It is 3:00 in the morning. I am sleeping under a (very thin) blanket for the first time since The Heat began. I am in a deep sleep.
I feel a faint brush on my arm and startle awake.
A tiny voice whispers, "Mommy, did you drop something in the ocean?"
I went into the woods because I wanted to live deliberately. I wanted to live deep and suck out all the marrow of life...to put to rout all that was not life; and not, when I came to die, discover that I had not lived. ~Henry David Thoreau
Wednesday, September 26, 2012
Tuesday, September 18, 2012
A Yarn about Yarn (and small businesses)
Yikes! Another knitting post! I promise if you hang in there I'll make it worth your while. Also--it's not just about knitting. It's also about America. And don't we all just feel so patriotic, what with the elections coming up? Ha! Sometimes I think it's probably a good idea that I don't teach 8th grade (American) history. Once I get going it's hard to stop.
ANYWAY.
On Thursday I was able to leave school around 3:00 rather than my usual 3:30. Ben gets mad at me when I pick him up too early because they have recess at 3:00, so I couldn't pick him up quite yet. So I headed over to pick Emma up. Across the street from Emma's daycare is a little yarn store. They have a great selection of yarn, and the proprietors are this Asian couple that crack me up. The wife sits at the table (yarn stores have tables where you can sit and knit) with her friends, knitting and shouting at each other in what sounds like Korean while the husband sits on a couch off to the side, stoically reading his paper. They usually look at me weird when I come in, but they're helpful when I ask, and the husband usually rings me up with that Resigned Husband look (and a smile if my kids are with me). None of their books or magazines are in English, and we don't really understand each other when we try to talk. But their selection is incredible, and I love the personality of the place. So...on my way to pick up Emma, I was really early, so I decided to stop by the yarn store on my way. I made Em a hat and legwarmers out of some yarn I got there, and I wanted to get some more so I could make a matching sweater. When I pulled into the parking lot the place was gone. No more signage, no more yarn. Gone. I got really sad. I mean, I can buy this yarn online. But I hate paying shipping, and I'd really come to love this quirky little place. Sad.
I picked up the kids and still had a bit of time before I needed to get home, so I headed over to another yarn store that's fairly close to my house. I don't go there often because the proprietor is not very friendly, but they have a ton of yarn, and I knew they had the kind I needed for this sweater. Gone. Seriously. No signage, no yarn. It's like it never existed. Now, I took a break from buying yarn this summer because I bought a lot during some sales in the spring and I was trying to be good and use what I had. But two yarn stores at the same time? I was devastated. Because now I was going to need to buy the yarn online and pay shipping. And yarn is different than books. How a yarn feels is important. I don't like buying it until I've touched it. Sure, sometimes I do what I did on Thursday and go into a yarn store for a specific item. But more often I go into a yarn store to browse--to touch and feel and be inspired. I fall in love with yarn in a yarn store. I fall in love with knitting in a yarn store. And not only that, but all the yarn stores that I know of also offer classes and workshops. Which, for someone like me who really has no serious knitting friends that live close enough so we can sit and knit together, is nice. I've given lessons to friends and neighbors, but (and this isn't to be snotty), I'm the most advanced local knitter that I know, so it's nice to have help when I need it. And did I mention touching the yarn? Sigh.
From the second closed yarn store I decided to go to one more that was within a reasonable distance. When I lost my knitting bag, it contained a small booklet of patterns that I loved. It's a British booklet, so it's hard to find, even online. But I'd purchased it at this last yarn store, which also happens to be my favorite. They have a small selection of expensive stuff, so I really can only buy there on a splurge. But the proprietor is lovely, and the ladies at the table are so sweet and are constantly oohing and aahing over my children. I love it there. So I went to get my book. Thankfully, it was still open. The woman working wasn't the proprietor, but she was very sweet. I couldn't find my book, and she spent 10 minutes helping me search for it. My kids were tearing the place apart, reorganizing yarn and books. I spent most of my time running from kid to kid, trying to put back everything those quick little buggers were taking out. But I finally found the book, and I think the woman was more excited than me. And while I was frustrated and embarrassed about my crazy kids, she could have cared less about the mess.
Guys--we need small businesses. No one on Amazon is going to spend that kind of time and energy helping you find a stupid book. The employees of Barnes and Noble don't yell at each other in Korean while the husband sits on the couch and reads a paper. Sure, big businesses are often cheaper and more convenient. And I frequent them. But sometimes people don't want to work for a big company with a CEO in the sky that pays them minimum wage and no sick days. They dream of running their own little quiet bookshop or yarn store or whatever that lets them live their passion and pay the bills and foster community in their town.
So don't let the little stores die. I hate paying shipping.
ANYWAY.
On Thursday I was able to leave school around 3:00 rather than my usual 3:30. Ben gets mad at me when I pick him up too early because they have recess at 3:00, so I couldn't pick him up quite yet. So I headed over to pick Emma up. Across the street from Emma's daycare is a little yarn store. They have a great selection of yarn, and the proprietors are this Asian couple that crack me up. The wife sits at the table (yarn stores have tables where you can sit and knit) with her friends, knitting and shouting at each other in what sounds like Korean while the husband sits on a couch off to the side, stoically reading his paper. They usually look at me weird when I come in, but they're helpful when I ask, and the husband usually rings me up with that Resigned Husband look (and a smile if my kids are with me). None of their books or magazines are in English, and we don't really understand each other when we try to talk. But their selection is incredible, and I love the personality of the place. So...on my way to pick up Emma, I was really early, so I decided to stop by the yarn store on my way. I made Em a hat and legwarmers out of some yarn I got there, and I wanted to get some more so I could make a matching sweater. When I pulled into the parking lot the place was gone. No more signage, no more yarn. Gone. I got really sad. I mean, I can buy this yarn online. But I hate paying shipping, and I'd really come to love this quirky little place. Sad.
I picked up the kids and still had a bit of time before I needed to get home, so I headed over to another yarn store that's fairly close to my house. I don't go there often because the proprietor is not very friendly, but they have a ton of yarn, and I knew they had the kind I needed for this sweater. Gone. Seriously. No signage, no yarn. It's like it never existed. Now, I took a break from buying yarn this summer because I bought a lot during some sales in the spring and I was trying to be good and use what I had. But two yarn stores at the same time? I was devastated. Because now I was going to need to buy the yarn online and pay shipping. And yarn is different than books. How a yarn feels is important. I don't like buying it until I've touched it. Sure, sometimes I do what I did on Thursday and go into a yarn store for a specific item. But more often I go into a yarn store to browse--to touch and feel and be inspired. I fall in love with yarn in a yarn store. I fall in love with knitting in a yarn store. And not only that, but all the yarn stores that I know of also offer classes and workshops. Which, for someone like me who really has no serious knitting friends that live close enough so we can sit and knit together, is nice. I've given lessons to friends and neighbors, but (and this isn't to be snotty), I'm the most advanced local knitter that I know, so it's nice to have help when I need it. And did I mention touching the yarn? Sigh.
From the second closed yarn store I decided to go to one more that was within a reasonable distance. When I lost my knitting bag, it contained a small booklet of patterns that I loved. It's a British booklet, so it's hard to find, even online. But I'd purchased it at this last yarn store, which also happens to be my favorite. They have a small selection of expensive stuff, so I really can only buy there on a splurge. But the proprietor is lovely, and the ladies at the table are so sweet and are constantly oohing and aahing over my children. I love it there. So I went to get my book. Thankfully, it was still open. The woman working wasn't the proprietor, but she was very sweet. I couldn't find my book, and she spent 10 minutes helping me search for it. My kids were tearing the place apart, reorganizing yarn and books. I spent most of my time running from kid to kid, trying to put back everything those quick little buggers were taking out. But I finally found the book, and I think the woman was more excited than me. And while I was frustrated and embarrassed about my crazy kids, she could have cared less about the mess.
Guys--we need small businesses. No one on Amazon is going to spend that kind of time and energy helping you find a stupid book. The employees of Barnes and Noble don't yell at each other in Korean while the husband sits on the couch and reads a paper. Sure, big businesses are often cheaper and more convenient. And I frequent them. But sometimes people don't want to work for a big company with a CEO in the sky that pays them minimum wage and no sick days. They dream of running their own little quiet bookshop or yarn store or whatever that lets them live their passion and pay the bills and foster community in their town.
So don't let the little stores die. I hate paying shipping.
 |
| Sweet Em, in a sweater knit with some delicious Angora from the Crazy Asian Yarn Store |
Tuesday, September 11, 2012
Finding the New Normal
First, let me just get this off my chest. Warning: Maybe two or three people will care about this. But if you care about me, you care about what's important to me. So...you'd better be properly sad. Sometime during the course of our anniversary weekend trip I lost my little bag of knitting. Devastating. I was 3/4 of the way done with an adorable little sweater for Emma. That's several weeks' worth of work. And it was in a delicious and lovely yarn that is now discontinued. And it was on the set of needles that I need for about 5/6 of the things I knit, as well as another set of needles I frequently need. Unacceptable. I finally started working on another project, but it took me a while to pick one that didn't require the use of either of those needles (I didn't want to go and replace them just to find the bag the next day). Last night I hit a point where I needed my stitch holders, so I went to grab my little baggie of miscellaneous things. Guess where that little baggie is? Yeah. In the bag I lost. So now I need to replace two of my favorite and most needed needles, stitch holders, stitch markers, tapestry needles, a gauge, and counters. So like everything I need to knit. And I can't replace the yarn. Or the three weeks' work. Sigh. My life is so sad. Good thing our California tax refund FINALLY showed up, so I can go to Joann's with every coupon I can dig up to replace my knitting supplies and get back to work.
Onto other things.This weekend was lovely. I was feeling pretty ill, but it forced us to just stay at home all weekend, which was really good. We filled up the pools, had picnics, stayed in our jammies and watched movies...just what we all so desperately needed. Just to be together at home, resting. Sunday night I had book club. I missed the last one because I had a friend in need. So it's been several months. As an introvert, whenever I get that rare moment of free time I usually choose to be alone. I forgot how refreshing it is to occasionally sit down with friends, a good book, and good food. Thanks, girls. Now someone call or text or email and remind me what our next book is because I already forgot.
Yesterday was Monday, which means we were back to reality. I expected it to be rough for Emma, and in the morning it was. Leg One of daycare was ugly (apparently--I just go off what the babysitter says). But after her morning nap she rallied, and she actually played and didn't cry for the rest of the day. She wasn't exactly the life of the party, but she wasn't screaming her head off. I even got a text that said the babysitter was happy. I'll take it. And on the way to pick her up, Ben said that the reason she cried so much was that she missed him. Sob. Probably, buddy.
In the evening the kids and I played outside while Matt had Matt Night. Ben was so full of his one-liners it was ridiculous. I could have drowned your facebook news feeds in them. Like when he said, "Sorry. I'm staying home tonight. I'm going to hang out. Because it's Ben Night." My mom came over to deliver the playhouse she, my step-dad, and my grandma bought Emma for her birthday. We set it up and the kids played. Ben had a really hard time not helping. He kept trying to jump in with his tools and help. He was moments away from a time-out. When I told him for the 9th time that he seriously needed to stop and follow directions, he said, "Ninjas never give up." I countered with, "Ninjas also listen to their moms and follow directions." Then he launched into a lengthy story about some ninjas who didn't listen to their sensei and they did what they wanted anyway. I asked him what happened, and he said nothing. Figures. Stupid ninjas. But Emma loved her playhouse. Really she just went in and out the door with the phone in her hand. Ben kept trying to ninja his way in through the window and up on the roof, despite repeated warnings. Because, you know, ninjas never give up.
Neither do moms, pal.
Onto other things.This weekend was lovely. I was feeling pretty ill, but it forced us to just stay at home all weekend, which was really good. We filled up the pools, had picnics, stayed in our jammies and watched movies...just what we all so desperately needed. Just to be together at home, resting. Sunday night I had book club. I missed the last one because I had a friend in need. So it's been several months. As an introvert, whenever I get that rare moment of free time I usually choose to be alone. I forgot how refreshing it is to occasionally sit down with friends, a good book, and good food. Thanks, girls. Now someone call or text or email and remind me what our next book is because I already forgot.
Yesterday was Monday, which means we were back to reality. I expected it to be rough for Emma, and in the morning it was. Leg One of daycare was ugly (apparently--I just go off what the babysitter says). But after her morning nap she rallied, and she actually played and didn't cry for the rest of the day. She wasn't exactly the life of the party, but she wasn't screaming her head off. I even got a text that said the babysitter was happy. I'll take it. And on the way to pick her up, Ben said that the reason she cried so much was that she missed him. Sob. Probably, buddy.
In the evening the kids and I played outside while Matt had Matt Night. Ben was so full of his one-liners it was ridiculous. I could have drowned your facebook news feeds in them. Like when he said, "Sorry. I'm staying home tonight. I'm going to hang out. Because it's Ben Night." My mom came over to deliver the playhouse she, my step-dad, and my grandma bought Emma for her birthday. We set it up and the kids played. Ben had a really hard time not helping. He kept trying to jump in with his tools and help. He was moments away from a time-out. When I told him for the 9th time that he seriously needed to stop and follow directions, he said, "Ninjas never give up." I countered with, "Ninjas also listen to their moms and follow directions." Then he launched into a lengthy story about some ninjas who didn't listen to their sensei and they did what they wanted anyway. I asked him what happened, and he said nothing. Figures. Stupid ninjas. But Emma loved her playhouse. Really she just went in and out the door with the phone in her hand. Ben kept trying to ninja his way in through the window and up on the roof, despite repeated warnings. Because, you know, ninjas never give up.
Neither do moms, pal.
Thursday, September 6, 2012
The God of Rainbows and Wine
I've been debating whether or not this post should happen. It's not a fun one. But hey, they can't all be fun, right? I'm behind on updates and pictures and whatever. Maybe this weekend I'll catch up. But today this is Blog As Catharsis.
This week is not going well for Emma. And let's be honest, when Emma's not happy, no one's happy. She has a new daycare--and this is actually her first time in Real Daycare. You know, the kind with other kids. It's a small in-home daycare, so there aren't a lot of kids. But it's definitely new for her. And she's been with me all summer. And her last babysitter, you know, kind of kidnapped her for a few hours. So there's that. Also, the last few weeks we've tried church have not been fantastic. So I walked into Tuesday knowing that it would be hard. I had no idea. I mean, it was going to be a transition, to be sure. And at her age separation anxiety is already an issue. But seriously--while I knew it would be hard, I was not prepared for how bad.
And when I say bad, I don't mean "she cried when I dropped her off." I mean she screamed like someone was murdering her, and then continued to do so. For the rest of the day. Do you know how I know? Because the babysitter kept calling me throughout the day to tell me. Thankfully I did not have students on Tuesday. But the whole day was a blur of trying to focus on my job and trying to not completely break down.
Let me go ahead and close out the Mommy Wars: Going to work is worse. Hands down. Having those days when you think you might lose your mind because you haven't peed alone or talked to another adult in who knows how long is CHOCOLATE CAKE compared to being consumed with a shattered heart that keeps breaking over and over again every time you get another phone call or text. And I'll take changing that 342nd diaper over spending every breath fighting that relentless voice in your head telling you that you're a terrible mother who is abandoning your miserable and angry child. ANY. DAY. And I LOVE my job. I can't imagine the battle you wage when you have to go through all of that and work a job that makes you miserable.
Yesterday wasn't much better. Except that I told the babysitter she needed to communicate with Matt instead of me because I couldn't spend my entire day crying. Because of the teaching or whatever. So the day went a little better for me. My students seem like an amazing group, and I'm excited for the year. And the babysitter wasn't calling. But admittedly I was distracted. Because, you know, the babysitter was calling Matt to tell him that a) separation trouble is normal, and b) Emma's constant screaming was making everyone miserable (including her). Today neither of us heard from her, but apparently Emma's day today was the same as yesterday. And because that's not enough, Emma wouldn't sleep last night. The poor thing would not leave my arms for anything.
I know this is (fairly) normal. I know that she'll adjust. I know that I'm not a bad mom. I know that everything will be okay. But damn it if this isn't just about the most heartache I've ever felt. And that bastard Satan is unrelenting. God has been good, though. He has helped me keep the fear and guilt and anxiety and depression at bay. Other than a few moments when I hit a breaking point, I've held it together surprisingly well. Because really, it's not just that Emma's crying. It's that my mind and heart seem to be engaged in some kind of war of attrition. Apparently it won't end until there's nothing left of me. And I'm fighting, I am. And most of the time I'm winning. But seriously. This needs to end soon. Because this year was supposed to be different. This year was supposed to start off great. I was supposed to great the new year with alacrity and hope. Instead I'm clawing for survival.
But I don't want this post to end there. Because I'm fighting. With everything in me I'm fighting. I refuse to listen to the lies, and I refuse to abandon hope. And today God sent me a rainbow. Not the kind that comes at the end of the storm. The kind (and I'm not sure that this is physically possible, but it my metaphor it is) that is there when it's still pouring down rain. So I'm standing here soaked through with no abatement in sight. But there's still a promise. A promise that God is still there, still providing, still listening.This is going to be a long and hard road, but Emma will be okay. I will be okay. And one of these days I'll be able to post a blog that says, "Emma had a great day at daycare!" And I will kick anxiety and depression's ass so hard it will never come back.
So tomorrow is a new day. Maybe it will be good, maybe it will be ugly. Either way, God will still be there. And so will a glass of wine.
This week is not going well for Emma. And let's be honest, when Emma's not happy, no one's happy. She has a new daycare--and this is actually her first time in Real Daycare. You know, the kind with other kids. It's a small in-home daycare, so there aren't a lot of kids. But it's definitely new for her. And she's been with me all summer. And her last babysitter, you know, kind of kidnapped her for a few hours. So there's that. Also, the last few weeks we've tried church have not been fantastic. So I walked into Tuesday knowing that it would be hard. I had no idea. I mean, it was going to be a transition, to be sure. And at her age separation anxiety is already an issue. But seriously--while I knew it would be hard, I was not prepared for how bad.
And when I say bad, I don't mean "she cried when I dropped her off." I mean she screamed like someone was murdering her, and then continued to do so. For the rest of the day. Do you know how I know? Because the babysitter kept calling me throughout the day to tell me. Thankfully I did not have students on Tuesday. But the whole day was a blur of trying to focus on my job and trying to not completely break down.
Let me go ahead and close out the Mommy Wars: Going to work is worse. Hands down. Having those days when you think you might lose your mind because you haven't peed alone or talked to another adult in who knows how long is CHOCOLATE CAKE compared to being consumed with a shattered heart that keeps breaking over and over again every time you get another phone call or text. And I'll take changing that 342nd diaper over spending every breath fighting that relentless voice in your head telling you that you're a terrible mother who is abandoning your miserable and angry child. ANY. DAY. And I LOVE my job. I can't imagine the battle you wage when you have to go through all of that and work a job that makes you miserable.
Yesterday wasn't much better. Except that I told the babysitter she needed to communicate with Matt instead of me because I couldn't spend my entire day crying. Because of the teaching or whatever. So the day went a little better for me. My students seem like an amazing group, and I'm excited for the year. And the babysitter wasn't calling. But admittedly I was distracted. Because, you know, the babysitter was calling Matt to tell him that a) separation trouble is normal, and b) Emma's constant screaming was making everyone miserable (including her). Today neither of us heard from her, but apparently Emma's day today was the same as yesterday. And because that's not enough, Emma wouldn't sleep last night. The poor thing would not leave my arms for anything.
I know this is (fairly) normal. I know that she'll adjust. I know that I'm not a bad mom. I know that everything will be okay. But damn it if this isn't just about the most heartache I've ever felt. And that bastard Satan is unrelenting. God has been good, though. He has helped me keep the fear and guilt and anxiety and depression at bay. Other than a few moments when I hit a breaking point, I've held it together surprisingly well. Because really, it's not just that Emma's crying. It's that my mind and heart seem to be engaged in some kind of war of attrition. Apparently it won't end until there's nothing left of me. And I'm fighting, I am. And most of the time I'm winning. But seriously. This needs to end soon. Because this year was supposed to be different. This year was supposed to start off great. I was supposed to great the new year with alacrity and hope. Instead I'm clawing for survival.
But I don't want this post to end there. Because I'm fighting. With everything in me I'm fighting. I refuse to listen to the lies, and I refuse to abandon hope. And today God sent me a rainbow. Not the kind that comes at the end of the storm. The kind (and I'm not sure that this is physically possible, but it my metaphor it is) that is there when it's still pouring down rain. So I'm standing here soaked through with no abatement in sight. But there's still a promise. A promise that God is still there, still providing, still listening.This is going to be a long and hard road, but Emma will be okay. I will be okay. And one of these days I'll be able to post a blog that says, "Emma had a great day at daycare!" And I will kick anxiety and depression's ass so hard it will never come back.
So tomorrow is a new day. Maybe it will be good, maybe it will be ugly. Either way, God will still be there. And so will a glass of wine.
Tuesday, September 4, 2012
Preparing for Re-entry
Today Emma starts her very first day of real daycare.
Let's just take a moment...sigh.
I feel good about her new situation. We ended up finding someone who is not just licensed but the president of child care or the chair of the board of directors or something. She's a member of like eight child care organizations. Pretty sure she's not going to take off with Emma. She seems a bit of a rule Nazi, but I'm okay with that. We seem to have gone from one extreme to the other. But I'm confident this is the superior extreme. Emma will do great. I will weep and freak out. In fact, Emma probably will too. For this entire week. The last two weeks at church have not gone well. But this is how it is. And we will be fine. We will adjust, and she will thrive.
Benjamin is spending the day with my mom, since his school doesn't start until tomorrow.
Lord, beer me strength.
Let's just take a moment...sigh.
I feel good about her new situation. We ended up finding someone who is not just licensed but the president of child care or the chair of the board of directors or something. She's a member of like eight child care organizations. Pretty sure she's not going to take off with Emma. She seems a bit of a rule Nazi, but I'm okay with that. We seem to have gone from one extreme to the other. But I'm confident this is the superior extreme. Emma will do great. I will weep and freak out. In fact, Emma probably will too. For this entire week. The last two weeks at church have not gone well. But this is how it is. And we will be fine. We will adjust, and she will thrive.
Benjamin is spending the day with my mom, since his school doesn't start until tomorrow.
Lord, beer me strength.