The Time Has Come

It's back to work next week. Where did six months go? Is she really that old, she's been with us for half a year already? This maternity leave thing is all wrong. They should be handed out to nannies when they are newborns and much more work (at least for half days). Now that she's six months and laughing and cooing and playing is when all the moms should leave work again and stay home and enjoy them and have fun. Oh well.

I like being freelance though because its not as if its the END. Its just a few weeks, maybe more, but I can always demur and say I want to be home. I probably will follow the money as I usually do. But I like the option, I like not 'working for the man', I like the idea that I might have another chunk of time with her again.


Doing the math on nanny costs was an eye opener though. It makes sense for me as I make good money when I do work, but motoboy was alarmed and had to go through his monthly budget to make sure it will work. Good thing race season is over! No more racebikes with broken parts that have to be ordered from Europe! Time for him to clean out the bunker and sell some old bike parts on ebay. It does feel like we are really a family now, with family budgeting and cost cutting to be looked at. Packing lunches. No thrice weekly meals out. Trimming those utilities and bills. Thinking about mortgages. Its actually a lot more fun than it sounds though. Because we have this sweet little person who looks almost exactly half like him and half like me. That's why we do it. We get to come home to her every night to remind us.

It will be interesting to see if work feels more stressful for me, knowing she is at home, or if it will be some sort of guilty relief that I can actually get personal stuff done during the day. You know, like uninterrupted phone calls, or lunch with adults. A pedicure in the middle of the day. A walk through downtown. TJ Maxxin. I think I will keep having that flash worry of 'where did I leave the baby?' Oh at home, with our friend and nanny who loves her so much.

I feel a little sick about it, a little excited. And blessed that I had this much time to begin with. Here goes, adult stuff. You really do only feel grown up at certain watersheds, this being mine I guess.

E

My Other Writing

Listen. I know this blog isn't very good. I know this because I don't try very hard at it. I'm tired of trying to be cute, or clever, or in the zeitgeist of whatever is trendy online that week. Blogs are over with anyway. Remember before facebook or twitter, when if a video was going viral you had to actually copy and paste the embed language into your blog post? Now I can just tap and put it on facebook and you can glance at it, laugh, and be over the joke - all in the time it used to take me to post it.

This blog serves a much more selfish purpose. I don't even care if anyone reads it, and I don't promote it or tell anyone about it. Not surprisingly, no one asks to see it even when I casually mention I have one. I'm writing this to remember. My friends who have kids 3, 4, 5 years older than my girl can't remember anything about the infant years. Its all such a blur, so they are terrible at advice giving. Your brain has to make room for new things like learning to read and school choices and nutrition I suppose. I get it. But I've kept in touch with my friends who had babies also this year because they REMEMBER. The sympathy is more fresh, and the advice more on topic. I'm going to enjoy flipping back here and revisiting our struggles with firsts - sleeping, feeding, staying above water in every which way. There is nothing more challenging than this. I thought it was a joke before I got pregnant. THIS IS NO JOKE. But I wouldn't change a damn thing for the life of me.

So in this vein I'm also working on a TV pilot idea about all this stuff. I imagine its been done before. Certainly successful TV writers have kids and see the opportunity for new material? I won't let on my exact angle because I don't want anyone to beat me to the punch. At this once-weekly writing session  type schedule, it might take a while. And I have a lot more material to gather at any rate. So here's an excerpt of a draft, I hope you enjoy it. All three of you. I love you!

E

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CUT TO: A different darker rock bar, later that night. MARY is talking to ZOE, who is headed into the bathroom.

MARY: I’ll meet you at the bar!

MARY approaches the bar and a friendly tattooed female bartender gives her a nod.

BARTENDER: I’ll be right with you.

MARY: Ok!

Mary fidgets and stacks all the coasters in sight, taking furtive glances toward the bathroom.

BARTENDER: What can I get you?

MARY: Do you have any N.A. beer?

BARTENDER: Any what?

MARY: NON-ALCOHOLIC. Non-Alcoholic beer.

BARTENDER: Oh yeah, I’ve got Becks NA, O’Douls...

MARY: Becks, Beck’s I’ll take that. And a glass please.

The bartender nods her head and takes a few more minutes to get the beer, MARY is practically leaned all the way over the bar and has her money ready.

BARTENDER: Five bucks.

MARY: Here you go, thanks.

MARY pours the beer into a glass and slides the empty beer bottle near some others by the time the bartender returns with the change. At the same moment her friend ZOE returns from the bathroom. There’s a fine line of sweat above MARY’s brow.

ZOE: I told you I was getting the next round birthday girl.

MARY: Oh sorry you know me, always first one at the bar! Should we see if anyone is upstairs?

ZOE & MARY come out to a rooftop deck and see 4-5 of the original crew who were at the cocktail bar.  

BETH is there, with a small group of other girls and a few guys.

BETH: Oh look I got you a gin and tonic! It’s ginormous isn’t that funny its bigger than my regular tonic ha ha ha!

MARY, confused, takes the drink and gives BETH a look to take it down a notch.

VICTORIA: I was so shocked Beth ordered a regular tonic at the bar, I said ‘is something going on you haven’t told me about’?

BETH & MARY (forced): HA HA HA.

MARY: Anyhoo, have you guys ordered some food? I’m kinda starving.

Three Generations

My mom is here this week and even though I had to do a lot of annoying things (dermotologist, dentist, two trips to the North Shore to get my tire rim fixed), there's something so sweet about having grandma here.

The first night my mom went to sleep in the nursery (that's the only spare bed in the house, is the little soft daybed JenG gave us) I was overcome with a warm fuzzy feeling. My mom and my daughter are tucked up together in the same room, warm and cozy and...together. I can tell that the baby makes my mom so happy. She doesn't need to do anything or see anybody. She's just clocking in as much baby time as possible. When I tell her that I need to run out for a few hours she sits up straight and gets energized, excited that her role is here. Grandma powers concentrated! Also, she gets up and rocks the baby if she wakes up in the middle of the night, which is becoming more rare. But now that she's moved to the nursery its so nice to not have to get out of bed at all. This is such a win-win for everyone involved. Especially motoboy who is taking advantage and getting as much race prep done as he can since mom arrived. He's very lucky about this timing.


Am battling another on-edge week of waiting for a job prospect to call me back ('let's talk on Monday', he now says), but am trying to soak up all the warm fuzzy grandma and baby feelings I can muster. And giving grandma beer and wine with dinner also leads to little bits of gossip here and there. "Why no, I never knew she was a topless dancer!" I said. That actually came out over omelets this morning. Grandma is good for gossip any time.

And especially good at baby holding.

E

A Week of Annoyances

I think my maternity leave needs to come to an end. As much as I am head over heels in loooove with my baby (there's no better baby), as much as I love having time off and hate working, as much as I think its been good for her...

I'm bored.

My brain hurts from it not being exercised.

My body needs more walking to the train and such, and less house puttering. (Not to mention a lunchtime workout if I can manage it.)

I need to stop resenting motoboy because he just can't physically catch up to the amount of baby wrangling I'm clocking.

I need to stop pulling money from savings. (My precious savings that I love to look at when I'm depressed!) I need to start making some paychecks.

I know most moms don't get 5 months at home with their new ones, and I do realize how lucky I am. But also, most moms maybe then don't know how mind numbingly boring a rainy Wednesday is with an infant that isn't even sitting up yet. I can play with her and make her laugh and read her books but in all reality, come Friday afternoon I'm holding a fussy baby on my lap, playing reality shows on hulu and clock watching for daddy to come home so I can have someone to hand her to while I go stretch my neck - towards a tall cool one. 

And I don't know why its just hit me this week. The construction is still going on in the back porch. My breastfeeding output is a joke since I stopped taking Reglan (scary side effect possibilities). The washing machine was out of order because the drywall guys put plaster down the drain. The dog has been a jerkface on the leash and the baby is taking half hour naps. I had a line on some part time freelance work and they ignored me a week past when they said they could book me, only to drop me (for someone better suited to 'filling out the kinds of forms we need'). Which was a relief after I saw how they operated. And thinking about last minute daycare options for a part time scenario was also making me stressed. I knew I couldn't really hire a nanny until I knew my hours and I didn't know my hours because I didn't have the job yet. I'll get another gig, I'm sure. But golly all these things made me cranky.

Andromeda, you can't get here fast enough. I need some girlfriend time! And I need our little girlfriends to trade outfits like we used to. We won't be able to do that for some time yet. I got some lactation cookies for you to try. They sure do look like regular cookies. But for my boobies, I will sacrifice!

E