Tonight, I hated myself.
I have a closet in the bedroom that I share with Bruce. About 3/4 of the closet is my stuff, but there isn't enough room for my stuff even with that much space. What I really need are (big enough) shelves or drawers, because there is plenty of room for the hanging clothes, but the folded stuff- T-shirts, yoga pants, jeans- that's usually a crazy mess. Over the last couple of months, however, the crazy mess has gotten out of control. The closet may technically be a walk-in- even completely empty there's room to take about one step in- but lately, all I can do is peer in from the closet doorway and hope I can find what I need. There is a pile of clothes mixed with other things that is about as high as my hip on the floor in the closet, and it makes the closet almost entirely unusable.
This condition was born of good intentions. I had wanted to sift through my closet, reorganize and weed out and make everything pretty and accessible. I wanted to remove my maternity clothes and bring back my old wardrobe, and I wanted to be able to find everything. That required pulling a large amount of stuff out, off the shelves, off the floor, off the hangers. I got halfway through and got tired, so I shoved it all back in with the intention of finishing up another day.
And I never did.
I have hated the way my closet looks. I hate the lack of functionality. I hate that I wear the same five outfits every week, because it's what I can reach and find. I hate that there are things buried in there that I have forgotten I own, things I would find useful.
Last week I was determined to fix it, to clean it up for good. Bruce has been on a kick of reducing our stuff lately, and fixing the house up in general, hanging pictures and packing up books we've read and giving stuff to Goodwill. Inspired by his example and feeling continually ashamed of my closet, I pulled everything out of the closet and into a pile on my bedroom floor, thinking that if I could see it, I could make a plan of how to deal with it.
It sat on my bedroom floor for a week and a half, untouched, just getting in the way of my scale and dirty clothes hamper.
The ladies who come clean the house every two weeks are coming tomorrow, and it was unthinkable to leave it there for them. We don't pay them to organize my clothing; we pay them to clean the floors and bathrooms.
Rather than face the pile, I threw it all back into the closet.
I hated myself when I was doing it. Every armful of clothes I dumped into the shadows of my closet floor whispered my failure, my inability to take care of even the smallest things at home. My inability to hold it together when I am working and the rest of my family carries on without me, my failure to be useful for my family beyond my paycheck.
It was especially reproachful in considering the hour and a half my wonderful husband had just spent cleaning his parts of the room, while I sat and looked at a computer screen. As if I don't do enough of that at work, but somehow it was the only thing I could make myself do this evening, even as my daughters were bathed and dressed for bed and had stories read to them and fell asleep. If there were a time-lapse video of my evening, it would be Bruce and the girls swirling around me, while I sit on my bed behind a laptop, barely moving.
I barely move a lot these days, metaphorically speaking.
I don't know when I'll be able to deal with the closet. It seemed so symbolic, the packing away of mess behind a door, leaving a tidy exterior. I look like I have it together. I look like a good parent, like a provider, like someone "having it all" in the parlance of the feminism I was raised on.
I know the mess waits for me, even as the door is closed, though. It's not just that I don't know when I'll get to it. It's more that I don't know how to deal with it. In some ways, it's just about folding the clothes and finding a place for them. But the the folding overwhelms me. The finding the place for them overwhelms me. I just don't know how to manage it. I don't know how to unpack it, organize it, make it useful again. I just don't know how.
Showing posts with label The Long Dark Teatime of the Soul. Show all posts
Showing posts with label The Long Dark Teatime of the Soul. Show all posts
Thursday, August 13, 2009
Friday, July 24, 2009
The First Week Back
It felt strange to walk in after all these weeks, and see that everything was how I left it.
My big desk calendar was still on February. My cartoon-a-day calendar was on March 3. The chill of those days was long forgotten as I could feel the summer morning sun through the window, already hot. My last two-liter of Publix diet ginger ale, the soda that I was obsessed with in the last days, sits half drunk and probably mostly flat where I left it, and the large plastic green cup I used to sip it from still next to it on my rubber coaster. My pens still in the same place, unused legal pads stacked neatly on one corner of my desk.
I have been back since I had Phoebe, of course. I was in to visit Bruce, and take advantage of the printer (mine is kaput at home right now). I checked my mail and worked with Bruce and his secretary to submit our applications for admission to the Georgia bar. It's not as though I haven't darkened the door here in 4 months.
And yet it all felt strange, like an item of clothing that has shrunk in the wash and no longer fits quite right. It was different, for sure. The same- my same stuff, arranged in my same way- but I had grown out of it, or beyond it, or just different and away from it.
And there was the new stuff too- the new black bag that at a passing glance could look like a large tote bag, and its accompanying square-ish cooler bag. You wouldn't know what those were for. You'd think it was a tote for books, or files, or even a large handbag. You'd think the cooler bag was a lunch. Instead, I lock the door three times a day and bottle up motherhood, using the horribly undignified machinery from the black-bag-that-is-not-a-tote. I pack it in little bottles and ice them in the cooler bag and hope they are enough for tomorrow and worry when it seems like less than yesterday, less than this morning, less than.
Bruce doesn't call often when he has the kids. I assume they are busy; I assume they are having fun. I surf the internet. I check Facebook, annoyed when there are no new status updates from the previous ten minutes when I checked it last. I surf through my favorite blogs, news sites, parenting sites. I get sleepy and think how ridiculous I must look to anyone walking by, my eyes closed, face dipping forward when microsleep overtakes me. If any of my plants had been bodysnatchers, I would have been a goner.
I count down till lunch. Then I count down until I can leave. I don't talk to anyone unless I get up to make yet another unwanted cup of coffee. It helps me get out of my office, anyway.
Economic conditions mean that I have very little to do, and likely won’t have much for awhile. I set myself tasks to do every day, which I sometimes finish. Mostly these are personal tasks, like making Caetlin’s doctor’s appointment or calling the bank about a disputed charge on my debit card. Sometimes there is a tiny smidge of work, that I usually procrastinate. When I only have one thing to do, it’s hard, for me anyway, to make myself do that one thing, even though my conscience would be clear about all the web surfing if I just went ahead and did it.
Phoebe seems completely fine with me being gone most of the time. It turns out she is a very flexible baby, able to roll with just about anything, boob, bottle, mom, dad, nanny. In some ways that makes it easier, and in some ways that makes it harder. I wish she would seem to need me a little more, but I am glad for Bruce and the nanny that she is still happy. I miss her face, her ready smiles, her faux-hawk hair. Her little voice cooing and squealing at me. I drink in when Bruce tells me about something new she has done that day, like starting to enjoy playing in her Exersaucer or getting up on hands and knees like she's almost ready to crawl. But I also hate it, hate missing it, feel like a fraud for not being there.
It would be better if I had something to do. What's that old saying? "Idle hands are the devil's workshop?" For me, they are depression and inadequacy's workshop. I am not conflicted about being at work. If I had a choice before, when I went back to work with Caetlin, I most assuredly do not now. Plus I have made my peace with the fact that I like to work and don't really want to stay home with the kids, unless Bruce could do it too and we could have lots of help. (I need us to be independently wealthy, apparently.) I'm not in the same place at all that had me gaining 20 pounds because I was so unhappy about leaving my kid when I went back after Caetlin. Three years have taught me that my kids will be smart, happy and healthy even as I go off to work every day. That helps a lot.
So I go, and I sit behind my desk and surf the internet, visiting the same sites over and over, feeling like my behind is growing into my chair. I smile at people in the hall, and field well-meaning inquiries about the baby. I collect my paycheck.
Here's hoping things pick up soon, for the sake of my hours (because the pressure to work hasn't abated and in fact has grown stronger since Bruce's layoff), but mostly for my sake. Because I need something to help me grow back into this role of a working mom. Emphasis on the working.
My big desk calendar was still on February. My cartoon-a-day calendar was on March 3. The chill of those days was long forgotten as I could feel the summer morning sun through the window, already hot. My last two-liter of Publix diet ginger ale, the soda that I was obsessed with in the last days, sits half drunk and probably mostly flat where I left it, and the large plastic green cup I used to sip it from still next to it on my rubber coaster. My pens still in the same place, unused legal pads stacked neatly on one corner of my desk.
I have been back since I had Phoebe, of course. I was in to visit Bruce, and take advantage of the printer (mine is kaput at home right now). I checked my mail and worked with Bruce and his secretary to submit our applications for admission to the Georgia bar. It's not as though I haven't darkened the door here in 4 months.
And yet it all felt strange, like an item of clothing that has shrunk in the wash and no longer fits quite right. It was different, for sure. The same- my same stuff, arranged in my same way- but I had grown out of it, or beyond it, or just different and away from it.
And there was the new stuff too- the new black bag that at a passing glance could look like a large tote bag, and its accompanying square-ish cooler bag. You wouldn't know what those were for. You'd think it was a tote for books, or files, or even a large handbag. You'd think the cooler bag was a lunch. Instead, I lock the door three times a day and bottle up motherhood, using the horribly undignified machinery from the black-bag-that-is-not-a-tote. I pack it in little bottles and ice them in the cooler bag and hope they are enough for tomorrow and worry when it seems like less than yesterday, less than this morning, less than.
Bruce doesn't call often when he has the kids. I assume they are busy; I assume they are having fun. I surf the internet. I check Facebook, annoyed when there are no new status updates from the previous ten minutes when I checked it last. I surf through my favorite blogs, news sites, parenting sites. I get sleepy and think how ridiculous I must look to anyone walking by, my eyes closed, face dipping forward when microsleep overtakes me. If any of my plants had been bodysnatchers, I would have been a goner.
I count down till lunch. Then I count down until I can leave. I don't talk to anyone unless I get up to make yet another unwanted cup of coffee. It helps me get out of my office, anyway.
Economic conditions mean that I have very little to do, and likely won’t have much for awhile. I set myself tasks to do every day, which I sometimes finish. Mostly these are personal tasks, like making Caetlin’s doctor’s appointment or calling the bank about a disputed charge on my debit card. Sometimes there is a tiny smidge of work, that I usually procrastinate. When I only have one thing to do, it’s hard, for me anyway, to make myself do that one thing, even though my conscience would be clear about all the web surfing if I just went ahead and did it.
Phoebe seems completely fine with me being gone most of the time. It turns out she is a very flexible baby, able to roll with just about anything, boob, bottle, mom, dad, nanny. In some ways that makes it easier, and in some ways that makes it harder. I wish she would seem to need me a little more, but I am glad for Bruce and the nanny that she is still happy. I miss her face, her ready smiles, her faux-hawk hair. Her little voice cooing and squealing at me. I drink in when Bruce tells me about something new she has done that day, like starting to enjoy playing in her Exersaucer or getting up on hands and knees like she's almost ready to crawl. But I also hate it, hate missing it, feel like a fraud for not being there.
It would be better if I had something to do. What's that old saying? "Idle hands are the devil's workshop?" For me, they are depression and inadequacy's workshop. I am not conflicted about being at work. If I had a choice before, when I went back to work with Caetlin, I most assuredly do not now. Plus I have made my peace with the fact that I like to work and don't really want to stay home with the kids, unless Bruce could do it too and we could have lots of help. (I need us to be independently wealthy, apparently.) I'm not in the same place at all that had me gaining 20 pounds because I was so unhappy about leaving my kid when I went back after Caetlin. Three years have taught me that my kids will be smart, happy and healthy even as I go off to work every day. That helps a lot.
So I go, and I sit behind my desk and surf the internet, visiting the same sites over and over, feeling like my behind is growing into my chair. I smile at people in the hall, and field well-meaning inquiries about the baby. I collect my paycheck.
Here's hoping things pick up soon, for the sake of my hours (because the pressure to work hasn't abated and in fact has grown stronger since Bruce's layoff), but mostly for my sake. Because I need something to help me grow back into this role of a working mom. Emphasis on the working.
Sunday, July 19, 2009
Tomorrow Is the Day
So...I go back to work tomorrow. I wish I had another month. Or 6. Or 12. It's been especially nice that Bruce has been home with us lately, though unfortunately it was a result of his being laid off.
Phoebe and I are not really separate beings at this point. I mean, of course I see and understand that we are two people, but she doesn't get that yet. And I haven't worked at all to emphasize it. Anytime she cries and I can't soothe her any other way, she gets the breast. My body is hers; I'm sure she sees me as a large extension of herself. I am her hands, her feet, her eyes, her food. I have had to do everything, be everything for her. This was true for Caetlin as well, but less so, in part because I went back to work when she was so much younger than Phoebe, and in part because Phoebe is so much more enamored of me. Caetlin loved me, but Phoebe loooooves me. I calm her more easily than Bruce when she cries (and not just with my boobs!), and she just generally usually seems happier with me.
So, tomorrow will be traumatic for her. And for me. It's not that I think she won't be cared for- she totally will. She'll be with our nanny and Bruce, and she'll be perfectly fine. But she'll miss me. And I will miss her. Every time I am away from her for any period of time, I miss her, like she's a fifth appendage. Even though sometimes I resent being so tied to her, and her to me, when I'm untethered from her I also feel unmoored. I worry for her. I worry that she won't understand that Mommy is coming back, and will only know that she wants me and I'm not there.
And then there is the breastfeeding and pumping thing. I am so nervous that she won't continue to nurse. That is what Caetlin did when I went back to work, and though the circumstances are somewhat different here (Caetlin never nursed without a nipple shield and therefore a bottle was much easier for her, plus she was never an avid nurser like Phoebe anyway), I worry. I want to nurse in the mornings and evenings and pump during the day, rather than pumping everything. Down that road lies madness, as I well know; I pumped for 3 more months with Caetlin after she stopped nursing. Despite my frantic efforts, I never pumped enough for Caetlin to have only breast milk, so after my store of frozen milk went away, I was only able to pump about 40% of the milk she needed as she grew. And to eke out that 40%, I was pumping up to 8 times a day, wrecking my productivity and my emotional state.
My big concern about Phoebe is that she has grown so aware, so interested in the world around her, that she will prefer the bottle because it will be easier to look around while she eats. I know I just need to relax and accept what comes, but it feels like such a personal rejection when the babe refuses to nurse. Such a referendum on my mothering. Or on my decision to keep working (not like I have a choice now, but I have had in the past). At times like those, the internet criticisms of "Why did you have kids if you aren't going to raise them yourself?" haunt me the most.
Anyway, going back is not just about these big things, of worrying that I won't be able to continue nursing Phoebe and fearing the pain of separation from her. It's the small things too- having to get up with an alarm in the morning, instead of waking up with the kids. Not being able to wear my comfortable, machine washable clothing, and generally putting less effort into my appearance (I'm always clean, but I don't remember the last time I put on full makeup, and I stress far less about a spot on my shirt). Having to plan my days more carefully, thinking about kids' mealtimes and pumping and getting to the gym and what deadlines will I have at work, when the past four-plus months have just been one unbroken, underscheduled stretch.
And then there is the frustration of work, of trying to scratch out a place for myself in a department that is indifferent to my efforts. The worry about Bruce, and whether and when and where he will find something. Tomorrow will be the first day in over 4 years that Bruce and I have not worked together (barring my maternity leave with Caetlin, when one of us is sick, etc.). And there is the added pressure of being the breadwinner. Though Bruce is continuing to receive a paycheck, that will run out faster than I can even think about it. It makes me scared for my job, scared for us, even though the numbers crunch just fine on only my salary. I don't like the pressure of carrying the family, not in this economy, in my line of work.
Anyway, I can't stop tomorrow from coming, and it will bring what it will bring. I know from experience that Phoebe will be just fine in the long run. I went back to work much sooner with Caetlin than I have with Phoebe (and can I say just how incomprehensibly short 12 weeks seemed with Phoebe, to the point that I have no idea how I went back when Caetlin was so incredibly young? My hat is off to anyone who can or must go back to work any sooner than that, as I know many women are required to do), and she's a perfectly fine and happy and well-adjusted almost-three-year-old. And she was a perfectly fine and happy and well-adjusted baby after I went back. We will all get used to our new normal, probably pretty quickly. If I keep things in perspective, I know it is not the end of the world, not the end of our relationship, not a sign of poor parenting. It's just...different. Different is not bad. Just different.
So off we go into the great unknown. How will we cope with the changes? I hope better than I did when I went back to work when Caetlin was a baby. At least this time there is not a convenient chocolate-filled holiday nearby, so I hopefully won't put on 20 pounds as a result of being so depressed about going back. That time it was a poorly timed trip to Target- a few weeks before I went back to work, I bought a huge amount of half priced candy that consoled me through the first couple months back at work. Consoled me right into larger sized clothing, too. I didn't lose that weight until about a year ago. Let's hope I can avoid that this time!
In other news, we have spent the last two weeks at the beach, and had a fantastic time. Caetlin, especially, had a wonderful time in the pool and the ocean (Gulf of Mexico, really). She started the vacation in my grandmother's pool with floaties on both arms and a pink inflatable ring around her middle, and she had to be coaxed away from the steps into Bruce's arms. By the end of the two weeks, she was going completely underwater while holding her breath, without her ring (her floaties had been long since discarded). Seeing her gain so much confidence in the water has been really great. I think if we had been there another week, she would have been swimming, as often as she was in the pool. The kid was more or less in her swimsuit from morning until night; we had to pry her out of it. And she's been pretending to be swimming all day today, and asking to go to the pool as well. Bruce and I are both fans of the water (something I remembered about myself when I spent so much time in the pool with Caetlin), so it's no surprise that Caetlin loved swimming so much. I can't wait to get her some lessons so she can really get moving.
Also, Phoebe had rice cereal for the first time today, and loved it. She sucked down spoonful after spoonful and consumed in the neighborhood of a quarter of a cup. She quickly got into the groove of opening her mouth for the spoon. Though she sucked on the spoon, which made a big mess, she clearly loved the whole eating experience. She even started crying and fussing between spoonfuls, because I wasn't pouring it into her fast enough. It was hilarious and awesome and so much fun. When we were done, her little belly was all pooched out and full, and she was basically ready to pass out. After a bath and a short nursing session, she crashed hard (this was after a 2 and a half hour nap this afternoon, which might be the longest nap she's ever taken- girl is sleep deprived and then some from our vacation). I'll look forward to giving it to her again tomorrow. It's something to look forward to about tomorrow anyway.
Phoebe and I are not really separate beings at this point. I mean, of course I see and understand that we are two people, but she doesn't get that yet. And I haven't worked at all to emphasize it. Anytime she cries and I can't soothe her any other way, she gets the breast. My body is hers; I'm sure she sees me as a large extension of herself. I am her hands, her feet, her eyes, her food. I have had to do everything, be everything for her. This was true for Caetlin as well, but less so, in part because I went back to work when she was so much younger than Phoebe, and in part because Phoebe is so much more enamored of me. Caetlin loved me, but Phoebe loooooves me. I calm her more easily than Bruce when she cries (and not just with my boobs!), and she just generally usually seems happier with me.
So, tomorrow will be traumatic for her. And for me. It's not that I think she won't be cared for- she totally will. She'll be with our nanny and Bruce, and she'll be perfectly fine. But she'll miss me. And I will miss her. Every time I am away from her for any period of time, I miss her, like she's a fifth appendage. Even though sometimes I resent being so tied to her, and her to me, when I'm untethered from her I also feel unmoored. I worry for her. I worry that she won't understand that Mommy is coming back, and will only know that she wants me and I'm not there.
And then there is the breastfeeding and pumping thing. I am so nervous that she won't continue to nurse. That is what Caetlin did when I went back to work, and though the circumstances are somewhat different here (Caetlin never nursed without a nipple shield and therefore a bottle was much easier for her, plus she was never an avid nurser like Phoebe anyway), I worry. I want to nurse in the mornings and evenings and pump during the day, rather than pumping everything. Down that road lies madness, as I well know; I pumped for 3 more months with Caetlin after she stopped nursing. Despite my frantic efforts, I never pumped enough for Caetlin to have only breast milk, so after my store of frozen milk went away, I was only able to pump about 40% of the milk she needed as she grew. And to eke out that 40%, I was pumping up to 8 times a day, wrecking my productivity and my emotional state.
My big concern about Phoebe is that she has grown so aware, so interested in the world around her, that she will prefer the bottle because it will be easier to look around while she eats. I know I just need to relax and accept what comes, but it feels like such a personal rejection when the babe refuses to nurse. Such a referendum on my mothering. Or on my decision to keep working (not like I have a choice now, but I have had in the past). At times like those, the internet criticisms of "Why did you have kids if you aren't going to raise them yourself?" haunt me the most.
Anyway, going back is not just about these big things, of worrying that I won't be able to continue nursing Phoebe and fearing the pain of separation from her. It's the small things too- having to get up with an alarm in the morning, instead of waking up with the kids. Not being able to wear my comfortable, machine washable clothing, and generally putting less effort into my appearance (I'm always clean, but I don't remember the last time I put on full makeup, and I stress far less about a spot on my shirt). Having to plan my days more carefully, thinking about kids' mealtimes and pumping and getting to the gym and what deadlines will I have at work, when the past four-plus months have just been one unbroken, underscheduled stretch.
And then there is the frustration of work, of trying to scratch out a place for myself in a department that is indifferent to my efforts. The worry about Bruce, and whether and when and where he will find something. Tomorrow will be the first day in over 4 years that Bruce and I have not worked together (barring my maternity leave with Caetlin, when one of us is sick, etc.). And there is the added pressure of being the breadwinner. Though Bruce is continuing to receive a paycheck, that will run out faster than I can even think about it. It makes me scared for my job, scared for us, even though the numbers crunch just fine on only my salary. I don't like the pressure of carrying the family, not in this economy, in my line of work.
Anyway, I can't stop tomorrow from coming, and it will bring what it will bring. I know from experience that Phoebe will be just fine in the long run. I went back to work much sooner with Caetlin than I have with Phoebe (and can I say just how incomprehensibly short 12 weeks seemed with Phoebe, to the point that I have no idea how I went back when Caetlin was so incredibly young? My hat is off to anyone who can or must go back to work any sooner than that, as I know many women are required to do), and she's a perfectly fine and happy and well-adjusted almost-three-year-old. And she was a perfectly fine and happy and well-adjusted baby after I went back. We will all get used to our new normal, probably pretty quickly. If I keep things in perspective, I know it is not the end of the world, not the end of our relationship, not a sign of poor parenting. It's just...different. Different is not bad. Just different.
So off we go into the great unknown. How will we cope with the changes? I hope better than I did when I went back to work when Caetlin was a baby. At least this time there is not a convenient chocolate-filled holiday nearby, so I hopefully won't put on 20 pounds as a result of being so depressed about going back. That time it was a poorly timed trip to Target- a few weeks before I went back to work, I bought a huge amount of half priced candy that consoled me through the first couple months back at work. Consoled me right into larger sized clothing, too. I didn't lose that weight until about a year ago. Let's hope I can avoid that this time!
In other news, we have spent the last two weeks at the beach, and had a fantastic time. Caetlin, especially, had a wonderful time in the pool and the ocean (Gulf of Mexico, really). She started the vacation in my grandmother's pool with floaties on both arms and a pink inflatable ring around her middle, and she had to be coaxed away from the steps into Bruce's arms. By the end of the two weeks, she was going completely underwater while holding her breath, without her ring (her floaties had been long since discarded). Seeing her gain so much confidence in the water has been really great. I think if we had been there another week, she would have been swimming, as often as she was in the pool. The kid was more or less in her swimsuit from morning until night; we had to pry her out of it. And she's been pretending to be swimming all day today, and asking to go to the pool as well. Bruce and I are both fans of the water (something I remembered about myself when I spent so much time in the pool with Caetlin), so it's no surprise that Caetlin loved swimming so much. I can't wait to get her some lessons so she can really get moving.
Also, Phoebe had rice cereal for the first time today, and loved it. She sucked down spoonful after spoonful and consumed in the neighborhood of a quarter of a cup. She quickly got into the groove of opening her mouth for the spoon. Though she sucked on the spoon, which made a big mess, she clearly loved the whole eating experience. She even started crying and fussing between spoonfuls, because I wasn't pouring it into her fast enough. It was hilarious and awesome and so much fun. When we were done, her little belly was all pooched out and full, and she was basically ready to pass out. After a bath and a short nursing session, she crashed hard (this was after a 2 and a half hour nap this afternoon, which might be the longest nap she's ever taken- girl is sleep deprived and then some from our vacation). I'll look forward to giving it to her again tomorrow. It's something to look forward to about tomorrow anyway.
Tuesday, June 2, 2009
Yeah, It's Been Awhile
Life on maternity leave tends to kind of smooth out the edges of things. Days flow into each other, the weekdays versus the weekends stop having any particular meaning, and I only remembered what day of the week it was by what was on TV that particular night (made more difficult by the end of the regular TV programming). There was me, and Phoebe, and a steady stream of lunch dates with girlfriends, trips to the gym and the mall, and diapers and nursing and spit up and crying and napping. My left bicep is extremely buff from hauling her around in her carrier. Really, for awhile, that was the most notable thing going on. So it's been awhile since I've posted.
Yet time and life both march on, and Stuff has Happened around here that finally moved me to write.
First there was Memorial Day weekend, which started, memorably enough, with Bruce being laid off. Happy three day weekend!
Seriously, if you've been reading here for any length of time, you know we knew it was coming. All options have been exhausted, and there really is just no room for him. He is a man without a department, with a specialty that no one else in the firm does (any more), and almost non-existent billable hours for the year. It made zero economic sense to keep him, and the firm is a business. It really was no surprise. The separation details are pretty generous, though we will have to address circumstances with our nanny (more on that in a bit).
Saturday we took Caetlin to the Y, where we have recently become members. We have found that having kids makes a Y membership entirely more appealing, as they offer a ton of programs for the kid, plus babysitting that Phoebe is now old enough to start using as well as Caetlin. Also, the Buckhead Y has a kick-ass outdoor pool. We haven't been there yet, since we regularly go to the Ashford-Dunwoody Y, but I foresee some summertime fun there. Caetlin loves going to the babysitting there; she "has a good time with teachers and plays with new toys" as she puts it. (The having a good time with teachers part comes from us, to remind her how much she tends to like day care teachers.) She apparently tells the teachers how "Mommy and Daddy be riiiiight back." I'm glad to know she's confident in that fact.
After the Y was the park, since it wasn't raining yet, and then home for lunch and nap. Then a trip to an indoor playground for a very short visit and then to the mall for a "smoovie." Caetlin is a smoothie addict and then some, and often we need to get her the 20 ounce size, rather than the 12 ounce kids' size. Because otherwise she ends up drinking mine, and I don't like to share.
Anyway, it was a good day, the news from the day before notwithstanding. We've both been pretty calm regarding the layoff, mostly I think because we've been expecting it for so long. When the meeting was set earlier in the week, I kind of had a freaking out, hyperventilating "OMG OMG What are we gonna do???" kind of evening, but I was over it by the next day. There are some really good things coming out of it, I think, and frankly, it was time for that shoe to drop so we could deal with the reality rather than worrying about it.
Sunday, we set off for a new indoor playground, where we were meeting two ladies I work with and their respective children, plus a niece who was visiting. We broke out like this: one colleague and her husband brought their 6 year old daughter and their 3 year old son; one colleague brought her 8 month old daughter and 7 year old niece; and we had Phoebe and Caetlin. So everyone had someone to play with, and the babies sort of lumped together (kidding, actually, as the 8 month old had a good time in the crawlers area). We chatted and followed the kids around; we snacked on goldfish and pretzels and juice and water; and we discussed the relative bravery and/or gross motor development of each of the walking kids. Afterward we adjoined to Five Guys for burgers and fries, and watched the kids running around the plaza outside the restaurant. Spencer (the 3 year old) and Caetlin were super fast friends, clamoring to sit next to each other at lunch and hugging goodbye (seriously, is anything cuter than toddlers hugging? I think not). We all had such a great time that we decided to get together for bowling the next day.
I had a small misadventure, though, prior to all this idyll. We left without me getting any breakfast, in order to be on time. We had time to pull into a McDonald's, which we passed on the way, and waited behind a man in line who may never have encountered this weird thing called the McDonald's breakfast menu before. Or perhaps had never been in a drive-through before. Either way, there was dialogue between him and the drive-through worker. Impatient, I told Bruce to drive around and I would go in, figuring the line inside would be shorter as it often is. I walked into a madhouse. Let's say the line was not shorter inside, and when I walked out, the drive-through line had backed up too. Frustrated, pissed off at myself for having made a bad call, I got back in and told Bruce to drive on, since we were going to be late.
We drove to the place, and no one was there yet, so we decided to do our best to find a breakfast place (too bad we didn't see the Starbucks across the street until we went to that complex for lunch). After driving for a couple minutes, we found an Atlanta Bread Company, where we were headed until I saw the Burger King. BK will be faster, I reasoned. We got my food, Bruce got his large coffee, and we were on our way again, Caetlin and I happily sharing hash browns (actually, she got her own small order; remember what I said about not liking to share?). To get back the way we needed to be going, as we really were running late by now, Bruce had to make an illegal left turn. In so doing, and in swinging sharply around the median that tried to force us right, his too-tall-for-the-cupholder coffee overturned and spilled. All over the diaper bag. All over a lot of the junk on the floor of the car. All over me.
I started screaming and trying to hold my jeans leg away from my skin. That coffee was hot. As in scorching hot. As in heated by the interior of the sun hot. As in lawsuit hot.
Bruce pulled over as I sobbed my pain and unhappiness over being soaked in coffee. By the time he stopped the car and I hopped out, my jeans had cooled enough that I didn't need to strip down to my underwear on the side of the road. We moved on to the play place, me smelling like coffee. I headed for the bathroom to soak some of it out, but I smelled like everyone's favorite breakfast beverage all freaking day. My leg was slightly singed, on the order of a very slight sunburn, and it cleared up by the next day. (One of the moms was pretty late to the playground and when I told her that story, she was all, "You win. Your morning has been worse than mine.")
Anyway, we all met up again for bowling, and the kids had another awesome time. Caetlin and Spencer pushed their balls off one of those racks for kids (I had never seen them before and they are great!) and we all were grateful for the bumpers. When C and Spence got tired of bowling they ran around and around and around. Fortunately, early on Memorial Day, the alley was reasonably empty so they didn't annoy anyone. Anyone not related to them, anyway.
Afterward we all went to Willy's for burritos and quesadillas. We were a small pocket of chaos in the back of the restaurant, as we took over two booths plus all the surrounding area. The kids hugged goodbye again, and I heard from Spencer's mom that he told her his favorite part of the weekend was "playing with [his] new friend Caetlin!" Your heart could just melt.
This week was pretty quiet, but we did reach a milestone: we cleaned both cars out entirely and had them super-duper-detailed. The coffee incident caused an irritant that had only been slightly itching me to flare into a full-blown rash of need for clean vehicles. It took us several hours to clear all the junk and trash from the cars, and it took the detail folks several hours to clean them. They remain clean today, and I am determined to keep them that way.
I had a really great and interesting work conference this past weekend, and we've had many discussions about what to do regarding the nanny, but that will all have to wait, since I'm tired and need to pump (ugh) and sleep now. More later.
Yet time and life both march on, and Stuff has Happened around here that finally moved me to write.
First there was Memorial Day weekend, which started, memorably enough, with Bruce being laid off. Happy three day weekend!
Seriously, if you've been reading here for any length of time, you know we knew it was coming. All options have been exhausted, and there really is just no room for him. He is a man without a department, with a specialty that no one else in the firm does (any more), and almost non-existent billable hours for the year. It made zero economic sense to keep him, and the firm is a business. It really was no surprise. The separation details are pretty generous, though we will have to address circumstances with our nanny (more on that in a bit).
Saturday we took Caetlin to the Y, where we have recently become members. We have found that having kids makes a Y membership entirely more appealing, as they offer a ton of programs for the kid, plus babysitting that Phoebe is now old enough to start using as well as Caetlin. Also, the Buckhead Y has a kick-ass outdoor pool. We haven't been there yet, since we regularly go to the Ashford-Dunwoody Y, but I foresee some summertime fun there. Caetlin loves going to the babysitting there; she "has a good time with teachers and plays with new toys" as she puts it. (The having a good time with teachers part comes from us, to remind her how much she tends to like day care teachers.) She apparently tells the teachers how "Mommy and Daddy be riiiiight back." I'm glad to know she's confident in that fact.
After the Y was the park, since it wasn't raining yet, and then home for lunch and nap. Then a trip to an indoor playground for a very short visit and then to the mall for a "smoovie." Caetlin is a smoothie addict and then some, and often we need to get her the 20 ounce size, rather than the 12 ounce kids' size. Because otherwise she ends up drinking mine, and I don't like to share.
Anyway, it was a good day, the news from the day before notwithstanding. We've both been pretty calm regarding the layoff, mostly I think because we've been expecting it for so long. When the meeting was set earlier in the week, I kind of had a freaking out, hyperventilating "OMG OMG What are we gonna do???" kind of evening, but I was over it by the next day. There are some really good things coming out of it, I think, and frankly, it was time for that shoe to drop so we could deal with the reality rather than worrying about it.
Sunday, we set off for a new indoor playground, where we were meeting two ladies I work with and their respective children, plus a niece who was visiting. We broke out like this: one colleague and her husband brought their 6 year old daughter and their 3 year old son; one colleague brought her 8 month old daughter and 7 year old niece; and we had Phoebe and Caetlin. So everyone had someone to play with, and the babies sort of lumped together (kidding, actually, as the 8 month old had a good time in the crawlers area). We chatted and followed the kids around; we snacked on goldfish and pretzels and juice and water; and we discussed the relative bravery and/or gross motor development of each of the walking kids. Afterward we adjoined to Five Guys for burgers and fries, and watched the kids running around the plaza outside the restaurant. Spencer (the 3 year old) and Caetlin were super fast friends, clamoring to sit next to each other at lunch and hugging goodbye (seriously, is anything cuter than toddlers hugging? I think not). We all had such a great time that we decided to get together for bowling the next day.
I had a small misadventure, though, prior to all this idyll. We left without me getting any breakfast, in order to be on time. We had time to pull into a McDonald's, which we passed on the way, and waited behind a man in line who may never have encountered this weird thing called the McDonald's breakfast menu before. Or perhaps had never been in a drive-through before. Either way, there was dialogue between him and the drive-through worker. Impatient, I told Bruce to drive around and I would go in, figuring the line inside would be shorter as it often is. I walked into a madhouse. Let's say the line was not shorter inside, and when I walked out, the drive-through line had backed up too. Frustrated, pissed off at myself for having made a bad call, I got back in and told Bruce to drive on, since we were going to be late.
We drove to the place, and no one was there yet, so we decided to do our best to find a breakfast place (too bad we didn't see the Starbucks across the street until we went to that complex for lunch). After driving for a couple minutes, we found an Atlanta Bread Company, where we were headed until I saw the Burger King. BK will be faster, I reasoned. We got my food, Bruce got his large coffee, and we were on our way again, Caetlin and I happily sharing hash browns (actually, she got her own small order; remember what I said about not liking to share?). To get back the way we needed to be going, as we really were running late by now, Bruce had to make an illegal left turn. In so doing, and in swinging sharply around the median that tried to force us right, his too-tall-for-the-cupholder coffee overturned and spilled. All over the diaper bag. All over a lot of the junk on the floor of the car. All over me.
I started screaming and trying to hold my jeans leg away from my skin. That coffee was hot. As in scorching hot. As in heated by the interior of the sun hot. As in lawsuit hot.
Bruce pulled over as I sobbed my pain and unhappiness over being soaked in coffee. By the time he stopped the car and I hopped out, my jeans had cooled enough that I didn't need to strip down to my underwear on the side of the road. We moved on to the play place, me smelling like coffee. I headed for the bathroom to soak some of it out, but I smelled like everyone's favorite breakfast beverage all freaking day. My leg was slightly singed, on the order of a very slight sunburn, and it cleared up by the next day. (One of the moms was pretty late to the playground and when I told her that story, she was all, "You win. Your morning has been worse than mine.")
Anyway, we all met up again for bowling, and the kids had another awesome time. Caetlin and Spencer pushed their balls off one of those racks for kids (I had never seen them before and they are great!) and we all were grateful for the bumpers. When C and Spence got tired of bowling they ran around and around and around. Fortunately, early on Memorial Day, the alley was reasonably empty so they didn't annoy anyone. Anyone not related to them, anyway.
Afterward we all went to Willy's for burritos and quesadillas. We were a small pocket of chaos in the back of the restaurant, as we took over two booths plus all the surrounding area. The kids hugged goodbye again, and I heard from Spencer's mom that he told her his favorite part of the weekend was "playing with [his] new friend Caetlin!" Your heart could just melt.
This week was pretty quiet, but we did reach a milestone: we cleaned both cars out entirely and had them super-duper-detailed. The coffee incident caused an irritant that had only been slightly itching me to flare into a full-blown rash of need for clean vehicles. It took us several hours to clear all the junk and trash from the cars, and it took the detail folks several hours to clean them. They remain clean today, and I am determined to keep them that way.
I had a really great and interesting work conference this past weekend, and we've had many discussions about what to do regarding the nanny, but that will all have to wait, since I'm tired and need to pump (ugh) and sleep now. More later.
Friday, March 27, 2009
Update
We're not moving. When we told our landlord we were considering it, he dropped $250 off the monthly rent. That's not something we could pass up.
I am sad about the house. It was kind of an important emotional thing, since it seems like we haven't had much good going on around here lately, and in fact mostly have been horribly stressed and worried for the last 4 months or so. I had latched onto the new house as a place to spread out a little, mentally as well as physically. But moving wouldn't be the prudent thing, not when we have a much lower rent combined with none of the costs of moving- hiring someone to help with the furniture, the security deposit, etc.
So we're not moving. In more ways than one, it seems sometimes.
I am sad about the house. It was kind of an important emotional thing, since it seems like we haven't had much good going on around here lately, and in fact mostly have been horribly stressed and worried for the last 4 months or so. I had latched onto the new house as a place to spread out a little, mentally as well as physically. But moving wouldn't be the prudent thing, not when we have a much lower rent combined with none of the costs of moving- hiring someone to help with the furniture, the security deposit, etc.
So we're not moving. In more ways than one, it seems sometimes.
Friday, February 27, 2009
Insomnia
It's nearly 5 a.m. I've slept maybe an hour or 45 minutes between 2 and 3 a.m. And maybe another 30 minutes between 12:30 and 1 a.m.? Hard to tell. It hasn't been much, or good or deep sleep, though, that I can attest.
It's been like this, to one degree or another, for about 2 weeks. Some nights I get 4 hours. That hasn't actually happened for awhile, and I would be so incredibly grateful to get 4 hours at this point. Lately it's been more like what I described above: an hour here, half an hour there, plus lots of sleepy dozing and looking at the clock in between. There may be, in fact probably is, sleep happening there, but it's not the good and restful kind, the kind that assuages tired. It's the kind where you don't realize you've slept at all. And the tired just hangs on.
And I am tired. I can feel it in my bones, how tired I am. And I am sleepy too- at some point every night I nod off in front of the TV or computer or whatever book I am reading. And then wake up an hour later, ready to begin my horrible now-routine of doze, toss, turn, arrange pillows, try for change of scenery, doze on guest bed, doze over book or computer, drink the water I habitually keep next to the bed, and pee. I probably go to the toilet every 45 minutes these nights. I drink because I am bored and thirsty, the result of pregnancy and Sudafed. I get up to pee more or less for the same reasons. It gives me something to do.
I just somehow seem to have lost the knack for falling asleep and staying that way.
Google "pregnancy insomnia" and you get lots of burbling advice about managing heartburn, leg cramps, needing to go to the bathroom, and physical discomfort because of the baby belly. Sometimes they might also mention the anxiety of having a baby as a factor. But it doesn't seem like they mean what I'm going through when they talk about "taking a warm bath before bed" as a way to help ease into sleep.
Plus, it doesn't feel like those things are the problem. I'm not hugely uncomfortable- I mean, I am, but I have lived, and slept, with it before. I have thankfully been spared the leg cramps. And if I treated the heartburn before I went to sleep- back when I was actually getting sleep- it didn't bother me most nights, and most others a second swig of Maalox would take care of it. When I was able to sleep, I got up to go to the bathroom maybe twice a night. And I don't feel particularly anxious about things. I mean, yes, there is a huge amount of stressful things happening in my life right now, no question. But it's not as though I lie awake worrying about whether to fire the nanny (still a question) or what's happening with Bruce and Tokyo (answer: nothing, right now, which drives me crazy). I almost never think of these things in the middle of the night. Mostly I try to clear my head and think of nothing, trying to relax, though lately I have been tormented with various Wiggles songs that get stuck in my head.
I will say there is one source of anxiety that rears its scary, ugly head in the dark times before dawn. What if I will never sleep again? What if I have the baby but I don't ever get to dream again, or wake feeling rested, or even unrested but knowing I had been sleeping deeply before Segunda's cries woke me? What if this is my life from now on? Because I am reasonably convinced that this is pregnancy related in some form or fashion, most days I can shrug it off with a "this too shall pass" kind of resignation. Certainly it's not that hard to function during my activity limited days, though occasionally I worry about being sleepy on the drive to or from the doctor's office. But mostly I doze my way through the days more or less the same as I do the nights, never really falling asleep, usually being awakened by the phone ringing or email buzzing or children in the house or leaf blowers outside my window.
But at night, that's when I worry that things will never be "back to normal" in the sleep department. And I wonder how long I can be functional, how long can I be sane, under these circumstances. It's not a nice thing to contemplate.
I try all the tricks I've ever used: progressive relaxation, focusing on my breathing, clearing my head. Just lying still and keeping my eyes closed used to work at least half the time. Now I just drowse in a strange combination of bored and sleepy combined with a compulsion to look at the clock every five minutes. I've never not been able to sleep and I almost don't know how to behave.
I might have mentioned I'm off to the doctor again this morning, and I'm going to ask for something prescription to help me sleep. I have no idea what might be safe, but I need a good night's sleep, in the way that I need air and food right now. And I will try- assuming that regular sleep comes back into my life- never to take it for granted ever again.
Please pray for me. If you don't pray, please think good sleep filled thoughts for me. I need them. I need something, anyway.
It's been like this, to one degree or another, for about 2 weeks. Some nights I get 4 hours. That hasn't actually happened for awhile, and I would be so incredibly grateful to get 4 hours at this point. Lately it's been more like what I described above: an hour here, half an hour there, plus lots of sleepy dozing and looking at the clock in between. There may be, in fact probably is, sleep happening there, but it's not the good and restful kind, the kind that assuages tired. It's the kind where you don't realize you've slept at all. And the tired just hangs on.
And I am tired. I can feel it in my bones, how tired I am. And I am sleepy too- at some point every night I nod off in front of the TV or computer or whatever book I am reading. And then wake up an hour later, ready to begin my horrible now-routine of doze, toss, turn, arrange pillows, try for change of scenery, doze on guest bed, doze over book or computer, drink the water I habitually keep next to the bed, and pee. I probably go to the toilet every 45 minutes these nights. I drink because I am bored and thirsty, the result of pregnancy and Sudafed. I get up to pee more or less for the same reasons. It gives me something to do.
I just somehow seem to have lost the knack for falling asleep and staying that way.
Google "pregnancy insomnia" and you get lots of burbling advice about managing heartburn, leg cramps, needing to go to the bathroom, and physical discomfort because of the baby belly. Sometimes they might also mention the anxiety of having a baby as a factor. But it doesn't seem like they mean what I'm going through when they talk about "taking a warm bath before bed" as a way to help ease into sleep.
Plus, it doesn't feel like those things are the problem. I'm not hugely uncomfortable- I mean, I am, but I have lived, and slept, with it before. I have thankfully been spared the leg cramps. And if I treated the heartburn before I went to sleep- back when I was actually getting sleep- it didn't bother me most nights, and most others a second swig of Maalox would take care of it. When I was able to sleep, I got up to go to the bathroom maybe twice a night. And I don't feel particularly anxious about things. I mean, yes, there is a huge amount of stressful things happening in my life right now, no question. But it's not as though I lie awake worrying about whether to fire the nanny (still a question) or what's happening with Bruce and Tokyo (answer: nothing, right now, which drives me crazy). I almost never think of these things in the middle of the night. Mostly I try to clear my head and think of nothing, trying to relax, though lately I have been tormented with various Wiggles songs that get stuck in my head.
I will say there is one source of anxiety that rears its scary, ugly head in the dark times before dawn. What if I will never sleep again? What if I have the baby but I don't ever get to dream again, or wake feeling rested, or even unrested but knowing I had been sleeping deeply before Segunda's cries woke me? What if this is my life from now on? Because I am reasonably convinced that this is pregnancy related in some form or fashion, most days I can shrug it off with a "this too shall pass" kind of resignation. Certainly it's not that hard to function during my activity limited days, though occasionally I worry about being sleepy on the drive to or from the doctor's office. But mostly I doze my way through the days more or less the same as I do the nights, never really falling asleep, usually being awakened by the phone ringing or email buzzing or children in the house or leaf blowers outside my window.
But at night, that's when I worry that things will never be "back to normal" in the sleep department. And I wonder how long I can be functional, how long can I be sane, under these circumstances. It's not a nice thing to contemplate.
I try all the tricks I've ever used: progressive relaxation, focusing on my breathing, clearing my head. Just lying still and keeping my eyes closed used to work at least half the time. Now I just drowse in a strange combination of bored and sleepy combined with a compulsion to look at the clock every five minutes. I've never not been able to sleep and I almost don't know how to behave.
I might have mentioned I'm off to the doctor again this morning, and I'm going to ask for something prescription to help me sleep. I have no idea what might be safe, but I need a good night's sleep, in the way that I need air and food right now. And I will try- assuming that regular sleep comes back into my life- never to take it for granted ever again.
Please pray for me. If you don't pray, please think good sleep filled thoughts for me. I need them. I need something, anyway.
Tuesday, February 17, 2009
Of the Short Term and Longer Term Issues
So, in order according to the issue that will impact us soonest: Caetlin, Segunda, and Tokyo.
Caetlin had to go back to the doctor today, for a catheterization to give the doctor a urine sample to make sure that the infection has been vanquished prior to her surgery next Monday. How I wish she were potty trained, so we didn't have to go through the catheterization process! She hates it, and fights it, and I have to help hold her down, and even though I know it is the right and necessary thing to do, it makes me feel like such a horrible Mommy. I'm supposed to keep her safe from everything that hurts her, and here I am facilitating pain in my dearest girl. I could have taken the easy way out and not gone to the doctor today, but I felt like I had to be there for her. Through her tears and screams, she had her eyes open and she was looking at me. Did I offer her comfort by being there, even though I was holding her down for the torture? I hope so. I really wanted to offer her comfort and make her less afraid. Anyway, the minute it was over, she was fine, of course. I hope she forgives me.
On the practical side, she has her surgery next Monday, assuming her urine is clear (it was immediately clear under the microscope, but they are also going to culture it too). It is, as I may have mentioned, outpatient, though she will have to be under general anesthesia. I asked her pediatrician about whether I should be freaked out by her being under a general, and she said absolutely not, the anesthesiologist is a pediatric anesthesiologist and does nothing but dose children all day long. She said the hardest thing will be seeing her come out of it, which wasn't terribly comforting. Here again, I could take the easy way out- it's probably not good for my blood pressure to be anxiously waiting for my daughter to come out of surgery- but I won't. I'll be there for her to hopefully help ease her through whatever terrible transition awakening from the drugs will mean for her.
On the Segunda front, I visited the doctor again today, and things appear to be the same. My blood pressure is still up, but comes down with rest almost immediately. If I really could do nothing but spend time on my left side, I would be golden. Unfortunately, of course, that is not feasible, so we are playing a game of chance. Can my pressure be sufficiently controlled with rest, to the point where it is not more harmful to me or the baby to leave her inside? It appears that it can, at least as of now. I am probably not taking my bed rest seriously enough, especially not during a three-day weekend where it was important to me to attend a good friend's daughter's baptism (I am her godmother, for crying out loud!), where I felt guilty and lazy for allowing Bruce to do all the Caetlin wrangling, where I felt I didn't see Caetlin enough as it is anyway, and where I simply couldn't bear to let my messy house and unwashed clothes remain messy and unwashed any longer (nor could I let Bruce do it all; see above for guilt).
My doctor remains out of town until early next week, and then is out of town again at the end of next week, so it looks like my probable induction date is March 4, if I haven't gone into labor spontaneously by then or if something hasn't happened to suggest that I should be induced even though my doctor isn't around to deliver. I said March 2 a few days ago, but apparently the call schedule has been rearranged. Anyway, when I see my doctor again next Tuesday, we will discuss it. I go back on Friday to see the other doctor I've been seeing while my doc is out of town.
We spoke a bit about my particular circumstances, and how they will affect my labor and delivery, and even if I start labor spontaneously, there is no possible way I will not be hooked immediately and continuously to the fetal monitor. That being the case, I will be confined to bed immediately on my arrival to the hospital. I had hoped to attempt a drug-free labor and delivery this time, and being more or less immobile is going to make that difficult. I know that, because I was monitored continuously with Caetlin too, and even though I was not attempting anything drug free at that time, I still felt confined and unable to really get comfortable. Anyway, it feels to me like I shouldn't even go in with any expectation of a drug-free birth, because it is just going to be too hard to try it under these circumstances. No walking around to labor, no changing positions to labor, no hot showers...it just seems like so many options are going to be taken away from me. And while I am no crunchy, Rikki Lake-style believer that an unmedicated birth is the only true way to have a baby, I had wanted to give it a try. At least a shot, to see if I could do it. And the odds are now pretty stacked against me being able to do it, which I'm not really surprised by. But I am still kind of disappointed.
That is all if labor actually starts spontaneously, which I'm not so sure that it will. If I am induced, that will be even one more thing keeping me immobile (the IV for the Pitocin), and one more thing making drug-free even harder (the Pitocin makes contractions come more closely together and more painful). I am hopeful that if I am induced, they won't break the amniotic sac right away, which they did with Caetlin, which also makes it more painful. Anyway, the reason I am not confident of spontaneous labor is because at today's cervix check, there is nothing happening. No change. Zip. Zilch. Nada. For all that I feel like I could go into labor at any minute, nothing is happening to actually make that a reality.
And finally, Tokyo. Here's the rundown on Tokyo, about which I haven't written much. Late last year, in the October-November time frame, Bruce was approached about a secondment with a Tokyo client. A secondment is a job at the company for a specific time frame or assignment, arranged in concert with the law firm. The firm gets a strengthened client relationship (assuming the lawyer does a good job) and the lawyer gets another professional avenue to explore. It's like trying on an in-house counsel job without having to actually switch jobs. And in this case, the job would be in Tokyo.
Bruce went through several rounds of interviews with partners in the firm, making sure he was a good fit for the firm to recommend to any potential client who might want a secondee. We were led to believe that there were several clients who had a need for someone. There were also discussions about me, and finding a secondment for me as well, for the whole family relocating to Tokyo. We researched typical ex-patriate packages, and it looked good, like a potential raise. It looked like a way out, a way to revitalize Bruce's career that is fading as a result of the market mess we find ourselves in.
I didn't write about it at the time, because I wanted to wait until it was a done deal, until we were leasing an apartment in Roppongi and looking for day care for Caetlin. But it looked good. It looked really, really promising.
And then the market continued to slide, and the emails grew more non-committal, talking about whether- not when- any client actually had a need to be filled, suggesting that the opportunities were drying up. There was also a problem with what to do after, as the Tokyo office wasn't making any promises to take either of us on, which may have required us to come back to the Atlanta office and fit back in somehow (when he has never managed to fit in here to begin with?). And as time went on, it looked like it was a dead issue. It had been exciting to contemplate, and scary, but ultimately it went nowhere.
Then, Bruce was told, unofficially but not rumor, that he was being laid off. And then it didn't happen, and we've been left to wonder why. There is a new department that has been formed, a department that Bruce could possibly join, has asked to join, but he hasn't been formally reassigned, even now, nearly two months after discussing it with the head of the office. I know things work slowly in the firm, but it has been a source of anxiety trying to figure out what Bruce's place is in all this. Is he on the brink of being laid off, and that is why he hasn't been reassigned?
And so, a couple of weeks ago, the answer appeared to have presented itself. He has been offered a secondment, for a year, in Tokyo. At a significantly reduced salary than we originally expected, courtesy of the freefalling market and a huge number of laid off American lawyers flooding Asia looking for work. There is no discussion of me, except to say that there is no room for me in the Tokyo office. There is no guarantee of any office for Bruce to return to, after his position. The bottom line, though it hasn't been spelled out in so many words, is that his choice is Tokyo or be laid off. We both think this is why he hasn't been reassigned. And they are going to be offering the client a real deal, an experienced attorney who is so much cheaper than anyone in Japan would ever expect. The firm has little or no incentive to try to work with the client to increase the comp offered (which includes $0 for cost of living, because apparently it's comparable to live in Tokyo versus Atlanta), since Bruce is more or less disposable to the firm at this point. If he says no, no harm done. He'll just be fired. This is our reasoning, anyway, though it has not been confirmed to us.
We don't feel as though we have any choice but to take it. I will have to stay here, because I can't give up my salary, since his salary will not be enough to support the family in Tokyo and I have no job in Japan. And given the current market, it just feels irresponsible for Bruce to give up on his law career when we still have a house in Charlotte that we can't sell, and no way of knowing what the financial outlook is. It is us basically operating on a premise that things are still going to get worse for us, and we can't afford to give any ground in the event that things really do get worse. If that Unknown Something Terrible happens, we will be in better shape if Bruce continues working, even at a reduced salary (reduced because it will have to be maintaining him in Tokyo on the same amount of money. He's also getting paid in dollars, which is even worse since the dollar is so weak against the yen right now), than if he were not working at all.
So...I'm likely going to be a single mom for a year. It seems like it should be workable- after all, tons of parents do it every day. My mother-in-law has offered to move up to help, which will be a huge thing, and I love her so incredibly much for it. I think, given the financial squeeze, that we may let the nanny go, though the flexibility that we have with her is a huge benefit.
I...can't write about this any more now. You may guess from the tone here that I am kind of down; it's been a bit of a tough day. The process is going to take a few months, so I'll have time to fill in the details later.
Caetlin had to go back to the doctor today, for a catheterization to give the doctor a urine sample to make sure that the infection has been vanquished prior to her surgery next Monday. How I wish she were potty trained, so we didn't have to go through the catheterization process! She hates it, and fights it, and I have to help hold her down, and even though I know it is the right and necessary thing to do, it makes me feel like such a horrible Mommy. I'm supposed to keep her safe from everything that hurts her, and here I am facilitating pain in my dearest girl. I could have taken the easy way out and not gone to the doctor today, but I felt like I had to be there for her. Through her tears and screams, she had her eyes open and she was looking at me. Did I offer her comfort by being there, even though I was holding her down for the torture? I hope so. I really wanted to offer her comfort and make her less afraid. Anyway, the minute it was over, she was fine, of course. I hope she forgives me.
On the practical side, she has her surgery next Monday, assuming her urine is clear (it was immediately clear under the microscope, but they are also going to culture it too). It is, as I may have mentioned, outpatient, though she will have to be under general anesthesia. I asked her pediatrician about whether I should be freaked out by her being under a general, and she said absolutely not, the anesthesiologist is a pediatric anesthesiologist and does nothing but dose children all day long. She said the hardest thing will be seeing her come out of it, which wasn't terribly comforting. Here again, I could take the easy way out- it's probably not good for my blood pressure to be anxiously waiting for my daughter to come out of surgery- but I won't. I'll be there for her to hopefully help ease her through whatever terrible transition awakening from the drugs will mean for her.
On the Segunda front, I visited the doctor again today, and things appear to be the same. My blood pressure is still up, but comes down with rest almost immediately. If I really could do nothing but spend time on my left side, I would be golden. Unfortunately, of course, that is not feasible, so we are playing a game of chance. Can my pressure be sufficiently controlled with rest, to the point where it is not more harmful to me or the baby to leave her inside? It appears that it can, at least as of now. I am probably not taking my bed rest seriously enough, especially not during a three-day weekend where it was important to me to attend a good friend's daughter's baptism (I am her godmother, for crying out loud!), where I felt guilty and lazy for allowing Bruce to do all the Caetlin wrangling, where I felt I didn't see Caetlin enough as it is anyway, and where I simply couldn't bear to let my messy house and unwashed clothes remain messy and unwashed any longer (nor could I let Bruce do it all; see above for guilt).
My doctor remains out of town until early next week, and then is out of town again at the end of next week, so it looks like my probable induction date is March 4, if I haven't gone into labor spontaneously by then or if something hasn't happened to suggest that I should be induced even though my doctor isn't around to deliver. I said March 2 a few days ago, but apparently the call schedule has been rearranged. Anyway, when I see my doctor again next Tuesday, we will discuss it. I go back on Friday to see the other doctor I've been seeing while my doc is out of town.
We spoke a bit about my particular circumstances, and how they will affect my labor and delivery, and even if I start labor spontaneously, there is no possible way I will not be hooked immediately and continuously to the fetal monitor. That being the case, I will be confined to bed immediately on my arrival to the hospital. I had hoped to attempt a drug-free labor and delivery this time, and being more or less immobile is going to make that difficult. I know that, because I was monitored continuously with Caetlin too, and even though I was not attempting anything drug free at that time, I still felt confined and unable to really get comfortable. Anyway, it feels to me like I shouldn't even go in with any expectation of a drug-free birth, because it is just going to be too hard to try it under these circumstances. No walking around to labor, no changing positions to labor, no hot showers...it just seems like so many options are going to be taken away from me. And while I am no crunchy, Rikki Lake-style believer that an unmedicated birth is the only true way to have a baby, I had wanted to give it a try. At least a shot, to see if I could do it. And the odds are now pretty stacked against me being able to do it, which I'm not really surprised by. But I am still kind of disappointed.
That is all if labor actually starts spontaneously, which I'm not so sure that it will. If I am induced, that will be even one more thing keeping me immobile (the IV for the Pitocin), and one more thing making drug-free even harder (the Pitocin makes contractions come more closely together and more painful). I am hopeful that if I am induced, they won't break the amniotic sac right away, which they did with Caetlin, which also makes it more painful. Anyway, the reason I am not confident of spontaneous labor is because at today's cervix check, there is nothing happening. No change. Zip. Zilch. Nada. For all that I feel like I could go into labor at any minute, nothing is happening to actually make that a reality.
And finally, Tokyo. Here's the rundown on Tokyo, about which I haven't written much. Late last year, in the October-November time frame, Bruce was approached about a secondment with a Tokyo client. A secondment is a job at the company for a specific time frame or assignment, arranged in concert with the law firm. The firm gets a strengthened client relationship (assuming the lawyer does a good job) and the lawyer gets another professional avenue to explore. It's like trying on an in-house counsel job without having to actually switch jobs. And in this case, the job would be in Tokyo.
Bruce went through several rounds of interviews with partners in the firm, making sure he was a good fit for the firm to recommend to any potential client who might want a secondee. We were led to believe that there were several clients who had a need for someone. There were also discussions about me, and finding a secondment for me as well, for the whole family relocating to Tokyo. We researched typical ex-patriate packages, and it looked good, like a potential raise. It looked like a way out, a way to revitalize Bruce's career that is fading as a result of the market mess we find ourselves in.
I didn't write about it at the time, because I wanted to wait until it was a done deal, until we were leasing an apartment in Roppongi and looking for day care for Caetlin. But it looked good. It looked really, really promising.
And then the market continued to slide, and the emails grew more non-committal, talking about whether- not when- any client actually had a need to be filled, suggesting that the opportunities were drying up. There was also a problem with what to do after, as the Tokyo office wasn't making any promises to take either of us on, which may have required us to come back to the Atlanta office and fit back in somehow (when he has never managed to fit in here to begin with?). And as time went on, it looked like it was a dead issue. It had been exciting to contemplate, and scary, but ultimately it went nowhere.
Then, Bruce was told, unofficially but not rumor, that he was being laid off. And then it didn't happen, and we've been left to wonder why. There is a new department that has been formed, a department that Bruce could possibly join, has asked to join, but he hasn't been formally reassigned, even now, nearly two months after discussing it with the head of the office. I know things work slowly in the firm, but it has been a source of anxiety trying to figure out what Bruce's place is in all this. Is he on the brink of being laid off, and that is why he hasn't been reassigned?
And so, a couple of weeks ago, the answer appeared to have presented itself. He has been offered a secondment, for a year, in Tokyo. At a significantly reduced salary than we originally expected, courtesy of the freefalling market and a huge number of laid off American lawyers flooding Asia looking for work. There is no discussion of me, except to say that there is no room for me in the Tokyo office. There is no guarantee of any office for Bruce to return to, after his position. The bottom line, though it hasn't been spelled out in so many words, is that his choice is Tokyo or be laid off. We both think this is why he hasn't been reassigned. And they are going to be offering the client a real deal, an experienced attorney who is so much cheaper than anyone in Japan would ever expect. The firm has little or no incentive to try to work with the client to increase the comp offered (which includes $0 for cost of living, because apparently it's comparable to live in Tokyo versus Atlanta), since Bruce is more or less disposable to the firm at this point. If he says no, no harm done. He'll just be fired. This is our reasoning, anyway, though it has not been confirmed to us.
We don't feel as though we have any choice but to take it. I will have to stay here, because I can't give up my salary, since his salary will not be enough to support the family in Tokyo and I have no job in Japan. And given the current market, it just feels irresponsible for Bruce to give up on his law career when we still have a house in Charlotte that we can't sell, and no way of knowing what the financial outlook is. It is us basically operating on a premise that things are still going to get worse for us, and we can't afford to give any ground in the event that things really do get worse. If that Unknown Something Terrible happens, we will be in better shape if Bruce continues working, even at a reduced salary (reduced because it will have to be maintaining him in Tokyo on the same amount of money. He's also getting paid in dollars, which is even worse since the dollar is so weak against the yen right now), than if he were not working at all.
So...I'm likely going to be a single mom for a year. It seems like it should be workable- after all, tons of parents do it every day. My mother-in-law has offered to move up to help, which will be a huge thing, and I love her so incredibly much for it. I think, given the financial squeeze, that we may let the nanny go, though the flexibility that we have with her is a huge benefit.
I...can't write about this any more now. You may guess from the tone here that I am kind of down; it's been a bit of a tough day. The process is going to take a few months, so I'll have time to fill in the details later.
Tuesday, February 3, 2009
Update on My Health and Other Matters
So, I may have mentioned that my pregnancy induced high blood pressure appears to be back. It was elevated, for the first time in my pregnancy, when I saw the doctor on Thursday before Caetlin got sick, and I ended up having to go back twice last week while Caetlin was in the hospital. Without rehashing details I've already written about, suffice to say my pressure has stayed elevated. No pre-eclampsia, thank goodness, but definitely high blood pressure.
I saw the doctor yesterday and had a fetal non-stress test- basically, they hooked me up to a fetal heart monitor, which also measured contractions, and gave me a Jeopardy! style handheld clicker that I was to push every time I felt Segunda move. I stayed strapped up to the machine for maybe 20 minutes or so, at which time the doctor came in and looked at the readout and pronounced the baby, "Perfect." So Segunda is in no distress at all from my condition.
My pressure wasn't high enough yesterday to make my doctor order me out of work, but he did recommend that I buy a blood pressure cuff and start charting my pressure through the day. He also said he is going to see me twice a week from now on. The point right now is to monitor me for any dangerously high spikes, and see if it is trending upward or if it appears to be higher during the work day, at which point he will certify that I need to stop working.
The doctor said the baby would be completely fine if we delivered her right now, though she would probably have to stay in the hospital an extra week or ten days. I would personally prefer that she stay in until the end of the month as she is supposed to, for her sake, for my sake (I'm not ready yet!) and for leave purposes. For a variety of boring reasons, I really want to have her as late as possible, so I can stretch out my leave for 4 months, until the beginning of July.
Anyway, today was the first day of monitoring, and so far it does seem as though my pressure is higher during the work day. I don't really want to be certified as short-term disabled, but I'd rather that than having to deliver the baby right now.
Anyway, that's all there is on that front. I go back to the doctor on Thursday.
Caetlin is doing marvelously well. You'd never know, looking at her today, that she was so sick a week ago. For example, I was standing in the laundry nook off the kitchen tonight, putting a load into the washer, and she was running around and around the circle between kitchen, dining room and living room, yelling, "I run and go fast, Mommy!" every time she made the circuit. She saw her pediatrician today, who thought she looked great, and is happy with our treatment plan. We are seeing her urologist tomorrow, to discuss having the outpatient procedure done that will more than likely fix her reflux and stop any future UTIs from infecting her kidneys. Hopefully we can have it done before Segunda comes. The procedure is a complete snap as I understand it, involving more or less a large needle and an ultrasound machine, I think, so I hope it won't be too hard to schedule.
(Adorable non-sequitur: the firm sent a lovely basket of books and toys and a balloon, and one of the things in the basket was a Mickey Mouse activity book, including Caetlin's beloved stickers. She's been asking for Mickey Mouse stickers, and I have to indulge her as much as I possibly can, since she calls him, "Wickey Mouse." Which I think is seriously the cutest thing ever and I make her say it as much as I can.)
I pulled all of Caetlin's newborn size clothing out of storage today, so it can be washed and made ready for Segunda. I cannot comprehend how those clothes ever fit Caetlin, how they were even a little big for her.
Finally, Bruce has received an offer from the firm's Tokyo office to go work for a year for one of their Japanese investment bank clients. I think the weird limbo that we've been in regarding his job status has something to do with this offer, like it's this or being laid off. The compensation isn't exactly what we would like, and Bruce has asked if anything can be done in that regard, though our hopes aren't high. Plus there is the whole Bruce-living-in-Tokyo-for-a-year thing, the whole single parenthood thing, from my perspective. It's not ideal, but if Bruce wants to continue being a lawyer, he basically needs to take it. At the current offer, we'll lose money over what we're making now, but not nearly as much as if Bruce loses his job altogether. It's unclear when they will want him to start, if he accepts it; most likely sometime in early summer.
Anyway, I can't write much more about that, in part because I don't know where my thinking is. It's just one more area of upheaval and stress. Awesome.
I saw the doctor yesterday and had a fetal non-stress test- basically, they hooked me up to a fetal heart monitor, which also measured contractions, and gave me a Jeopardy! style handheld clicker that I was to push every time I felt Segunda move. I stayed strapped up to the machine for maybe 20 minutes or so, at which time the doctor came in and looked at the readout and pronounced the baby, "Perfect." So Segunda is in no distress at all from my condition.
My pressure wasn't high enough yesterday to make my doctor order me out of work, but he did recommend that I buy a blood pressure cuff and start charting my pressure through the day. He also said he is going to see me twice a week from now on. The point right now is to monitor me for any dangerously high spikes, and see if it is trending upward or if it appears to be higher during the work day, at which point he will certify that I need to stop working.
The doctor said the baby would be completely fine if we delivered her right now, though she would probably have to stay in the hospital an extra week or ten days. I would personally prefer that she stay in until the end of the month as she is supposed to, for her sake, for my sake (I'm not ready yet!) and for leave purposes. For a variety of boring reasons, I really want to have her as late as possible, so I can stretch out my leave for 4 months, until the beginning of July.
Anyway, today was the first day of monitoring, and so far it does seem as though my pressure is higher during the work day. I don't really want to be certified as short-term disabled, but I'd rather that than having to deliver the baby right now.
Anyway, that's all there is on that front. I go back to the doctor on Thursday.
Caetlin is doing marvelously well. You'd never know, looking at her today, that she was so sick a week ago. For example, I was standing in the laundry nook off the kitchen tonight, putting a load into the washer, and she was running around and around the circle between kitchen, dining room and living room, yelling, "I run and go fast, Mommy!" every time she made the circuit. She saw her pediatrician today, who thought she looked great, and is happy with our treatment plan. We are seeing her urologist tomorrow, to discuss having the outpatient procedure done that will more than likely fix her reflux and stop any future UTIs from infecting her kidneys. Hopefully we can have it done before Segunda comes. The procedure is a complete snap as I understand it, involving more or less a large needle and an ultrasound machine, I think, so I hope it won't be too hard to schedule.
(Adorable non-sequitur: the firm sent a lovely basket of books and toys and a balloon, and one of the things in the basket was a Mickey Mouse activity book, including Caetlin's beloved stickers. She's been asking for Mickey Mouse stickers, and I have to indulge her as much as I possibly can, since she calls him, "Wickey Mouse." Which I think is seriously the cutest thing ever and I make her say it as much as I can.)
I pulled all of Caetlin's newborn size clothing out of storage today, so it can be washed and made ready for Segunda. I cannot comprehend how those clothes ever fit Caetlin, how they were even a little big for her.
Finally, Bruce has received an offer from the firm's Tokyo office to go work for a year for one of their Japanese investment bank clients. I think the weird limbo that we've been in regarding his job status has something to do with this offer, like it's this or being laid off. The compensation isn't exactly what we would like, and Bruce has asked if anything can be done in that regard, though our hopes aren't high. Plus there is the whole Bruce-living-in-Tokyo-for-a-year thing, the whole single parenthood thing, from my perspective. It's not ideal, but if Bruce wants to continue being a lawyer, he basically needs to take it. At the current offer, we'll lose money over what we're making now, but not nearly as much as if Bruce loses his job altogether. It's unclear when they will want him to start, if he accepts it; most likely sometime in early summer.
Anyway, I can't write much more about that, in part because I don't know where my thinking is. It's just one more area of upheaval and stress. Awesome.
Monday, January 19, 2009
Bittersweet
So, the estrangement from my extended family that I have alluded to a few times continues apace. I'm starting to feel better about it; certainly time is doing it's legendary healing of all wounds. I won't say I'm happy about it, or that I don't wonder whether we'll ever speak again or be close again, but it's not taking up huge chunks of my brain power any more, and for that I am grateful. I'm learning to fill those holes in my life with other things, and I think on balance it is a good change that I've had to make.
It doesn't change the fact, though, that sometimes things are a little poignant. This afternoon, Bruce, Caetlin and I went to lunch at a casual restaurant that we usually have visited with my sister and brother-in-law. On the way inside from the car, Caetlin says, clearly remembering the times we've been there with them, "Aunt [Sister] gone bye-bye."
Bruce just said, yes, baby, you really don't know how true that is. Aunt [Sister] is gone bye-bye in so many more ways than one.
And then a minute later she followed it up with, "And Uncle [Brother-In-Law] gone bye-bye too."
And Bruce said, yes, sweetie, he was truly unfortunate collateral damage and he's gone bye-bye too. Bruce had thought of Brother-In-Law as a friend, and has been terribly disappointed that in the turmoil between my sister and me, Brother-In-Law seems to have written Bruce off as well.
We moved on, swinging Caetlin between us ("One...Two...THREE!"), and into the restaurant for lunch, even as we moved on in our conversation and our thoughts. But the short exchange stayed with me, funny and sad, wisdom from the mouths of babes, etc. We are- I am- moving on. I'm still sad that I have to, but yes- my family is gone bye-bye.
It doesn't change the fact, though, that sometimes things are a little poignant. This afternoon, Bruce, Caetlin and I went to lunch at a casual restaurant that we usually have visited with my sister and brother-in-law. On the way inside from the car, Caetlin says, clearly remembering the times we've been there with them, "Aunt [Sister] gone bye-bye."
Bruce just said, yes, baby, you really don't know how true that is. Aunt [Sister] is gone bye-bye in so many more ways than one.
And then a minute later she followed it up with, "And Uncle [Brother-In-Law] gone bye-bye too."
And Bruce said, yes, sweetie, he was truly unfortunate collateral damage and he's gone bye-bye too. Bruce had thought of Brother-In-Law as a friend, and has been terribly disappointed that in the turmoil between my sister and me, Brother-In-Law seems to have written Bruce off as well.
We moved on, swinging Caetlin between us ("One...Two...THREE!"), and into the restaurant for lunch, even as we moved on in our conversation and our thoughts. But the short exchange stayed with me, funny and sad, wisdom from the mouths of babes, etc. We are- I am- moving on. I'm still sad that I have to, but yes- my family is gone bye-bye.
Wednesday, January 14, 2009
Belated: In Memoriam
Something I completely failed to write about at the time it happened this past fall needs not to go unheeded. In October, our wonderful kitty Kabuki went on to the great litter box in the sky. In retrospect, it seemed like we should have seen the signs. He wasn't sick for very long- whatever killed him, did so quickly- but in hindsight we could definitely put some of the strange behavior puzzle pieces together.
It all started, at least when we really started paying attention, when he didn't come home for a few days. And then he did, and we thought he was just having a long jaunt away. He was always more comfortable as an outside kitty, and we indulged him that here. He was a smart cat. He rarely left the yard, and he was extra cautious around cars. Of our three cats, he was the one best equipped for any outside adventures.
Not long after the three-day absence, he just didn't come home again one night. We felt sure he would turn up, as he always had, though even the three-day hiatus was extremely unusual for him. When he didn't show, we called for him, and listened for his cry, and dashed to the door whenever one of us imagined his plaintive wailing outside. He always sounded so full of ennui. Bruce always made me smile when he responded to a seemingly-despondent cat cry with, "Live, Kabuki! Live!"
About a week after he had last been seen, we had started trying to come to grips with the idea that he was probably gone, though Bruce was making a half-hearted attempt at searching local animal shelters. Then I happened to see a notice on the telephone pole immediately across the street from our house: "Found: black Persian cat. Please call" and it listed a number. Bruce called and concluded from his brief conversation with the woman on the other end that the cat in question was not Kabuki, but as the days went on with no sign, something about it didn't feel right to me. I asked him to call her again, and on the second call he elicited the relevant information.
The woman lives across the street from us, apparently. (I told you he wasn't a wanderer!) Early Sunday morning she found Kabuki lying in her driveway, clearly ill but purring when she picked him up. She tried to call emergency vets, but couldn't find any that were open, and as she held him, he had some kind of seizure or spasm and died in her arms.
We didn't reach her in time before she had disposed of his body, so we don't have 100% confirmation, but she gave enough details, particularly of his white undercoat that was so distinctive, that we are pretty sure it was him. And once we learned he had been so sick, a few other pieces fell into place. Like the times over the last few weeks that Kabuki had not eaten when food was put in front of him- very unusual. And the time we exited the front door to find a large pile of newly-regurgitated food hanging out on the front stoop. Also not like Kabuki, who (unlike Hobbes, our orange kitty with the nervous stomach) had never been a puker. And the general standoffishness he had been displaying, coupled with some unusual neediness. I know that sounds contradictory. I can't explain it any better than that.
I feel I failed him, not seeing these subtle signs of his illness for what they were. I failed him, and I let him be with a stranger at the end, not with us who cared about him so much. At least he wasn't alone. I take some small comfort in that.
It took a long time before I stopped looking for him when I drove up, or listening for him to come running when I walked up the steps to the house. And for a long time I didn't write about it because I just felt too bad about it. Not in the weeping, grieving sense, though I did mourn his loss. But just feeling bad about how he died, how we missed his sickness, how we failed him. He deserved better from us, though I don't know how we could have given it. Even in hindsight, the signs were subtle. I'm so sorry, Wookiee.
Anyway, Bruce asked me to update my year end post to make sure his passing didn't go unmarked, and I realized he needed a full post. He was a good kitty, the sweetest boy ever who would have been the perfect cat if he would just have used a litter box. He had a big head that was just right for scritching between his ears, and lovely big paws that were adorable. He was all black, but he turned rust colored as he aged. It was his way of going gray, I guess. And he had that white undercoat that made him turn mostly white when he got wet. He was always good for a really good, loud purr- he always purred loud as a kitten, and he loved to sit on Bruce's belly and be petted. He always greatly appreciated any pets anyone might give him, but he wasn't as insistent as some other cats can be. Petting him was always its own reward, because of how good it clearly made him feel. He had bad back hips for years, but he never complained.
RIP, Kabuki. I hope we meet again someday.
It all started, at least when we really started paying attention, when he didn't come home for a few days. And then he did, and we thought he was just having a long jaunt away. He was always more comfortable as an outside kitty, and we indulged him that here. He was a smart cat. He rarely left the yard, and he was extra cautious around cars. Of our three cats, he was the one best equipped for any outside adventures.
Not long after the three-day absence, he just didn't come home again one night. We felt sure he would turn up, as he always had, though even the three-day hiatus was extremely unusual for him. When he didn't show, we called for him, and listened for his cry, and dashed to the door whenever one of us imagined his plaintive wailing outside. He always sounded so full of ennui. Bruce always made me smile when he responded to a seemingly-despondent cat cry with, "Live, Kabuki! Live!"
About a week after he had last been seen, we had started trying to come to grips with the idea that he was probably gone, though Bruce was making a half-hearted attempt at searching local animal shelters. Then I happened to see a notice on the telephone pole immediately across the street from our house: "Found: black Persian cat. Please call" and it listed a number. Bruce called and concluded from his brief conversation with the woman on the other end that the cat in question was not Kabuki, but as the days went on with no sign, something about it didn't feel right to me. I asked him to call her again, and on the second call he elicited the relevant information.
The woman lives across the street from us, apparently. (I told you he wasn't a wanderer!) Early Sunday morning she found Kabuki lying in her driveway, clearly ill but purring when she picked him up. She tried to call emergency vets, but couldn't find any that were open, and as she held him, he had some kind of seizure or spasm and died in her arms.
We didn't reach her in time before she had disposed of his body, so we don't have 100% confirmation, but she gave enough details, particularly of his white undercoat that was so distinctive, that we are pretty sure it was him. And once we learned he had been so sick, a few other pieces fell into place. Like the times over the last few weeks that Kabuki had not eaten when food was put in front of him- very unusual. And the time we exited the front door to find a large pile of newly-regurgitated food hanging out on the front stoop. Also not like Kabuki, who (unlike Hobbes, our orange kitty with the nervous stomach) had never been a puker. And the general standoffishness he had been displaying, coupled with some unusual neediness. I know that sounds contradictory. I can't explain it any better than that.
I feel I failed him, not seeing these subtle signs of his illness for what they were. I failed him, and I let him be with a stranger at the end, not with us who cared about him so much. At least he wasn't alone. I take some small comfort in that.
It took a long time before I stopped looking for him when I drove up, or listening for him to come running when I walked up the steps to the house. And for a long time I didn't write about it because I just felt too bad about it. Not in the weeping, grieving sense, though I did mourn his loss. But just feeling bad about how he died, how we missed his sickness, how we failed him. He deserved better from us, though I don't know how we could have given it. Even in hindsight, the signs were subtle. I'm so sorry, Wookiee.
Anyway, Bruce asked me to update my year end post to make sure his passing didn't go unmarked, and I realized he needed a full post. He was a good kitty, the sweetest boy ever who would have been the perfect cat if he would just have used a litter box. He had a big head that was just right for scritching between his ears, and lovely big paws that were adorable. He was all black, but he turned rust colored as he aged. It was his way of going gray, I guess. And he had that white undercoat that made him turn mostly white when he got wet. He was always good for a really good, loud purr- he always purred loud as a kitten, and he loved to sit on Bruce's belly and be petted. He always greatly appreciated any pets anyone might give him, but he wasn't as insistent as some other cats can be. Petting him was always its own reward, because of how good it clearly made him feel. He had bad back hips for years, but he never complained.
RIP, Kabuki. I hope we meet again someday.
Monday, January 12, 2009
Reprieve, Or How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Uncertainty
Okay, my post title lies: I can't love the uncertainty.
The meeting at which the laid off one was to officially be axed happened today. I can tell you finally that it is Bruce who is affected by this, not me. What I can't tell you, though, is anything about the details of the impending separation.
Against all odds and expectations, it appears- preliminarily- that the Hail Mary I referenced a couple of times may have worked. The office head actually appears to be interested in helping Bruce find a new department, now that his industry has collapsed, rather than just firing him.
It's not a done deal yet; they are set to meet again on Friday to confirm the details. But it looks like the firm doesn't want to lay Bruce off. Like they may be actively looking for some way to keep him employed. At the meeting today, nothing was spoken about severance, or a soft landing, or anything like that.
If I sound amazed, it is because I am. I admit, I had very little faith that the firm cared anything at all about working with Bruce. And I still don't think that the firm does care, in the sense of concern for Bruce personally, but the fact that the management has enough foresight to try to find a fit for him, rather than simply cutting the "dead wood" and moving on, is simply befuddling to me at this point. This is not how law firm management typically works. Maybe it is not just propaganda that this firm is different.
Anyway, after the weeks of buildup, I have no idea what to think about all this. I had gotten myself into certain patterns of thinking, about the ways our life was going to change, about some things we need to do to make it work, and now those patterns maybe aren't terribly relevant and there is nothing to take their place, since we don't have complete assurance that Bruce still has a job and on what terms. After weeks and weeks of stress, it almost feels like a reprieve, but I'm not sure we can go back exactly the way we were. We've been giving a lot of thought to our future, and where we want to go and what we want to do with ourselves from here, and some of the changes in our thinking will be permanent, I think.
And still hovering over us is the uncertainty. The new group could decide not to take him on, and that will leave us in the same spot. Almost certainly a pay cut is in the works (though don't think I am complaining: any lesser cut is better than the 100% pay cut he was facing). He could still be out of a job in a few months, if the new group doesn't find work or if somehow politics comes into play in a way that we can't foresee right now.
What if, what if, what if. My head is spinning and it doesn't help that I didn't sleep well last night. Bruce says he is relieved. I'm not; I'm just confused and not counting our chickens before they hatch.
I think the tentative plan, if Bruce remains employed by the firm, is to still let the nanny go and put Caetlin in day care. That is a more than $2,000 per month savings, just on child care, and we have been thinking that day care would be good for her. But it will allow us to help her land a bit more softly, give her a longer notice and a larger severance. We want to pack away the savings and hammer at Bruce's student loans, which we can pay off within a year. We could pay mine off a year after that. And we must sell the Charlotte house. Once we sell that house, we can go anywhere we want, and just about do anything we want.
We need that kind of freedom, right now.
Anyway, reprieve! Kind of.
The meeting at which the laid off one was to officially be axed happened today. I can tell you finally that it is Bruce who is affected by this, not me. What I can't tell you, though, is anything about the details of the impending separation.
Against all odds and expectations, it appears- preliminarily- that the Hail Mary I referenced a couple of times may have worked. The office head actually appears to be interested in helping Bruce find a new department, now that his industry has collapsed, rather than just firing him.
It's not a done deal yet; they are set to meet again on Friday to confirm the details. But it looks like the firm doesn't want to lay Bruce off. Like they may be actively looking for some way to keep him employed. At the meeting today, nothing was spoken about severance, or a soft landing, or anything like that.
If I sound amazed, it is because I am. I admit, I had very little faith that the firm cared anything at all about working with Bruce. And I still don't think that the firm does care, in the sense of concern for Bruce personally, but the fact that the management has enough foresight to try to find a fit for him, rather than simply cutting the "dead wood" and moving on, is simply befuddling to me at this point. This is not how law firm management typically works. Maybe it is not just propaganda that this firm is different.
Anyway, after the weeks of buildup, I have no idea what to think about all this. I had gotten myself into certain patterns of thinking, about the ways our life was going to change, about some things we need to do to make it work, and now those patterns maybe aren't terribly relevant and there is nothing to take their place, since we don't have complete assurance that Bruce still has a job and on what terms. After weeks and weeks of stress, it almost feels like a reprieve, but I'm not sure we can go back exactly the way we were. We've been giving a lot of thought to our future, and where we want to go and what we want to do with ourselves from here, and some of the changes in our thinking will be permanent, I think.
And still hovering over us is the uncertainty. The new group could decide not to take him on, and that will leave us in the same spot. Almost certainly a pay cut is in the works (though don't think I am complaining: any lesser cut is better than the 100% pay cut he was facing). He could still be out of a job in a few months, if the new group doesn't find work or if somehow politics comes into play in a way that we can't foresee right now.
What if, what if, what if. My head is spinning and it doesn't help that I didn't sleep well last night. Bruce says he is relieved. I'm not; I'm just confused and not counting our chickens before they hatch.
I think the tentative plan, if Bruce remains employed by the firm, is to still let the nanny go and put Caetlin in day care. That is a more than $2,000 per month savings, just on child care, and we have been thinking that day care would be good for her. But it will allow us to help her land a bit more softly, give her a longer notice and a larger severance. We want to pack away the savings and hammer at Bruce's student loans, which we can pay off within a year. We could pay mine off a year after that. And we must sell the Charlotte house. Once we sell that house, we can go anywhere we want, and just about do anything we want.
We need that kind of freedom, right now.
Anyway, reprieve! Kind of.
Saturday, December 20, 2008
AWKwaaard
So, the laid-off among us went to work yesterday as normal, because they still actually have work to do, and was on the phone discussing said work with the partner who had unofficially spilled the beans about the impending axe, when the partner made some idle chit chat and asked how the laid-off one was doing.
"Oh, I'm okay, I guess. Have to go home and fire a nanny."
"Why, is she doing a bad job?"
*facepalm*
"No, it's because soon I will be unable to afford her."
*Crickets chirping*
Some people are so clueless. And if you can't laugh at a time like this, you have to cry. So I laugh at you, Clueless Partner. Ha ha ha.
"Oh, I'm okay, I guess. Have to go home and fire a nanny."
"Why, is she doing a bad job?"
*facepalm*
"No, it's because soon I will be unable to afford her."
*Crickets chirping*
Some people are so clueless. And if you can't laugh at a time like this, you have to cry. So I laugh at you, Clueless Partner. Ha ha ha.
Thursday, December 18, 2008
"Aaaand the Hits Just Keep On Coming...
...so keep that dial tuned to WATL and our sister station WSUX! Next up, all the headlines that matter!"
So, I should have known I was tempting fate. When you write things like this, "We're both employed at a good salary, and look to continue being so employed for the time being" and post them in public, you really are leaving yourself open to a great cosmic beat down.
It's not official. Yet. That won't happen until shortly after the new year, and the terms aren't entirely clear at this point. But the unofficial word is that one of us will not be employed for too terribly much longer. I don't want to say more, because if there is severance offered, I don't want to jeopardize it by being too blabby now. But that's the word from above. The way it appears to be working is that the let-go person is going to be staying on for some period of time, during which time they'll be encouraged to find other employment.
I guess my nanny dilemma has been solved, hasn't it? I didn't even have to get your weigh-in on whether to keep her on or not (bottom line: we didn't feel we were getting the value for the large amount of money we were paying, and we thought Caetlin would do well and be more challenged in a day care setting, but we didn't want to let the nanny go in such a crappy economy, knowing what we know about how her job sustains her family). I just hate to cut her loose into this economy, but that choice is completely out of my hands at this point.
We don't have a huge amount of fat in our budget to cut, though the largest expense that we can cut back is food, mostly because we eat out or takeout way too often. We'll be cooking much more very soon. We already have Caetlin into a day care, though it's not terribly convenient- it's a number of miles in the wrong direction. They at least have room for her. And if other employment isn't found, maybe we won't need day care at all. Being a stay at home parent has been discussed often around here lately, as one possible contingency plan.
Anyway, pray for us that the Charlotte house rents. If it rents even at a lower price than we might like, we'll still probably be okay on one income.
I'm scared. I wanted change, and I can see a lot of ways that this will be for the better for us, and I will be able to look to the future and those positive changes soon, but right now I'm just scared of what will happen to us. There is no market. For anything, really, but certainly not for what we do. I'm scared to make a go of it on one income, mostly because we have the Charlotte house to worry about. If I'm honest, we still have a lot of ways to cut back (cable, we could move someplace cheaper, etc.) without really sacrificing our quality of life all that much. And we have lots and lots of ways to cut back by sacrificing our quality of life, if it comes to that. Our credit will be fine, we will have food on the table and a roof over our heads.
It's just a lot to take in, combined with the emotions that come with this kind of news. Change is being foisted upon us, which is never preferred. I would have liked to have change come on my terms, thank you very much.
It's kind of like that old video game, Punch Out. Did anyone play that, or see/hear it in an arcade? I remember the announcer, when someone got on a particularly good streak, "Body blow! Body blow! Body blow!"
Yeah, it's kind of like that around here lately.
So, I should have known I was tempting fate. When you write things like this, "We're both employed at a good salary, and look to continue being so employed for the time being" and post them in public, you really are leaving yourself open to a great cosmic beat down.
It's not official. Yet. That won't happen until shortly after the new year, and the terms aren't entirely clear at this point. But the unofficial word is that one of us will not be employed for too terribly much longer. I don't want to say more, because if there is severance offered, I don't want to jeopardize it by being too blabby now. But that's the word from above. The way it appears to be working is that the let-go person is going to be staying on for some period of time, during which time they'll be encouraged to find other employment.
I guess my nanny dilemma has been solved, hasn't it? I didn't even have to get your weigh-in on whether to keep her on or not (bottom line: we didn't feel we were getting the value for the large amount of money we were paying, and we thought Caetlin would do well and be more challenged in a day care setting, but we didn't want to let the nanny go in such a crappy economy, knowing what we know about how her job sustains her family). I just hate to cut her loose into this economy, but that choice is completely out of my hands at this point.
We don't have a huge amount of fat in our budget to cut, though the largest expense that we can cut back is food, mostly because we eat out or takeout way too often. We'll be cooking much more very soon. We already have Caetlin into a day care, though it's not terribly convenient- it's a number of miles in the wrong direction. They at least have room for her. And if other employment isn't found, maybe we won't need day care at all. Being a stay at home parent has been discussed often around here lately, as one possible contingency plan.
Anyway, pray for us that the Charlotte house rents. If it rents even at a lower price than we might like, we'll still probably be okay on one income.
I'm scared. I wanted change, and I can see a lot of ways that this will be for the better for us, and I will be able to look to the future and those positive changes soon, but right now I'm just scared of what will happen to us. There is no market. For anything, really, but certainly not for what we do. I'm scared to make a go of it on one income, mostly because we have the Charlotte house to worry about. If I'm honest, we still have a lot of ways to cut back (cable, we could move someplace cheaper, etc.) without really sacrificing our quality of life all that much. And we have lots and lots of ways to cut back by sacrificing our quality of life, if it comes to that. Our credit will be fine, we will have food on the table and a roof over our heads.
It's just a lot to take in, combined with the emotions that come with this kind of news. Change is being foisted upon us, which is never preferred. I would have liked to have change come on my terms, thank you very much.
It's kind of like that old video game, Punch Out. Did anyone play that, or see/hear it in an arcade? I remember the announcer, when someone got on a particularly good streak, "Body blow! Body blow! Body blow!"
Yeah, it's kind of like that around here lately.
Tuesday, December 16, 2008
Somewhere Over the Rainbow
...is where I would like to be going at about this point. Or Los Angeles. Or Texas. Or New York, or Tokyo. Or heck, even the frozen wastelands of Anchorage or Minneapolis.
It's been a rough couple of days. Work has sucked both in quantity and quality. There has been family drama, and I'm ever more convinced that the way out of being perpetually angry with my family is to move far, far away. I haven't seen enough of Caetlin, and she manages to stab me in the heart with a butter knife every morning when she cries after me, that she wants to go with me. She's also been working on her manipulation, and just today she broke out the trusty, "Why Mommy left?" with the pooched out lower lip and pitiful voice. That's lemon and salt in the butter-knife wound, let me tell you, even when I know she's not serious.
The Animals had it right, I think. We've got to get out of this place/if it's the last thing we ever do/We've got to get out of this place/Girl there's a better life for me and you. I know it's a protest song, but work with me here.
I have to post the obligatory disclaimer: my problems are peanuts compared to everyone else's. We're both employed at a good salary, and look to continue being so employed for the time being. We have our health, and can afford good child care for our healthy daughter. We don't have to worry about transportation or housing or insurance or food or clothing. We've got those basics covered.
In a way, that's almost the problem. My problems will never be serious, because in the grand scheme of things, we have so many other things going our way. It's tough to be a working mom with a small child and another on the way, but it would be tougher if I had to work for minimum wage, so what am I complaining about? It's challenging and exhausting raising a toddler, but it's not like we have to worry about or try to parent a drug-addicted teenager or severely disabled child, so what's my problem? I work long hours, but at least I have a very small commute, so suck it up! I have just as much need to cram my whole life into those two weekend days each week as everyone else, but because we can afford to have someone come in and clean the toilets twice a month and because we have advanced our nanny ridiculous sums of money that she's working off by babysitting at every opportunity, I need to shut up. So many others have it so much harder.
Yes, they do. No doubt about it. But I really resent the "Poor little rich girl" mentality. Money can't buy community. Money can't buy supportive, helpful friends and family. Money can't buy respectful colleagues. And money can't buy time.
You know what else I resent? Having any of this discontent blamed on my pregnancy. I hated this place long before I was pregnant. I'll probably continue hating it long after Segunda is born. I've been lonely, and alienated, and disappointed in the way the great ATL experiment has worked out, for much longer than the 29 weeks I've been gestating.
I don't know if I have a point here. I can say that we remain frantic in our desire and search for getting out of here. The market seems to be keeping us here for the time being, however. Can I bring a false imprisonment charge against the economy? Because I am surely being held here against my will.
It's been a rough couple of days. Work has sucked both in quantity and quality. There has been family drama, and I'm ever more convinced that the way out of being perpetually angry with my family is to move far, far away. I haven't seen enough of Caetlin, and she manages to stab me in the heart with a butter knife every morning when she cries after me, that she wants to go with me. She's also been working on her manipulation, and just today she broke out the trusty, "Why Mommy left?" with the pooched out lower lip and pitiful voice. That's lemon and salt in the butter-knife wound, let me tell you, even when I know she's not serious.
The Animals had it right, I think. We've got to get out of this place/if it's the last thing we ever do/We've got to get out of this place/Girl there's a better life for me and you. I know it's a protest song, but work with me here.
I have to post the obligatory disclaimer: my problems are peanuts compared to everyone else's. We're both employed at a good salary, and look to continue being so employed for the time being. We have our health, and can afford good child care for our healthy daughter. We don't have to worry about transportation or housing or insurance or food or clothing. We've got those basics covered.
In a way, that's almost the problem. My problems will never be serious, because in the grand scheme of things, we have so many other things going our way. It's tough to be a working mom with a small child and another on the way, but it would be tougher if I had to work for minimum wage, so what am I complaining about? It's challenging and exhausting raising a toddler, but it's not like we have to worry about or try to parent a drug-addicted teenager or severely disabled child, so what's my problem? I work long hours, but at least I have a very small commute, so suck it up! I have just as much need to cram my whole life into those two weekend days each week as everyone else, but because we can afford to have someone come in and clean the toilets twice a month and because we have advanced our nanny ridiculous sums of money that she's working off by babysitting at every opportunity, I need to shut up. So many others have it so much harder.
Yes, they do. No doubt about it. But I really resent the "Poor little rich girl" mentality. Money can't buy community. Money can't buy supportive, helpful friends and family. Money can't buy respectful colleagues. And money can't buy time.
You know what else I resent? Having any of this discontent blamed on my pregnancy. I hated this place long before I was pregnant. I'll probably continue hating it long after Segunda is born. I've been lonely, and alienated, and disappointed in the way the great ATL experiment has worked out, for much longer than the 29 weeks I've been gestating.
I don't know if I have a point here. I can say that we remain frantic in our desire and search for getting out of here. The market seems to be keeping us here for the time being, however. Can I bring a false imprisonment charge against the economy? Because I am surely being held here against my will.
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