. She chuckles and I look back saying, "Well, of course, let me continue on so you are completely happy." (tongue-in-cheek).
She looks at me and inquires, "You're not that child's mother, are you?"
I say, yes, why?
She says, "You're being too nice to him to be his mom."
I'm dumbfounded. I missed the lesson on obligatory cruelty to your child. I think this is a weird comment and I'm surprised that I encountered it on the Land instead of in the World. (Again with the expectation of utopia) I'm happy to be seen interacting with my son in a positive way. (We were having fun.) I'm also terribly sad that this is how low the expectation of mother-child relationships has sunk.
Can a mother be to nice to her child?
Monday, August 15, 2005
Festival Overview
It was quite a different experience arriving on Friday and not sitting in line. We drove right up to the gate at noon on Friday and unloaded. Our parking space was right at the front gate next to the orientation tent, which was a treat. On Monday it was great not to have to unload the gear, hike out to find the car in the huge field and bring it back to load up. We just walked our little bit of gear right over to the car!
Setting up was a breeze, thanks to the help of CampGirl who not only shuttled in with us, but also scouted a site and helped us erect the canvas mansion. We actually got a great site right near Sprouts that wasn't on a 45 degree incline. And wonderfully racoon free. Although there were quite a few stinky mushrooms nearby with an unpleasant fish aroma.
Mushrooms actually featured prominently in our family's Festival experience. Since Mr. Man was not enrolled in Sprouts child care this year, we substituted nature walks for child care. It worked well, despite being tiring. It was quiet time where my wife and I got some limited conversation and Mr. Man could unwind and get away from the overstimulating mass of womyn and activity. (My personal best for the weekend was four hours of non-stop walking on Sunday from 6pm until 10pm when he finally fell asleep.) On our ventures through every path on the land (barring the one through the Twilight Zone) and many new paths we'd never explored before, we noticed many mushrooms. It was our nature walk activity to point out the different colors and shapes. Mr. Man enjoyed taking a picture of the purple mushroom we saw.
Mr. Man had his own camera which he used in one day. His shots largely consisted of the tractor, his food items and some womyn he didn't know (but whom he asked if he could photograph). He also took some photos with our camera, which turned out to be some of the best on the roll. Here's his view of the showers:
One very surprising aspect of Festival was how little vegan food was available. The rice cakes were the only vegan peanut butter carrier food available. Amazingly the bread, pita bread and tortilla chips all contained animal products. (Who puts non-fat milk solids in wheat bread???) By Sunday the kitchen was out of rice cakes and peanut butter and vegan salad dressing, so pickins' were slim.
We ended our Festival by taking photos of our favorite places. We went to the night stage and took a picture of the tree by the sound booth where we tend to sit. We ended our tour at the Meditatation Circle where we each made an offering at the altar. We had a conversation about the four sacred elements and at the end Mr. Man said "The Goddess is in people, too."
Blessed Be, Mr. Man. Happy Last Festival.
Setting up was a breeze, thanks to the help of CampGirl who not only shuttled in with us, but also scouted a site and helped us erect the canvas mansion. We actually got a great site right near Sprouts that wasn't on a 45 degree incline. And wonderfully racoon free. Although there were quite a few stinky mushrooms nearby with an unpleasant fish aroma.
Mushrooms actually featured prominently in our family's Festival experience. Since Mr. Man was not enrolled in Sprouts child care this year, we substituted nature walks for child care. It worked well, despite being tiring. It was quiet time where my wife and I got some limited conversation and Mr. Man could unwind and get away from the overstimulating mass of womyn and activity. (My personal best for the weekend was four hours of non-stop walking on Sunday from 6pm until 10pm when he finally fell asleep.) On our ventures through every path on the land (barring the one through the Twilight Zone) and many new paths we'd never explored before, we noticed many mushrooms. It was our nature walk activity to point out the different colors and shapes. Mr. Man enjoyed taking a picture of the purple mushroom we saw.
Mr. Man had his own camera which he used in one day. His shots largely consisted of the tractor, his food items and some womyn he didn't know (but whom he asked if he could photograph). He also took some photos with our camera, which turned out to be some of the best on the roll. Here's his view of the showers:
One very surprising aspect of Festival was how little vegan food was available. The rice cakes were the only vegan peanut butter carrier food available. Amazingly the bread, pita bread and tortilla chips all contained animal products. (Who puts non-fat milk solids in wheat bread???) By Sunday the kitchen was out of rice cakes and peanut butter and vegan salad dressing, so pickins' were slim.
We ended our Festival by taking photos of our favorite places. We went to the night stage and took a picture of the tree by the sound booth where we tend to sit. We ended our tour at the Meditatation Circle where we each made an offering at the altar. We had a conversation about the four sacred elements and at the end Mr. Man said "The Goddess is in people, too."
Blessed Be, Mr. Man. Happy Last Festival.
The Benefactress
The remainder of this series now takes on a new tone. Instead of posting Packing and Home Sweet Some and other reminiscences about our last 12 years at Festival, I'll be sharing news from this year's short trip, because we made it to the Land!
On Wednesday, August 3rd, Sonya emailed us to inquire if we would accept her offer to essentially cover half of our cost of a weekend ticket. We had begun our grieving process a week or so earlier and frankly, I wasn't sure we were going to make it through in one piece. Sonya's offer was kind, thoughtful, selfless and amazingly generous. It took us quite a while to absorb what she was offering and once we began trusting that it was reality and not a dream, we immediately accepted.
A flurry of activity ensued over the next 24-hours to adjust work and school schedules. We had a fun conversation with Mr. Man, who upon learning that we were going to Festival, mentioned a few things we would do on the Land, but then said "And we can say goodbye to Sprouts."
Largely, we embraced this opportunity to provide closure and to say goodbye. Goodbye to Sprouts now that Mr. Man is 4. Goodbye to Festival with Mr. Man on the Land with us. Goodbye to Festival because we choose not to come back with a 5yo boy and aren't in a position to go without him. Goodbye to Festival because we will be out of state next year.
I'll share my Festival highlights in a future post, but here my intent is to say that Sonya is an amazingly thoughtful friend who sacrificed her time and money to make sure we had this opportunity to say goodbye. When we were on the land, no less than three times Mr. Man said to women he did not know, "We weren't going to come, but then a friend helped us."
Not only did Sonya help us cover the ticket, but she kept checking in on us, asking how she could help. When I was so exhausted and emotionally frayed from the intense work and lack of sleep from the preceding week, she asked if there was anything she could do and I was so frazzled I didn't know what to say or what to ask for. My wife helped me problem-solve and we asked Sonya to take Mr. Man for a tractor ride so we could see an act at the Acoustic Stage. Not only did she take him on the tractor ride, but she helped him write a message to us that he left at the message board and she helped him explore a new area of the Land.
I am so grateful for Sonya's kindness and so relieved by her support that I just want to cry. Festival for us was beautiful in many ways, even with its bittersweet undertones. If not for Sonya's friendship, our family would have missed this chapter's end.
Thank you.
On Wednesday, August 3rd, Sonya emailed us to inquire if we would accept her offer to essentially cover half of our cost of a weekend ticket. We had begun our grieving process a week or so earlier and frankly, I wasn't sure we were going to make it through in one piece. Sonya's offer was kind, thoughtful, selfless and amazingly generous. It took us quite a while to absorb what she was offering and once we began trusting that it was reality and not a dream, we immediately accepted.
A flurry of activity ensued over the next 24-hours to adjust work and school schedules. We had a fun conversation with Mr. Man, who upon learning that we were going to Festival, mentioned a few things we would do on the Land, but then said "And we can say goodbye to Sprouts."
Largely, we embraced this opportunity to provide closure and to say goodbye. Goodbye to Sprouts now that Mr. Man is 4. Goodbye to Festival with Mr. Man on the Land with us. Goodbye to Festival because we choose not to come back with a 5yo boy and aren't in a position to go without him. Goodbye to Festival because we will be out of state next year.
I'll share my Festival highlights in a future post, but here my intent is to say that Sonya is an amazingly thoughtful friend who sacrificed her time and money to make sure we had this opportunity to say goodbye. When we were on the land, no less than three times Mr. Man said to women he did not know, "We weren't going to come, but then a friend helped us."
Not only did Sonya help us cover the ticket, but she kept checking in on us, asking how she could help. When I was so exhausted and emotionally frayed from the intense work and lack of sleep from the preceding week, she asked if there was anything she could do and I was so frazzled I didn't know what to say or what to ask for. My wife helped me problem-solve and we asked Sonya to take Mr. Man for a tractor ride so we could see an act at the Acoustic Stage. Not only did she take him on the tractor ride, but she helped him write a message to us that he left at the message board and she helped him explore a new area of the Land.
I am so grateful for Sonya's kindness and so relieved by her support that I just want to cry. Festival for us was beautiful in many ways, even with its bittersweet undertones. If not for Sonya's friendship, our family would have missed this chapter's end.
Thank you.
Tuesday, August 02, 2005
Buying Frenzy
This is the first in a series of undetermined length - a sort of scrapbook of memories from Michigan Womyn's Music Festival.
Now is the time that all good womyn go shopping for camping gear. For the last 13 years, Stonetree and I have made at least one, generally more, purchases from the local or corporate sporting good store. Frankly I forget last year's purchase, but the last big investment was the Canvas Mansion - the 3 room tent large enough for the family of 3 with an active 4yo. There have been about three different sets of chairs, culminating in the waterproof Thermarest chairs which also double nicely for a changing area for the 4 1/2 month old infant--or at least a place to keep him dry in the middle of a torrential Friday night storm. Seems like we've purchased about five different sets of table service ranging from Grannyware to Tupperware. Then there's the waterproofing gear - the stuff sacks, backpack covers, tarps, and ever-so-attractive ponchos and plastic pants.
Gear is serious stuff at Festival. No one like dykes can pull off loading in fully stocked kitchens, air beds and screened-in lounge areas--all successfully hauled in on wagons or carts over woodchipped paths for a mile or so. Stonetree and I were on the minimalist end of the scale. We enjoyed hiking in our gear for the first five years in Solanas Ferns. (The story of our first hike in is best saved for a future post.) Even when Mr. Man came along, we had probably the least amount of gear of Spouts families.
This year there is no gear shopping for us. Mr. Man is 4 and we're missing the $900 it would take to get us there. Womyn, including many of our friends and aquaintances, are busy buying, shopping, packing and preparing for a week in the woods with nakedness, sweat and music. They are going Home and we are staying home. Some of this is our choosing, some of this is financial and some of this happened by default and lack of planning. We are alone again. Not that it hasn't happened before, at Festival even--the feeling that somehow there aren't many folks or families who live quite like we do or see the world from our angle.
Now is the time that all good womyn go shopping for camping gear. For the last 13 years, Stonetree and I have made at least one, generally more, purchases from the local or corporate sporting good store. Frankly I forget last year's purchase, but the last big investment was the Canvas Mansion - the 3 room tent large enough for the family of 3 with an active 4yo. There have been about three different sets of chairs, culminating in the waterproof Thermarest chairs which also double nicely for a changing area for the 4 1/2 month old infant--or at least a place to keep him dry in the middle of a torrential Friday night storm. Seems like we've purchased about five different sets of table service ranging from Grannyware to Tupperware. Then there's the waterproofing gear - the stuff sacks, backpack covers, tarps, and ever-so-attractive ponchos and plastic pants.
Gear is serious stuff at Festival. No one like dykes can pull off loading in fully stocked kitchens, air beds and screened-in lounge areas--all successfully hauled in on wagons or carts over woodchipped paths for a mile or so. Stonetree and I were on the minimalist end of the scale. We enjoyed hiking in our gear for the first five years in Solanas Ferns. (The story of our first hike in is best saved for a future post.) Even when Mr. Man came along, we had probably the least amount of gear of Spouts families.
This year there is no gear shopping for us. Mr. Man is 4 and we're missing the $900 it would take to get us there. Womyn, including many of our friends and aquaintances, are busy buying, shopping, packing and preparing for a week in the woods with nakedness, sweat and music. They are going Home and we are staying home. Some of this is our choosing, some of this is financial and some of this happened by default and lack of planning. We are alone again. Not that it hasn't happened before, at Festival even--the feeling that somehow there aren't many folks or families who live quite like we do or see the world from our angle.
Thursday, June 30, 2005
The Great Return
Tonight we returned to the Grammies' house to be reunited with Mr. Man. He didn't run up to us and give us a great big hug like I had hoped. He seemed to have a lovely time at the beach and, of course, went to sleep easily for his grandmothers. When it was our turn to put him to sleep tonight we were met with the usual kicking and screaming and running away. It was milder than usual, but it was a bummer to return to, nonetheless. Sigh.
The conference was fine, but the time away with my wife was wonderful. The silence alone was priceless. We sat and read quietly together, ate dinner uninterrupted and relaxed in a hotel room alone for the first time in four years. What a joy. The only down side to the trip is that my computer seems to have died. What a pain.
The conference was fine, but the time away with my wife was wonderful. The silence alone was priceless. We sat and read quietly together, ate dinner uninterrupted and relaxed in a hotel room alone for the first time in four years. What a joy. The only down side to the trip is that my computer seems to have died. What a pain.
Tuesday, June 28, 2005
The Parent Continuum
The last few days have provided many different venues and circumstances in which to contemplate parenting. All of them are vastly different and raise different issues, but they have all happened within the last five days. Intense.
Why is it that one day parenting seems a simple task, others it plows over me like a steamroller while others it feels like a lonely, endless task?
- Pride: One would think that the glbtqa pride festival would be a supportive place to take one's son. Wouldn't queer people be very happy that queer folks are raising up little kids to be queer-supportive? Mr. Man and I went to the pride parade and rally on Saturday. In general I felt alone, save for the few friends with whom we went. I felt like the queer folks in attendance were really self-involved and unaware of a larger community beyond that which supports more self-involved enjoyment. The rally had a polital focus, but beyond that 1-hour event I felt like an outsider because I wasn't into the bar-party-smoke-get laid scene. It felt sort of creepy to be in a place where as a two-mom family I should be embraced, yet I was feeling pushed aside.
- Hippie Wedding Reception: Fast forward four hours after Pride to the scene of a wedding reception for a hippie couple. The couple hiked into a lakeshore sand dune to be married by a revolutionary priest in front of a handful of family members. At the reception we attended they provided two crafts areas for kids to entertain and occupy themselves--complete with a volunteer to keep an eye on the kids in case parents wanted to sneak off to the amazing potluck feast or to get a glass of wine. Het folks win the gold star for creativing a supportive community for parents.
- The Screamer: Mr. Man reached what I hope is the pinnacle of challenging behavior related to sleeping. Sunday night he would not sleep and was screaming and running and hitting and just being a terror. My wife get the Mother Theresa Parenting Medal of Honor. The next day we try to get Mr. Man to take a nap but he resists with the same force from the night prior. I reach a new low of frustration, despair and anxiety about why he acts this way.
- The Parents: In the meantime we've travelled to another city and are staying with my parents. Enter the anxiety and torture of reflecting on bad parenting and being triggered by my own childhood. Then there's the torment of leaving Mr. Man with said parents who installed the childhood issues for two nights/three days while we attend a conference an hour away.
- Freedom: As I write we're away from our child for the first time since he was born four years ago. The silence is defeaning and exquisite. The uninterrupted thought process and the endless possibilities are luxurious. Enjoying this all so much feels wrong, but I try to brush aside the guilt and focus on how much I needed this break; time away from bedtime as a war zone and the over-the-top behavior that we seem unable to curb with any consequences.
Why is it that one day parenting seems a simple task, others it plows over me like a steamroller while others it feels like a lonely, endless task?
Monday, June 20, 2005
The Summer on Wheels
Yesterday I helped Mr. Man learn how to ride his bike sans training wheels. He took to it immediately. I gave him the loving you-might-fall-but-you-can-get-back-up-again speech and some tips for how to stop himself from falling. I guided him a few times, but largely he found his balance and figured out how to keep his bike up almost immediately. I knew he had strong gross motor skills - but damn! Within an hour and without having fallen once, he was off and riding.
He took a little break and when his grandfather came outside to watch, he got a lesson from Papa on how to start by himself. That took a little bit, but Mr. Man was on his bike all day long and by the end of the day he was a pro. He was starting by himself, braking and stopping and riding in sharp circles by the day's end. There was only one spill over which he shed any tears and largely there weren't that many spills.
He was so proud of himself and it was so awesome to watch him be so happy at having mastered a new skill. It was a wonderful day for he and I. I remember like it was yesterday learning to ride my bike for the first time. It's so cool to be on the other side, helping a little one learn. The joy in his eyes was beautiful and I was happy to watch him.
I'm amazed that the baby who grew in my womb has become an independent young person. These milestones are sweet and sad and sometimes I feel intensely how each step he takes is a step further away from me.
Summer is upon us and I'm ready for the ride. Happy solstice.
He took a little break and when his grandfather came outside to watch, he got a lesson from Papa on how to start by himself. That took a little bit, but Mr. Man was on his bike all day long and by the end of the day he was a pro. He was starting by himself, braking and stopping and riding in sharp circles by the day's end. There was only one spill over which he shed any tears and largely there weren't that many spills.
He was so proud of himself and it was so awesome to watch him be so happy at having mastered a new skill. It was a wonderful day for he and I. I remember like it was yesterday learning to ride my bike for the first time. It's so cool to be on the other side, helping a little one learn. The joy in his eyes was beautiful and I was happy to watch him.
I'm amazed that the baby who grew in my womb has become an independent young person. These milestones are sweet and sad and sometimes I feel intensely how each step he takes is a step further away from me.
Summer is upon us and I'm ready for the ride. Happy solstice.
Thursday, June 16, 2005
In the I-Always-Wanted-To Category
is hiking the Appalachian Trail. I was reminded of my longings to do this when I happily stumbled across just wandering's blog. What a great chronicle of an exciting trek, and I particularly like the Canadian perspective!
I could do the physical exertion thing, but the living, pissing, shitting outside for an extended time would likely be my downfall. (Not to mention the whole girly cycle thing! PMS kills me now in the comfort of air conditioned, closed structures.)
Perhaps one day when Mr. Man is more manly we could make a go at it with the help an experienced hiker friend. Fun to think about.
I could do the physical exertion thing, but the living, pissing, shitting outside for an extended time would likely be my downfall. (Not to mention the whole girly cycle thing! PMS kills me now in the comfort of air conditioned, closed structures.)
Perhaps one day when Mr. Man is more manly we could make a go at it with the help an experienced hiker friend. Fun to think about.
Wednesday, June 15, 2005
The Work/Life Balance
I'm generally stressed by the challenge of balancing my work responsibilities with the needs of my family. Mr. Man has come to work with me two mornings this week because my partner (on full-time child care duty) had a five-day migraine. Both days have been a treat. We chilled out together, him playing in my office while I worked and me snuggling him while the "scary" Kipper segment played. Today he helped me collate materials for an upcoming event. After lunch today I shuttled him back home and they dropped me back off at work so they could jet around town for the afternoon. He gave me a long, squishy I love you stare while I walked back into work. I LOVE that!
I cherish these great mom/son work days. They make up for the plethora of stressful post-partum-depressed, stressed-to-the-max days after my maternity leave when I tried to catch up and keep up at work, all the while nursing and diapering my newborn. How did I do that? Better yet, why?
This is way better. Ahhh...balance.
I cherish these great mom/son work days. They make up for the plethora of stressful post-partum-depressed, stressed-to-the-max days after my maternity leave when I tried to catch up and keep up at work, all the while nursing and diapering my newborn. How did I do that? Better yet, why?
This is way better. Ahhh...balance.
Monday, May 23, 2005
Storytelling
I'm on retreat for work, generally a stressful, frustrating experience. Not too bad this time. Miraculously I've had a chance to relax, some quiet reflective time to myself. I took a brief walk in the woods this morning before breakfast and meetings and also walked down to the lake and saw two river otters. The trillium are in bloom and quite beautiful. I'm not even sure I've seen trillium before. At the end of the day's meetings, which were relatively low key, I took a long walk through the woods. I spotted deer tracks, saw the beautiful unfolding process of ferns and saw great fungi growing on fallen birch. More time spent by the lake blessed me with a chance to observe several loons. I collected some birch bark for my son, along with a trail map which I can use to show him where the "rickety old bridge" was that I crossed. Many stories for him when I return.
Meanwhile, I learn that he's been telling stories of his own. I knew at some point he would come to his own understanding of why he has two mothers. I was not prepared to hear from his child care coordinator that he explained to his classmates that his moms killed his daddy and ate him, apparently with great enough detail that the child care coordinator suggested he stop because he was scaring other children. Not sure if the killing or the eating disturbs me more. Actually, he's begun to talk about killing more. Quite puzzling from a kid whose few exposures to the idea of killing come from reading Charlotte's Web and our explanation of carnivores. There's no gun play, no TV, no violence in his environment, yet he's got a fascination with killing. Where do his stories come from?
Meanwhile, I learn that he's been telling stories of his own. I knew at some point he would come to his own understanding of why he has two mothers. I was not prepared to hear from his child care coordinator that he explained to his classmates that his moms killed his daddy and ate him, apparently with great enough detail that the child care coordinator suggested he stop because he was scaring other children. Not sure if the killing or the eating disturbs me more. Actually, he's begun to talk about killing more. Quite puzzling from a kid whose few exposures to the idea of killing come from reading Charlotte's Web and our explanation of carnivores. There's no gun play, no TV, no violence in his environment, yet he's got a fascination with killing. Where do his stories come from?
Tuesday, May 17, 2005
A Mother's Responsibility
I always laughed at the thought of parents who, upon having a child come out, immediately wondered what they did wrong. Pishaw, I thought, how dare a parent think that they were so responsible for a child's becoming.
So here I sit on the other side of the street, watching the laughing me laugh at myself.
My son has blooming "behavior problems." What we thought was a phase or an awkward entry into a new developmental stage has stuck with us to become a concern. I'm now a parent of a child who randomly and spontaneously hits or hurts a child, apparently unprovoked.
The first question I ask myself is, of course, what have I done wrong as a mother? Here on this side of the street, how can I believe that his behavior isn't my failure? Is it our chaotic lives? Is it that generally one of his mothers leaves at bed time to do work, that is more work than what we already did during the 8 hours he was in school and child care? Is he lacking affection and love? Is it that we're feeding him poorly and he's lacking adequate nutrition? Are the toys that he now wants to play with promoting unhealthy play?
I look at myself because I can't bear to look at him. It can't be that he has ill intentions within him. He can't be sitting in the classroom, looking around for the next kid he can walk up to and disrupt or wallop. It can't be that he's obsessed with killing when he says that I killed him or he killed me once a day. He can't be a sociopath or autistic. He just can't.
It has to be me.
So here I sit on the other side of the street, watching the laughing me laugh at myself.
My son has blooming "behavior problems." What we thought was a phase or an awkward entry into a new developmental stage has stuck with us to become a concern. I'm now a parent of a child who randomly and spontaneously hits or hurts a child, apparently unprovoked.
The first question I ask myself is, of course, what have I done wrong as a mother? Here on this side of the street, how can I believe that his behavior isn't my failure? Is it our chaotic lives? Is it that generally one of his mothers leaves at bed time to do work, that is more work than what we already did during the 8 hours he was in school and child care? Is he lacking affection and love? Is it that we're feeding him poorly and he's lacking adequate nutrition? Are the toys that he now wants to play with promoting unhealthy play?
I look at myself because I can't bear to look at him. It can't be that he has ill intentions within him. He can't be sitting in the classroom, looking around for the next kid he can walk up to and disrupt or wallop. It can't be that he's obsessed with killing when he says that I killed him or he killed me once a day. He can't be a sociopath or autistic. He just can't.
It has to be me.
Tuesday, March 01, 2005
The Everglades
Once upon a time I had a great entry planned to help savor the vegan party, but life intervened.
Deep in the Ground helped capture some of it.
Meanwhile I try to get through each day and it becomes increasingly difficult. Current roadblocks:
- incessant eating and six empty wine bottles caused me to gain back 7 pounds. took me about 5 months to lose those fucking 7 pounds and two weeks to gain them back. eating is comfort and escape from my otherwise hellish days, but the cost is too high. so I'm stumbling back onto plan. sucks.
- okay, i'm hormonal. REALLY hormonal. raw to the bone. that's enough, then there's the over-the-top issue of being on the rag with a toilet that keeps breaking
- i try not to be judgmental, but it's so easy... i do have high expectations, i admit. how hard is it to be an organized, professional, intelligent person? i didn't realize these qualities are so rare, but none of the employees i've hired in the last two years were in possession of that winning combo. i'm really fucking over being short-staffed and stupid-staffed. tomorrow i kick some ass.
- my son battles me to go to sleep. kicking, screaming, hitting and all. bed is a war zone and i am weary.
- so many people need me and i have so little to give. wife, son, family and friends all deserve so much and i offer only emptiness.
- at my recent visit to the gyn, i had the joy of having the male doctor admit that the female doctor in their practice induces labor too early, leading to c-section in about 65% of the cases. thanks, she induced me and i've got the scar. intuitively i knew we shouldn't have induced, didn't really need him to confirm that for me. open wounds. (Why I Love My Male Gynecologist is a great post for another day when I'm capable of humor.)
Never been to the Everglades, but I'm knee-deep in the muck of a swamp that goes on forever.
Sunday, February 20, 2005
My Joy, My Joy
Today's issue of Deep In the Ground had a beautiful description of me cooking with Mr. Man tonight. I've begun preparing for my vegan birthday feast tomorrow. A dozen friends are coming to play with Mr. Man so I can spend the day cooking scrumptious vegan food. Mr. Man helped with the peanut butter cup cheesecake and the ambrosia salad.
I can do many things as a parent - some helpful and some unhelpful. If I get one thing right, I hope it's to teach him the love of food and cooking. As I rest my chin on my hand thinking about this post, I take in the scent of garlic and cilantro. The vegan pate cooling downstairs (containing kelp powder and nutritional yeast - a first for me) fills the house with a rich aroma. If I get this right, Mr. Man will not know that the stuff served in McD is food.
I've been working with him in the kitchen since he was old enough to stand on a chair and help in any simple way. Now he's next to me (still standing on a chair) and cutting pineapple with his own kid-sized julienne cutter. He measures and dumps ingredients and pushes the buttons on the Cuisinart. Sometimes it's tough to convince him that making dinner with me would be more fun than playing with his Brio trains, but that's okay - he's just three. I'm proud that he knows where food comes from and how to make good food. It especially tickles me when he asks someone more mainstream than us if the food they are eating is organic. Ha!
I find magic in short supply in my life; thank the Goddesses (Mr. Man always uses the plural) for kitchen witches!
I can do many things as a parent - some helpful and some unhelpful. If I get one thing right, I hope it's to teach him the love of food and cooking. As I rest my chin on my hand thinking about this post, I take in the scent of garlic and cilantro. The vegan pate cooling downstairs (containing kelp powder and nutritional yeast - a first for me) fills the house with a rich aroma. If I get this right, Mr. Man will not know that the stuff served in McD is food.
I've been working with him in the kitchen since he was old enough to stand on a chair and help in any simple way. Now he's next to me (still standing on a chair) and cutting pineapple with his own kid-sized julienne cutter. He measures and dumps ingredients and pushes the buttons on the Cuisinart. Sometimes it's tough to convince him that making dinner with me would be more fun than playing with his Brio trains, but that's okay - he's just three. I'm proud that he knows where food comes from and how to make good food. It especially tickles me when he asks someone more mainstream than us if the food they are eating is organic. Ha!
I find magic in short supply in my life; thank the Goddesses (Mr. Man always uses the plural) for kitchen witches!
Thursday, February 17, 2005
Excuse me, I farted. Can I nurse?
Yep, that's what the little twerp said.
Love the attachment parenting thing, but sure am waiting for the nursing to end.
Love the attachment parenting thing, but sure am waiting for the nursing to end.
Tuesday, February 15, 2005
It was Valentine's Day, dammit
When I started pondering this post it was the 14th, day of red hearts, roses and putrid hallmark cards. For us, however, it's coffee and sharing a cookie in the cafe, playing a game and talking like the adults we rarely get to be amidst the work and parenting. Life is good when you have a wife like I do. Life is good when it's really, REALLY messy, hard and chaotic. I have to remember that when the chaos seems impossible. Pretty, contained lives are boring. So we work really hard and struggle in the working and parent really well and struggle at that too. At the end of the day we have little energy, lots of love and another beautiful, messy day ahead of us.
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