As I mentioned in my recent panicky post, we have less than three months till we put all our stuff in a truck and head east to become cemetery dwellers.
People ask me if I'm excited and I just don't know what to say. I was, and I think I am. I know I will be. But so much must be done first, and right now I don't quite know what I'm supposed to be looking forward to because so much is still unknown, particularly for me. Life in Michigan is in many ways a big, mitten-shaped, blank canvas.
We know where we're living (seminary townhouse), and I think being part of the seminary community will be interesting and good for us. But what does my actual day-to-day life look like? I do not know if I'm (a) getting up and editing two hours in my pajamas before taking my girl for a leisurely walk to the park to smell tulips before lunch, or (b) getting up and putting on stiff clothes I don't currently own and driving 45 minutes to spend 8 hours in a cube at some sort of Evil Spamway Corporation. There is a really big difference between the two.
Freelancing has its, ahem, prose and cons.
I would like to continue the freelance life, but I've never done it full time so I'm nervous about my ability to win enough bread (because health insurance/care will require a lot of extra bread). Yet a job would most likely have to have benefits to be worthwhile since it raises the issues of cars, commutes, clothes, and child care. But in our situation, with "preexisting" health issues, group health insurance is almost priceless, so I might have to take what I can find--if there are any jobs left in Michigan to find.
Another option would be for me move into a Starbucks and simply move from one side of the counter to the other depending on whether I'm working there or freelancing or sleeping. But I might build up an immunity to caffeine, and then I couldn't be a freelancer anymore. It's a rule. (Actually, though, I've heard Starbucks offers benefits and $4000 adoption grants. Hmmmm.)
There is some sort of break-even or tipping point between freelancing and a regular job. Freelancing is a better hourly rate, so a part-time job probably really doesn't make sense, although freelancing does require paying payroll taxes (which has never bothered me since we just had extra tax withheld from Aaron's pay to cover mine, but I'll have to pay quarterly again). But a job with benefits would be a different story. Maybe. Now we'd have child care and commuting costs to consider. So a lot depends on the particulars, but as I'm poking around online, I don't see any tailor-made publishing jobs just begging to be filled. Ten thousand new English major soon-to-be grads, plus half the auto industry, will probably see to that.
What do you think is the tipping point, dear readers? At what point is going back to a "real job" worth it--financially, emotionally, practically? What am I forgetting to consider?
Freelance and work-at-home friends in particular, what are your "wish I'd known that" secrets to making it work well enough to carry the financial load? If you've gone from job to freelance or vice versa, what have been the pros and cons for you?
Most importantly: which would make the best blog fodder?
Showing posts with label wordsmithing. Show all posts
Showing posts with label wordsmithing. Show all posts
Monday, April 27, 2009
Thursday, September 18, 2008
Getting Sit(ter)uated
Where have I been all my life? Oh yes, I have been chained to my computer again, until today, when I escaped to forage for groceries and things to wear with my new red corduroy jacket (which I adore despite my lack of a fashion clue what to do with it). Unfortunately during my many work hours I was easily distracted by shiny things like news! information! interviews! disasters! sudden plummet in office temperature! Sesame Street spoofing Monty Python! Lions fans wailing and cursing their quarterback and coach (why didn't we see that coming?)! Since my work was paid for the project, not the hours, well, I think I made minimum wage this week. Sheesh! (Going back to hourly this week—so I will actually stay focused. I'm distractable but I'm an honest biller!)
I'm kicking off this next round with three days of solo parenting, since Aaron is going to Young Life leadership camp with the other leaders and some kids. Boo hoo, I'd like to go, but Anna wouldn't be so easy to sneak in this year (as she was last year), and anyway, I need to be at a church workshop for our pastoral search committee. Yes, you can say it: SUCKER. But they needed as many people as possible and I like to think I can be kind of useful in the writing of reports (although last time there was a church self-analysis, ahem, didn't work out so well. We do not speak of it.).
All these things gearing up as we get into fall suddenly has my calendar full and my brain spinning with wondering how am I going to do it all? and who's going to watch the kid while I do? All the youth work obviously involves Aaron and me at the same time. Last year I took Anna along to Frontline, which worked semi-okay but won't work any more and limited my usefulness. I didn't do anything with Young Life except help with planning, but I want to try to get back into it.
That means activities that require me to get a babysitter Sunday nights, Monday nights, Wednesday nights if we start our small group study back up, and possibly whenever we decide to have our church meetings, if it's not a time when Aaron can be home. Not such a problem except that during those times all of the young people will be where we are, so I have to find, you know, real grownups.
And all that work I've been doing in the evenings? Most of it's going to have to get done during the day somehow, because if I'm not off somewhere, probably Aaron has a meeting or there's a school sports event that he/we should attend to connect with kids. But life's getting too freaking expensive, so I should really be upping my hours, not cutting them back.
I think I can hear what all of you who are smarter than me are saying: And just how do you think you're going to do all that?
I have no earthly idea.
Excuse me while I go burn my day planner in effigy.
I'm kicking off this next round with three days of solo parenting, since Aaron is going to Young Life leadership camp with the other leaders and some kids. Boo hoo, I'd like to go, but Anna wouldn't be so easy to sneak in this year (as she was last year), and anyway, I need to be at a church workshop for our pastoral search committee. Yes, you can say it: SUCKER. But they needed as many people as possible and I like to think I can be kind of useful in the writing of reports (although last time there was a church self-analysis, ahem, didn't work out so well. We do not speak of it.).
All these things gearing up as we get into fall suddenly has my calendar full and my brain spinning with wondering how am I going to do it all? and who's going to watch the kid while I do? All the youth work obviously involves Aaron and me at the same time. Last year I took Anna along to Frontline, which worked semi-okay but won't work any more and limited my usefulness. I didn't do anything with Young Life except help with planning, but I want to try to get back into it.
That means activities that require me to get a babysitter Sunday nights, Monday nights, Wednesday nights if we start our small group study back up, and possibly whenever we decide to have our church meetings, if it's not a time when Aaron can be home. Not such a problem except that during those times all of the young people will be where we are, so I have to find, you know, real grownups.
And all that work I've been doing in the evenings? Most of it's going to have to get done during the day somehow, because if I'm not off somewhere, probably Aaron has a meeting or there's a school sports event that he/we should attend to connect with kids. But life's getting too freaking expensive, so I should really be upping my hours, not cutting them back.
I think I can hear what all of you who are smarter than me are saying: And just how do you think you're going to do all that?
I have no earthly idea.
Excuse me while I go burn my day planner in effigy.
Monday, September 08, 2008
Zen and the Art of Looking Things Up in the Chicago Manual of Style
I've been spending a lot of quality time with good ol' CMS 15 this week, feeling the zen of its glowing orange cover and rebuilding my love-hate relationship with section 7.90, Hyphenation Guide for Compounds, Combining Forms, and Prefixes for Those Who Care about Such Things.
I'll tell you a secret about being an editor: It's not about knowing how to spell and punctuate everything. It's about knowing when to look it up.
I didn't memorize the dictionary; I have multiple dictionaries on hand. That's because (1) I'm an editor, not a spelling bee champ, and (2) just when you think you know what one says, a publisher asks you to use a different one, and lo and behold, further confirmation that English is a ridiculously nonstandardized language. That's why editing will always be as much art as science and how a surprisingly right-brained and not-detail-obsessed person like me can (I like to think) still be pretty good at it.
Every time I work for a different publisher, I have to retrain my brain a little bit. Each has its own style guide, ideas about whether the dictionary or CMS should take precedence, and house-specific exceptions to CMS, not to mention that each project can have its own exceptions even to the house rules. The last week's rush project had me looking things up on all fronts—probably more than really necessary, but I get a little paranoid when working for someone I haven't worked with much; call it that old freelance insecurity again. But occasionally verifying what I think is right is good for me.
What I really need to work on is starting out strong with my projects. I apparently work better under pressure, but I'd be so much more productive if I could knock off the procrastination so I'm not under the gun by the time I get into The Zone—the kind of focus where I lose track of time as the pages fly by.
Unfortunately, access to The Zone is somewhat inhibited by the presence of The Child.
Another semi-rush project up next. Bring me The Zone and the zen!
How about you? Are you a procrastinator—recovering or proud? What helps you get in your Zone?
I'll tell you a secret about being an editor: It's not about knowing how to spell and punctuate everything. It's about knowing when to look it up.
I didn't memorize the dictionary; I have multiple dictionaries on hand. That's because (1) I'm an editor, not a spelling bee champ, and (2) just when you think you know what one says, a publisher asks you to use a different one, and lo and behold, further confirmation that English is a ridiculously nonstandardized language. That's why editing will always be as much art as science and how a surprisingly right-brained and not-detail-obsessed person like me can (I like to think) still be pretty good at it.
Every time I work for a different publisher, I have to retrain my brain a little bit. Each has its own style guide, ideas about whether the dictionary or CMS should take precedence, and house-specific exceptions to CMS, not to mention that each project can have its own exceptions even to the house rules. The last week's rush project had me looking things up on all fronts—probably more than really necessary, but I get a little paranoid when working for someone I haven't worked with much; call it that old freelance insecurity again. But occasionally verifying what I think is right is good for me.
What I really need to work on is starting out strong with my projects. I apparently work better under pressure, but I'd be so much more productive if I could knock off the procrastination so I'm not under the gun by the time I get into The Zone—the kind of focus where I lose track of time as the pages fly by.
Unfortunately, access to The Zone is somewhat inhibited by the presence of The Child.
Another semi-rush project up next. Bring me The Zone and the zen!
How about you? Are you a procrastinator—recovering or proud? What helps you get in your Zone?
Thursday, August 07, 2008
Work Hard, Play Hard
Crazy days. This week is looking to be divided into the categories work hard (last few days) and socialize hard (next few days). I finished a project, am starting a new one, and have another lined up for after that with possibly another to follow. I would say "The Universe" received all my positive vibes and sent me the work I so desire, except that—here's a Secret for ya—I think that's a bunch of baloney since people who talk this way can't seem to decide whether "The Universe" is a person, place, or thing.
The universe also failed to provide my true desire, which was for my daughter to go back to sleep after she woke up at 5:35 a.m.
Today is the first preseason game for the Lions. We plan to watch via a series of tubes (Internet) before moving on to the important task of going to friends' house for dinner and tosteal play with their Wii.
The other day Aaron put Anna in her Detroit Lions pajamas that were way too big for last year. I came downstairs to say goodnight and she showed me all the lions, pointing and whispering Raaar. Raaar. Her lions always whisper. Insert your own Detroit Kittens meow joke here.
As for Brett Favre, I can't believe he's a Jet now. Even more sad is that now the NFL Network will stop playing that footage of him working out in Mississippi. Where it's hot. Very, very hot. And sweaty . . . and tan. . . . Sorry, you were saying? Oh, right. Jets. Whatever.
Tomorrow we are going up to Portland for an Ethiopian adoption shindig organized around the presence of the lovely Paige, Chou of Habesha Child, and others who are gathering to work on the foundation they started called Ethiopian Orphan Relief. We never make it up to these kinds of gatherings, so this will be our first time meeting some of my online friends (and people I just stalk, ha) from Portland as well as the esteemed visitors. But some of our kids go way back, of course, to their Toukoul orphanage days. Doesn't that just blow your mind?
Please do hop over to the Ethiopian Orphan Relief site and see what they're working on. The funds they raise will help the various organizations in Ethiopia that they have partnered with provide the kids they serve with the things they need and complete projects such as playgrounds and water filtration. I'm eager to hear about it firsthand. And that means you're going to keep hearing about it!
Saturday we are slated for dinner with friends in late celebration of my birthday. I guess if I can't have a Wii, I get to pick the place. (This is our running joke now: "Look at that yacht! You can get me one of those, but if I can't have that, I want a Wii.") Hmm . . . in lieu of Wii, Chinese food or seafood?
The universe also failed to provide my true desire, which was for my daughter to go back to sleep after she woke up at 5:35 a.m.
Today is the first preseason game for the Lions. We plan to watch via a series of tubes (Internet) before moving on to the important task of going to friends' house for dinner and to
The other day Aaron put Anna in her Detroit Lions pajamas that were way too big for last year. I came downstairs to say goodnight and she showed me all the lions, pointing and whispering Raaar. Raaar. Her lions always whisper. Insert your own Detroit Kittens meow joke here.
As for Brett Favre, I can't believe he's a Jet now. Even more sad is that now the NFL Network will stop playing that footage of him working out in Mississippi. Where it's hot. Very, very hot. And sweaty . . . and tan. . . . Sorry, you were saying? Oh, right. Jets. Whatever.
Tomorrow we are going up to Portland for an Ethiopian adoption shindig organized around the presence of the lovely Paige, Chou of Habesha Child, and others who are gathering to work on the foundation they started called Ethiopian Orphan Relief. We never make it up to these kinds of gatherings, so this will be our first time meeting some of my online friends (and people I just stalk, ha) from Portland as well as the esteemed visitors. But some of our kids go way back, of course, to their Toukoul orphanage days. Doesn't that just blow your mind?
Please do hop over to the Ethiopian Orphan Relief site and see what they're working on. The funds they raise will help the various organizations in Ethiopia that they have partnered with provide the kids they serve with the things they need and complete projects such as playgrounds and water filtration. I'm eager to hear about it firsthand. And that means you're going to keep hearing about it!Saturday we are slated for dinner with friends in late celebration of my birthday. I guess if I can't have a Wii, I get to pick the place. (This is our running joke now: "Look at that yacht! You can get me one of those, but if I can't have that, I want a Wii.") Hmm . . . in lieu of Wii, Chinese food or seafood?
Monday, August 04, 2008
My So-Called Work Life
I don't write much about my freelance work here since (1) it's largely me sitting at my computer reading, how much is there to say? and (2) obviously I can't identify projects or clients, though some authors say the darndest things which would make for entertaining blogging.
I'm pleased to report that despite being without Aaron and then our long slacking-off vacation period, I actually did some work and earned some money in July. Some years it seems like the publishing world grinds to a halt in July and I've ended up twiddling my thumbs. This time I had the work and simply took a break from it, but I've already made up for a lot of that and hope to keeping pushing through August and beyond.
For too long I've been the World's Laziest Freelancer. After I left my publishing job and starting working freelance for them, when we moved to Oregon, I didn't even bother finding any other clients for about three years because hey, they kept me busy enough and I earned enough to get by. I didn't treat it like a business—more like something I did a little bit of in between important youth ministry work and frivolous walking on the beach (and the important work of walking on the beach with frivolous youth).
By the time it occurred to me that we really should have one of those mythical emergency funds I'd heard tell of, life started coming after us to show me why. Travel to see family got expensive. We got a house and the siding ate our savings. I found out just how much eye surgery, MRIs, and heart surgery cost, and even though we have decent insurance, the copays, labs, and prescriptions started to add up. The church budget tanked. We took on adoption and travel to Ethiopia and the budget-buster that is baby formula. And, of course, our beloved human distraction, whose limited command of the English language is so far holding her back from being much help in the family business, has been teaching me the difference between working at home and being a work-at-home mom (it's kind of like the difference between one job andtwo jobs three jobs one job with seventeen thousand tasks per day).
Yet I've been trying a bit harder to think of my work as a business and expand my "client list" and it's been starting to pay off. I've also had some conversations about work or jobs come to me on someone else's initiative, which is great for the self-esteem even if no work comes from them. Maybe I could really do this thing.
Still, I have to remind myself when it gets slow and/or I don't get any feedback on my work and I wonder, as every freelancer does, did they figure out I'm a fraud and cross me off their list? that they like me, they really like me!, or they wouldn't keep saying so or sending me work. And the nightmare I had about being made to take an editing test when I dropped by my old workplace didn't come true. Maybe I should really do this thing.
Time to push harder and find out how far I can go.
Everybody needs an editor, and yes, today I can say withgreat some temporary confidence—I'm a good one. Tomorrow? Tomorrow I may well feel like an unwanted, bankrupt incompetent again. Such is the freelance, writing, and creative life.
I'm pleased to report that despite being without Aaron and then our long slacking-off vacation period, I actually did some work and earned some money in July. Some years it seems like the publishing world grinds to a halt in July and I've ended up twiddling my thumbs. This time I had the work and simply took a break from it, but I've already made up for a lot of that and hope to keeping pushing through August and beyond.
For too long I've been the World's Laziest Freelancer. After I left my publishing job and starting working freelance for them, when we moved to Oregon, I didn't even bother finding any other clients for about three years because hey, they kept me busy enough and I earned enough to get by. I didn't treat it like a business—more like something I did a little bit of in between important youth ministry work and frivolous walking on the beach (and the important work of walking on the beach with frivolous youth).
By the time it occurred to me that we really should have one of those mythical emergency funds I'd heard tell of, life started coming after us to show me why. Travel to see family got expensive. We got a house and the siding ate our savings. I found out just how much eye surgery, MRIs, and heart surgery cost, and even though we have decent insurance, the copays, labs, and prescriptions started to add up. The church budget tanked. We took on adoption and travel to Ethiopia and the budget-buster that is baby formula. And, of course, our beloved human distraction, whose limited command of the English language is so far holding her back from being much help in the family business, has been teaching me the difference between working at home and being a work-at-home mom (it's kind of like the difference between one job and
Yet I've been trying a bit harder to think of my work as a business and expand my "client list" and it's been starting to pay off. I've also had some conversations about work or jobs come to me on someone else's initiative, which is great for the self-esteem even if no work comes from them. Maybe I could really do this thing.
Still, I have to remind myself when it gets slow and/or I don't get any feedback on my work and I wonder, as every freelancer does, did they figure out I'm a fraud and cross me off their list? that they like me, they really like me!, or they wouldn't keep saying so or sending me work. And the nightmare I had about being made to take an editing test when I dropped by my old workplace didn't come true. Maybe I should really do this thing.
Time to push harder and find out how far I can go.
Everybody needs an editor, and yes, today I can say with
If I weren't so alone and afraid
They might pay me what I'm worth
Mark Heard, "Nod Over Coffee"
Friday, May 30, 2008
All on the Underhills' Tab
Whew. We've gone from extreme to extreme this week.
Aaron was off to Michigan from last Tuesday afternoon to Sunday evening. I worked worked worked like a mad fool, since I foolishly squandered so much work time before he left (and had some unplanned life interruptions). I pretty much planned my week around How much work can I get done while Anna's asleep? and How can I wear her out so she sleeps? We took some walks around the neighborhood and on the beach and made a shopping/Chinese food run. She was really good for me but dang, I'm glad I'm not on my own all the time.
Even when Aaron got home, no rest for wicked me--I was really really pushing for my Wednesday deadline. I worked more in three days than I usually do in a week and was staring at the computer longer in one day (Tuesday) than any non-cyborg should be. But I made my deadline and got good feedback, so I'm pleased. Imagine how rich I'd be if I worked like all the time--naw, forget it. I do need to up my hours/productivity, but not to that level. What's the saying? In all things . . . procrastination?
Aaron brought a visitor back with him: our old friend Sami, who was a youth group student of his way back when, then a student leader, now a soon-to-be-married college grad. The first couple days we pretty much used her as a nanny while we got caught up on things; Tuesday night they took some kids to a concert (I pass on heavy metal). Wednesday night as our small group was wrapping up some kids stopped by to wish Aaron happy birthday and scope out this Sam person they'd heard tell of.
Yesterday was Aaron's birthday and after our now-standard lazy morning, we drove north for a hike to a waterfall we'd never in 4 1/2 years made it to. The sun came out and the trail did not disappoint; just as you're wondering If that little thing's the creek, how big could this waterfall be? out of nowhere you come to a skinny Indiana-Jones-esque bridge where the creek drops off a 75-foot cliff! Anna was fearless on the bridge. Her dad, not so much. (Chill, Mom. It's totally safe with metal mesh fencing.) Anna loved being carried on her dad's back. And beating him with a fern to make him go faster. If he'd bounce her a little by skipping, she'd burst into giggles.
On the way back we did a couple of errands--when you live in sticksville, at $4.19 a gallon of gas, you have to make the most of your trips to semi-civilization--and hit our favorite Mexican restaurant. Anna was great through all of this despite her shortened nap and the extra excitement. I suppose being carried three miles isn't as tiring as doing the carrying.
To top off the evening Aaron chose one of his favorite movies, Fletch. For his birthday I gave him a basketball hoop, which he said he wanted. And a Bloody Mary, and a steak sandwich . . . and a steak sandwich. I put it on the Underhills' tab.
Aaron was off to Michigan from last Tuesday afternoon to Sunday evening. I worked worked worked like a mad fool, since I foolishly squandered so much work time before he left (and had some unplanned life interruptions). I pretty much planned my week around How much work can I get done while Anna's asleep? and How can I wear her out so she sleeps? We took some walks around the neighborhood and on the beach and made a shopping/Chinese food run. She was really good for me but dang, I'm glad I'm not on my own all the time.
Even when Aaron got home, no rest for wicked me--I was really really pushing for my Wednesday deadline. I worked more in three days than I usually do in a week and was staring at the computer longer in one day (Tuesday) than any non-cyborg should be. But I made my deadline and got good feedback, so I'm pleased. Imagine how rich I'd be if I worked like all the time--naw, forget it. I do need to up my hours/productivity, but not to that level. What's the saying? In all things . . . procrastination?
Aaron brought a visitor back with him: our old friend Sami, who was a youth group student of his way back when, then a student leader, now a soon-to-be-married college grad. The first couple days we pretty much used her as a nanny while we got caught up on things; Tuesday night they took some kids to a concert (I pass on heavy metal). Wednesday night as our small group was wrapping up some kids stopped by to wish Aaron happy birthday and scope out this Sam person they'd heard tell of.
Yesterday was Aaron's birthday and after our now-standard lazy morning, we drove north for a hike to a waterfall we'd never in 4 1/2 years made it to. The sun came out and the trail did not disappoint; just as you're wondering If that little thing's the creek, how big could this waterfall be? out of nowhere you come to a skinny Indiana-Jones-esque bridge where the creek drops off a 75-foot cliff! Anna was fearless on the bridge. Her dad, not so much. (Chill, Mom. It's totally safe with metal mesh fencing.) Anna loved being carried on her dad's back. And beating him with a fern to make him go faster. If he'd bounce her a little by skipping, she'd burst into giggles.
On the way back we did a couple of errands--when you live in sticksville, at $4.19 a gallon of gas, you have to make the most of your trips to semi-civilization--and hit our favorite Mexican restaurant. Anna was great through all of this despite her shortened nap and the extra excitement. I suppose being carried three miles isn't as tiring as doing the carrying.
To top off the evening Aaron chose one of his favorite movies, Fletch. For his birthday I gave him a basketball hoop, which he said he wanted. And a Bloody Mary, and a steak sandwich . . . and a steak sandwich. I put it on the Underhills' tab.
Monday, March 03, 2008
I told you I don't do numbers.
In getting our tax stuff together I discovered that I'd never been paid almost $500 from one of my freelance clients. (I think it's my fault, not theirs.) How could I not notice missing $500?! Must be 'cuz I'm just so, so filthy rich.
Did I mention my aversion to numbers?
Did I mention my aversion to numbers?
Thursday, December 06, 2007
From the House of Catch-Up
Tonight the Husband of the Year is off to the first high school basketball game with his little girl in tow after emailing me from work the fateful, sexy words “If you need a break from the girl, I could take her to the game with me if you want to just chill at home or something.” I rewarded his sexiness by taking him up on the offer. If I can remember what “just chill at home” means, I will turn 
I have been on deadline all week. I like to say “on deadline” because it sounds like I work at the newspaper with Superman. Really it just means I worked so slow that my projects became no longer staggered. Bah, holidays and hurricanes. Hoorah, income. Um, mixed feelings about needing to use scissors in my line of work.
Tonight I used the lazy man’s thesaurus on Microsoft Word looking for a synonym for insight. It suggested imminent, approaching, just around the corner, about to happen. I’d say Word is a little lacking in sharpness, shrewdness, good judgment, intelligence, expertise.
I know all y’all really care about is pictures of Anna, so stay tuned, Christmasey photo ops have begun. Speaking of Christmas, the nerdy time schedule Excel spreadsheet for our trip to Michigan is now taking reservations, so if you’re wondering when our paths may cross, drop me an email.
Thursday, November 01, 2007
National What Was I Thinking Month
Since I have a moment free while enjoying the peaceful sounds of my daughter screaming at her daddy's Grover voice, let me take this moment to take a foolish plunge: I will (attempt to) participate in National Blog Posting Month by posting every single day in November. Even if FunnyWriterMommy is too chicken/smart to take up the challenge. (Oh yes I did, RMM--you in now?)
Clearly I have been hitting the Halloween candy too hard. I am insane, or perhaps the word is irresponsible, to be taking this on while so behind on my work project that makes me want to gouge out my eyes, instead of dealing with the insurance papers I can't make sense of and the filing that doesn't fit in my stacking tray any more because it hasn't been filed since May, with diapers to change and pjs to put on and stories to read, with my mom coming for Thanksgiving, with carpet installers coming TOMORROW MORNING and not a coaster let alone a couch moved out of the living room, never mind what's covering the closet floor.
Oh well. I'm doing this one for me, because blogging might be something else on my to-do list, but it feels good once I've done it. And if it feels good, do it, right? (And if you can't be good, be careful.) I need to write to declutter my head, to use a creative brain muscle, to vent, to record, to remember. No one needs to read it, necessarily, to make it my oxygen. But oh, the high I'll get if you do . . .
So get your commenting fingers ready and let's see what kind of scintillating topics/crap I can come up with to fill the days!
Clearly I have been hitting the Halloween candy too hard. I am insane, or perhaps the word is irresponsible, to be taking this on while so behind on my work project that makes me want to gouge out my eyes, instead of dealing with the insurance papers I can't make sense of and the filing that doesn't fit in my stacking tray any more because it hasn't been filed since May, with diapers to change and pjs to put on and stories to read, with my mom coming for Thanksgiving, with carpet installers coming TOMORROW MORNING and not a coaster let alone a couch moved out of the living room, never mind what's covering the closet floor.
Oh well. I'm doing this one for me, because blogging might be something else on my to-do list, but it feels good once I've done it. And if it feels good, do it, right? (And if you can't be good, be careful.) I need to write to declutter my head, to use a creative brain muscle, to vent, to record, to remember. No one needs to read it, necessarily, to make it my oxygen. But oh, the high I'll get if you do . . .
So get your commenting fingers ready and let's see what kind of scintillating topics/crap I can come up with to fill the days!
"You seem to want to write, so write."Anne Lamott, Bird by Bird
"Shut up, Anne."
Friday, September 07, 2007
Baby Breakdowns and Mommy Meltdowns
Last Friday we were excited to take Anna to her first football game, here at our very own Smallport High School. We love football season, and it was a perfect still-summer evening for small town sports.
Total disaster.
Complete baby breakdown.
Walking in, she was fascinated. Sitting down, she was fine. Meeting a new teacher friend, okay...nope, crying. Being back with us helped some, but the sun was in her eyes and what's that sudden clapping noise and is that the voice of an angry duck god crackling down upon us?! I took her for a walk in the sling and she calmed down. I eased back into the stands gradually so she could get more used to the noise and lights. For a bit she was fine on my lap and looking at friends around us. But then she got upset again and I took her out again, and this time she wasn't going to let me even think about taking her back in there. Soon she was reaching total overstimulation meltdown and we had to bail out. She shrieked as if under pain of death all the way home--thankfully only a mile--and cried all the way through being changed into pjs until we gave her a bottle.
I sat there watching Aaron hold her and wanted to cry myself. What have I done? There goes all the attachment, all the efforts and goodwill and trust undone by the betrayal of a mommy who made her stay in that horrible place until after halftime.
She had been so upset before her bottle, she threw it up all over Aaron and herself. Bad, like Frankfurt-airport bad. (That story coming soon.) He hit the shower and I gave her a bath.
Voila! She was all smiles and giggles. Oh, life is so grand and Mommy and Daddy are so funny! That is, when they're not trying to kill me via the cruel and unusual torture of watching your team lose by 40 points.
This would be the happy ending to the story except that it marked the beginning of a long week of baby breakdowns and mommy meltdowns triggered by a sudden onset of Refusal to Nap Syndrome. RNS is common in homes where one parent works at home during the day, usually intensifying dramatically as the parent's tight nonnegotiable deadline approaches.
I'd gotten a slow start on my work project--trying to get my brain re-engaged and familiar with style rules and all--and desperately needed some nice chunks of quiet concentration time. Ehhhnt, sorry, Dream Baby's not here right now; she's been replaced by Nap Nightmare Baby, who likes to be paid attention to all day and might fake falling asleep after 20 minutes of holding but will cry immediately upon contact with any form of bedding.
Mommy Meltdown #1 came Tuesday afternoon. I was going insane because I couldn't concentrate to work, I couldn't make noise doing anything around the house, I couldn't even take a much-needed nap myself. And as deadline panic approached I didn't have the time/patience to hold her all day or listen to her fuss or monkey around with letting her cry, checking in at increasing intervals, and all that--plus I'm not willing to let my new child bawl her eyes out in a playpen alone anyway, for attachment reasons. Especially after Friday night's debacle.
Tuesday Aaron came home early to save me and got her conked out downstairs somehow. Maybe there was liquor involved; I don't want to know. Wednesday was just as bad--she napped 30 minutes total, until just before our Bible study, which is not really the optimal time. Of course she was an angel for the audience. Thursday I got an hour nap out of her and just let her be awake near me. At least then she was quiet.
Now, happy ending time: With a little sleep-deprivation of my own, I got my work done on time. Today she took two naps again. Tonight she was content in my sling until well into the second quarter. And she even smiled, because we were only down by 8.
Total disaster.
Complete baby breakdown.
Walking in, she was fascinated. Sitting down, she was fine. Meeting a new teacher friend, okay...nope, crying. Being back with us helped some, but the sun was in her eyes and what's that sudden clapping noise and is that the voice of an angry duck god crackling down upon us?! I took her for a walk in the sling and she calmed down. I eased back into the stands gradually so she could get more used to the noise and lights. For a bit she was fine on my lap and looking at friends around us. But then she got upset again and I took her out again, and this time she wasn't going to let me even think about taking her back in there. Soon she was reaching total overstimulation meltdown and we had to bail out. She shrieked as if under pain of death all the way home--thankfully only a mile--and cried all the way through being changed into pjs until we gave her a bottle.
I sat there watching Aaron hold her and wanted to cry myself. What have I done? There goes all the attachment, all the efforts and goodwill and trust undone by the betrayal of a mommy who made her stay in that horrible place until after halftime.
She had been so upset before her bottle, she threw it up all over Aaron and herself. Bad, like Frankfurt-airport bad. (That story coming soon.) He hit the shower and I gave her a bath.
Voila! She was all smiles and giggles. Oh, life is so grand and Mommy and Daddy are so funny! That is, when they're not trying to kill me via the cruel and unusual torture of watching your team lose by 40 points.
This would be the happy ending to the story except that it marked the beginning of a long week of baby breakdowns and mommy meltdowns triggered by a sudden onset of Refusal to Nap Syndrome. RNS is common in homes where one parent works at home during the day, usually intensifying dramatically as the parent's tight nonnegotiable deadline approaches.
I'd gotten a slow start on my work project--trying to get my brain re-engaged and familiar with style rules and all--and desperately needed some nice chunks of quiet concentration time. Ehhhnt, sorry, Dream Baby's not here right now; she's been replaced by Nap Nightmare Baby, who likes to be paid attention to all day and might fake falling asleep after 20 minutes of holding but will cry immediately upon contact with any form of bedding.
Mommy Meltdown #1 came Tuesday afternoon. I was going insane because I couldn't concentrate to work, I couldn't make noise doing anything around the house, I couldn't even take a much-needed nap myself. And as deadline panic approached I didn't have the time/patience to hold her all day or listen to her fuss or monkey around with letting her cry, checking in at increasing intervals, and all that--plus I'm not willing to let my new child bawl her eyes out in a playpen alone anyway, for attachment reasons. Especially after Friday night's debacle.
Tuesday Aaron came home early to save me and got her conked out downstairs somehow. Maybe there was liquor involved; I don't want to know. Wednesday was just as bad--she napped 30 minutes total, until just before our Bible study, which is not really the optimal time. Of course she was an angel for the audience. Thursday I got an hour nap out of her and just let her be awake near me. At least then she was quiet.
Now, happy ending time: With a little sleep-deprivation of my own, I got my work done on time. Today she took two naps again. Tonight she was content in my sling until well into the second quarter. And she even smiled, because we were only down by 8.
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