Life with a two-year-old is never dull. Just as soon as I think I can take my eye off Carter and maybe take a deep breath or watch a commercial all the way through, he reminds me that’s not really an option. Last night, wallowing in my whale-like state, I was laying on the couch with half an eye on the TV while Carter decided Winston needed some more food. This is a regular duty of Carter’s that I have helped with and supervised many times, so it was nothing out of the ordinary and meant that I wouldn’t have to do it later.
He’d bring each cup of food over to show me before dumping it in Winston’s bowl, proud that he had figured out how to scoop it himself. I could hear he was doing a great job, and I hadn’t heard any pieces fall on the floor. After a few rounds of this, I figured the bowl was probably full enough, so I told him to do his last scoop, and then put it away. He dumped the last cup in, and then I could hear him rustling around with the food in the bowl. He hadn’t solicited my attention for a while, never a good sign, so I jelly-rolled off the couch to see what was up.
There is a heat register on the floor near where we keep the food and water bowls, and Carter had pulled off the cover and dumped the majority of the contents of Winston’s food bowl into the vent tube. He pointed at it and said proudly, “Food in hole!” At first I was terrified, picturing food rolling through miles of HVAC in our house, blowing the smell of dog food through the registers every time the heat kicked on. In my best attempt to not scare Carter, but to let him know the seriousness of the offense, I said through clenched teeth, “Nooooo, Carter. We don’t put food in this hole.” He could see in my face that I was not happy and slowly backed away to show he wouldn’t try it again.
I assessed the damage and realized that luckily the vent tube took a pretty sharp horizontal turn shortly past the opening, so I was able to scoop out most, if not all of the food (and a lot of dust bunnies) without too much trouble. With my back turned to Carter, all I could do was smile and know that this wouldn’t be the last time Carter would find a way to anger, surprise, and tickle me with his creative explorations.
Thursday, March 27, 2008
Thursday, March 20, 2008
Secrets
Have you heard of PostSecret? It started out as a guy's project, and has evolved into a few books, a website, and videos, all of people's secrets. The basic idea is for people to write their secrets on a postcard (usually accompanied by some form of artwork) and send it to this guy who then publishes much of what he receives. I find something so intriguing about the whole thing. Every Sunday new secrets are posted on the website, and I can't wait to see the new postcards. It somehow feels voyeuristic and liberating and comforting, all at the same time. For me I think part of the attraction is reading others' secrets and knowing I don't have half as much I'm holding in. The other part is that many of their secrets are my secrets, and it's somehow reassuring to feel like other people think the same things I do, if only in secret.
As much as I think we all try to be true to ourselves and honest with others, there's always a small little piece of us that we shield, protect, and hide from the outside world with the fear that others will judge us because of it. Recently I have made an effort to be especially truthful and forthright with what I'm thinking and what I believe, without editing due to the potential reaction of others. In my postings on here I've tried to express my true feelings and thoughts to the extent that I can without infringing on others' right to privacy (mainly Mark's).
But I know deep down that there are many things I think and feel that never get expressed, even to myself. Things that I don't even write in my private diary out of fear that writing them will make them real, and that when I die, people will read my diary and gasp. Isn't that silly? It's just ink on paper, words on a page. And yet, that can have so much power, enough to prevent me from writing.
Experience has taught me that almost always secrets and deep-down thoughts sound worse in my head than they do aloud, and that people are much more forgiving than I give them credit for. Expressing those thoughts rarely is regretted, and is usually quite liberating, but I still have a clear boundary of what I am willing to say, willing to write, willing to admit to. So for now, I will enjoy my guilty pleasure of reading other people's secrets and know I'm not the only one out there with thoughts that remain secrets.
As much as I think we all try to be true to ourselves and honest with others, there's always a small little piece of us that we shield, protect, and hide from the outside world with the fear that others will judge us because of it. Recently I have made an effort to be especially truthful and forthright with what I'm thinking and what I believe, without editing due to the potential reaction of others. In my postings on here I've tried to express my true feelings and thoughts to the extent that I can without infringing on others' right to privacy (mainly Mark's).
But I know deep down that there are many things I think and feel that never get expressed, even to myself. Things that I don't even write in my private diary out of fear that writing them will make them real, and that when I die, people will read my diary and gasp. Isn't that silly? It's just ink on paper, words on a page. And yet, that can have so much power, enough to prevent me from writing.
Experience has taught me that almost always secrets and deep-down thoughts sound worse in my head than they do aloud, and that people are much more forgiving than I give them credit for. Expressing those thoughts rarely is regretted, and is usually quite liberating, but I still have a clear boundary of what I am willing to say, willing to write, willing to admit to. So for now, I will enjoy my guilty pleasure of reading other people's secrets and know I'm not the only one out there with thoughts that remain secrets.
Tuesday, March 11, 2008
Nesting
Nesting has set in. It’s one of those quirky things that happens to pregnant ladies near the end of their pregnancies where cleaning and tidying and preparing become the sole mission. There aren’t too many things left that we humans feel and can so clearly identify as instinct, but this is one of them.
Yesterday I found myself wanting to rearrange our bedroom and vacuum under the bed. Cleaning the fridge also seems to be at the top of my to do list. And this weekend I spontaneously decided to scrub the bathtub, something I despise doing. Yep, there must be a baby on the way.
I’ve also noticed that lately I’ve spent an inordinate amount of time thinking about how I can rearrange the clothes in the dressers in Carter’s room (which also hold all my clothes) to accommodate the baby’s things. I still have at least 5 weeks until I’ll be full term (and 8 until I’m due) but somehow the need to have clothes in the proper drawers is paramount to all else.
I’m sure I had this same compulsion when Carter was on the way, but it was not as noticeable because I didn’t work the last month before he came, and it felt like something to do to fill the time. There was also the excitement of having all new stuff, whereas this time it’s just gathering the same things together. I just had more time the first time around, so I wasn’t sacrificing some of the essentials to get things done. Last night I had a hard time pulling myself away from vacuuming to eat dinner. But I can just feel my inner instinct screaming, “There’s so little time and so much to do. You’ll never get it all done!” The funny thing is, it’s not a feeling of panic, but more like an incredible burst of energy (a rarity at this stage) that helps to accomplish the impossible.
Interestingly, the house is nowhere near clean. The kitchen floor is a disaster, and the downstairs bathroom hasn’t been cleaned in weeks. There’s only a small niche of tasks that seem to fall into the, “need to get done NOW” category, and they all somehow relate to our new arrival. The baby won’t be laying on the kitchen floor (hopefully) so there’s no reason to clean it, right?
I actually feel that, with a few small exceptions, we’re pretty ready for this baby. At least as far as chores and stuff goes. Now, our mental state and sleep reserves, well, that’s an entirely different matter.
Yesterday I found myself wanting to rearrange our bedroom and vacuum under the bed. Cleaning the fridge also seems to be at the top of my to do list. And this weekend I spontaneously decided to scrub the bathtub, something I despise doing. Yep, there must be a baby on the way.
I’ve also noticed that lately I’ve spent an inordinate amount of time thinking about how I can rearrange the clothes in the dressers in Carter’s room (which also hold all my clothes) to accommodate the baby’s things. I still have at least 5 weeks until I’ll be full term (and 8 until I’m due) but somehow the need to have clothes in the proper drawers is paramount to all else.
I’m sure I had this same compulsion when Carter was on the way, but it was not as noticeable because I didn’t work the last month before he came, and it felt like something to do to fill the time. There was also the excitement of having all new stuff, whereas this time it’s just gathering the same things together. I just had more time the first time around, so I wasn’t sacrificing some of the essentials to get things done. Last night I had a hard time pulling myself away from vacuuming to eat dinner. But I can just feel my inner instinct screaming, “There’s so little time and so much to do. You’ll never get it all done!” The funny thing is, it’s not a feeling of panic, but more like an incredible burst of energy (a rarity at this stage) that helps to accomplish the impossible.
Interestingly, the house is nowhere near clean. The kitchen floor is a disaster, and the downstairs bathroom hasn’t been cleaned in weeks. There’s only a small niche of tasks that seem to fall into the, “need to get done NOW” category, and they all somehow relate to our new arrival. The baby won’t be laying on the kitchen floor (hopefully) so there’s no reason to clean it, right?
I actually feel that, with a few small exceptions, we’re pretty ready for this baby. At least as far as chores and stuff goes. Now, our mental state and sleep reserves, well, that’s an entirely different matter.
Friday, March 7, 2008
Slow day at work
Today is Friday, a day where there are often not many people in my department here, and I frequently have my office to myself. I had one meeting this morning, and now I only have really long term projects to work on. I'm having a bit of a hard time getting motivated, so I'm taking a quick minute to share some fun pictures with you. I took them with something called Photobooth on my Mac, so the resolution isn't great, but not bad for a computer camera.
This first one is one Carter and I took a few weeks ago. I love how angelic and child-like he looks. I can't believe this beautiful boy is my son.
I finally got around to taking a belly picture today. As you can see, I'm standing in front of my office door, and I was so afraid someone was going to walk by and wonder what I was doing. I'm now a little over 31 weeks along. People keep telling me how small I look, but I certainly don't feel it. I want to tell them to try lugging around the extra 30 pounds I've put on, most of which tries to tip me over all day. And yes, that is a temporary outty belly button you see.
Just a silly picture. This is how Fridays alone in my office makes me feel!
This one is to remind you that I haven't gone completely crazy. I can look normal if need be.
Okay, seriously. I've got to get back to work. No more goofing around. Only one and a half hours left.
This first one is one Carter and I took a few weeks ago. I love how angelic and child-like he looks. I can't believe this beautiful boy is my son.
I finally got around to taking a belly picture today. As you can see, I'm standing in front of my office door, and I was so afraid someone was going to walk by and wonder what I was doing. I'm now a little over 31 weeks along. People keep telling me how small I look, but I certainly don't feel it. I want to tell them to try lugging around the extra 30 pounds I've put on, most of which tries to tip me over all day. And yes, that is a temporary outty belly button you see.
Just a silly picture. This is how Fridays alone in my office makes me feel!
This one is to remind you that I haven't gone completely crazy. I can look normal if need be.
Okay, seriously. I've got to get back to work. No more goofing around. Only one and a half hours left.
Saturday, March 1, 2008
Life's choices
I just finished watching a special on MTV about a guy who documented his year traveling around the world. He gave up his high-paying job in NYC and spent $20,000 in 23 countries over 50 weeks. I spent a bit of my day getting out newborn baby clothes and washing burp clothes for our upcoming family addition.
In this moment I find myself melancholy, not for the path I've chosen and regret, but for not being able to live two simultaneous lives that cannot coexist. Travel has always been a huge love of mine, and I look back at my times out of the country with only the fondest memories. But I think of my little boy sleeping soundly in the next room, and my heart melts.
Everyone always tells you that life is tough; that it's full of choices; that you can't have everything. I know this, and yet I still wish I could fulfill my dichotomous needs of having a family and traveling the world. I know that kids and a husband don't automatically mean I can't have some adventures abroad, that there are ways to make it happen, but traveling single with loose plans and no one to answer to don't fit in that picture.
Do I wish I had done more before I got married and had kids? I really don't think so. I love the life I've chosen and the family that completes me. But I find myself looking around at this moment, and noticing all the stuff we have, and how complicated things are at times. Have I gotten too comfortable in the suburban, family-years, 3-car owning lifestyle that is absent in the presence of travel? I have glimpses into a fantasy of getting rid of most of our things, living out of a little rental apartment, and having the freedom of being mobile again. After looking into selling our house and finding out what a mistake that would be, we are anything but in a position to uproot right now.
Part of my mental state right now, I'm sure, is due to the fact that I'm 30 weeks pregnant and extremely limited in what I can do. I'm not even supposed to fly on a plane beginning in a few weeks, much less travel around the world, and that simple restriction makes it look all the more appealing.
Perhaps what I need to focus on is not what I wish for that I can't have, but what little things I can do now that will at least partially satiate my need for experiencing something new and different, something beyond white-skinned, English-speaking, hamburger-eating Americans. A short, inexpensive trip to Mexico or the Caribbean may even do it for me. I'll keep that as food for thought for now.
Meanwhile, I will enjoy the choices I have made and recognize all that I would be missing out on if I were off traveling: A wonderful husband and a little boy who is the light of my world. These are not small things to be thankful for.
In this moment I find myself melancholy, not for the path I've chosen and regret, but for not being able to live two simultaneous lives that cannot coexist. Travel has always been a huge love of mine, and I look back at my times out of the country with only the fondest memories. But I think of my little boy sleeping soundly in the next room, and my heart melts.
Everyone always tells you that life is tough; that it's full of choices; that you can't have everything. I know this, and yet I still wish I could fulfill my dichotomous needs of having a family and traveling the world. I know that kids and a husband don't automatically mean I can't have some adventures abroad, that there are ways to make it happen, but traveling single with loose plans and no one to answer to don't fit in that picture.
Do I wish I had done more before I got married and had kids? I really don't think so. I love the life I've chosen and the family that completes me. But I find myself looking around at this moment, and noticing all the stuff we have, and how complicated things are at times. Have I gotten too comfortable in the suburban, family-years, 3-car owning lifestyle that is absent in the presence of travel? I have glimpses into a fantasy of getting rid of most of our things, living out of a little rental apartment, and having the freedom of being mobile again. After looking into selling our house and finding out what a mistake that would be, we are anything but in a position to uproot right now.
Part of my mental state right now, I'm sure, is due to the fact that I'm 30 weeks pregnant and extremely limited in what I can do. I'm not even supposed to fly on a plane beginning in a few weeks, much less travel around the world, and that simple restriction makes it look all the more appealing.
Perhaps what I need to focus on is not what I wish for that I can't have, but what little things I can do now that will at least partially satiate my need for experiencing something new and different, something beyond white-skinned, English-speaking, hamburger-eating Americans. A short, inexpensive trip to Mexico or the Caribbean may even do it for me. I'll keep that as food for thought for now.
Meanwhile, I will enjoy the choices I have made and recognize all that I would be missing out on if I were off traveling: A wonderful husband and a little boy who is the light of my world. These are not small things to be thankful for.
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