I could swear I saw my old boyfriend coming out of the Arts Center MARTA station today when I was on my way in. He looked so much like him, except he was taller than I remember him, though my memory could just be playing tricks on me and making me remember him the same height as Bruce, since they are about the same build. If it was him, he's grown his hair back out and let it go all curly frizzy crazy. If it was him, he's put on weight.
If it was him, did he remember me? I looked straight into his eyes as we passed. I don't look that different, do I? I've changed my hair color and style, but not THAT much. I've put on some weight, but who hasn't? I still look like me, right? Would he recognize me if we passed on the street?
It's not unheard of that we might run into each other, I suppose. He moved to Atlanta after college, and started on a tech career right before the bottom dropped out of the tech industry. His Google trail grows cold after that, I'm afraid, though Yahoo people search had a listing for him in Atlanta last time I checked. No one I know from college is still in touch with him, I don't think.
After I saw pseudo-college boyfriend tonight, I went downstairs and stood by the track and ended up facing the wrong way, not looking down the track for my train. I realized I was looking up the stairs to see if he followed me back in. If he did, I didn't see him.
I wish I had a way of knowing he was all right. I hurt him badly, and he is a good person, and I wish I could have spared him that. It was right that we broke up- I went on to do all that I have done, have a ridiculously good marriage and a ridiculously sweet child whom I adore, and a ridiculously satisfying career at which I make a good living. In some parallel universe, several universes over, I stayed with him. What happened to me in that other universe? I can never know, but I'm happy not to find out. I just wish I could know what happened to him, and be satisfied that he's happy now. We did have some good times, after all.
There's no reason whatsoever that he would be, but Smashley (which [not real] name got broadcast all over Hartsfield-Jackson International Airport in an incident which my Alaskan friend may remember), if you're out there and happen to find this, know that I hope you're okay. I Google you every so often. I won't ever contact you, but if we run into each other in the MARTA station, don't be afraid to say hi, okay?
UPDATE: Found him! After a more fruitful than usual Google trolling, I've managed to confirm that he's now a grad student at Georgia Tech. Crazy!
Wednesday, December 19, 2007
Milestones (Growing Older)
Caetlin said her first sentence today, even though we are using a somewhat elastic definition of sentence here. It was at least 2 words strung together to make a complete thought. We were getting ready to walk out the door to work this morning, and Bruce was leading the dog toward the door so he could go potty. Caetlin, finished with her breakfast, toddled after, doing her adorable babbling. Then, at full volume and kind of out of nowhere, "BYE, DOG!"
At least three times, following after the dog as he went outside, "BYE, DOG!"
This feels noteworthy to me. Single words, I can comprehend, but the idea of my just-barely-16-month-old daughter speaking in sentences seems so foreign. Kind of the mental counterpart to my being freaked out by her having teeth as a symbol of her growing up. If she can speak in sentences, that means she's not a baby anymore. Not MY baby. Oh, who are we kidding, she's always going to be my baby! But not literally a baby, which makes me sad, even though she is so much fun and so much easier to deal with.
I guess I ponder these things as we start talking about having another child. I miss Caetlin's babyhood, and the time we spent with her just taking care of her and getting to know her. I want that back, but I know that's not what we'll get with a second baby, since it won't be just the three of us. I'm sure having a second is wonderful in so many different ways that I can't imagine right now, but it won't be the same, and that is some of what gives me pause. What I really want is to recreate that time with her, to get to know the new baby the way we got to know her. I don't know; maybe what I really want is her to be the baby she was again.
Because she's not anybody's baby, not physically, anymore.
Other developments:
New favorite game: saying, "No! No!" to which one of us will respond, "Yes! Yes!" Rinse, repeat.
She has so many teeth now that she looks more like she has gaps where teeth aren't, rather than having isolated teeth in the middle of gums. Relatedly, it's funny to her when she sticks her finger in my mouth and I bite on it gently. For some reason this cracks her up.
She's gotten very adept at getting around the "No standing, no crawling" rule in the bathtub, and has become very adroit at scooting around on her bottom with one knee on the tub floor and one foot behind her. Relatedly, her new favorite game is to stick her face (really just her chin) into the water and laugh like a maniac.
She loves the "Hurry, hurry, drive the fire truck" song that our good friends from California taught us. The last verse is "Slowly, slowly, back to the station," which she'll join in on, often chiming in on that verse throughout the song. Except all she knows is, "Slowly, slowly." So she sings, "slowly, slowly" all through the song.
She's a fan of Ingrid Michaelson's song "The Way I Am," which Mommy sings to her with a few modifications. Specifically, rather than, "Cause I love the way you call me baby," of course the lyric becomes "I love the way you call me Mommy." And, slightly more problematically, "I'd buy you Rogaine/When you start losing all your hair," becomes "I'll buy you product/when you start doing up your hair." It's pretty close, I'd say. Anyway, she seems to like it, my singing voice notwithstanding.
Anyway, she's growing up. I suppose I can't stop that.
For a late Christmas gift for those of you still doing your shopping (yeah, I might be shopping on Christmas eve this year, so sue me), this makes a great- if tear jerking- gift for a parent in your life, especially of a little girl.
At least three times, following after the dog as he went outside, "BYE, DOG!"
This feels noteworthy to me. Single words, I can comprehend, but the idea of my just-barely-16-month-old daughter speaking in sentences seems so foreign. Kind of the mental counterpart to my being freaked out by her having teeth as a symbol of her growing up. If she can speak in sentences, that means she's not a baby anymore. Not MY baby. Oh, who are we kidding, she's always going to be my baby! But not literally a baby, which makes me sad, even though she is so much fun and so much easier to deal with.
I guess I ponder these things as we start talking about having another child. I miss Caetlin's babyhood, and the time we spent with her just taking care of her and getting to know her. I want that back, but I know that's not what we'll get with a second baby, since it won't be just the three of us. I'm sure having a second is wonderful in so many different ways that I can't imagine right now, but it won't be the same, and that is some of what gives me pause. What I really want is to recreate that time with her, to get to know the new baby the way we got to know her. I don't know; maybe what I really want is her to be the baby she was again.
Because she's not anybody's baby, not physically, anymore.
Other developments:
New favorite game: saying, "No! No!" to which one of us will respond, "Yes! Yes!" Rinse, repeat.
She has so many teeth now that she looks more like she has gaps where teeth aren't, rather than having isolated teeth in the middle of gums. Relatedly, it's funny to her when she sticks her finger in my mouth and I bite on it gently. For some reason this cracks her up.
She's gotten very adept at getting around the "No standing, no crawling" rule in the bathtub, and has become very adroit at scooting around on her bottom with one knee on the tub floor and one foot behind her. Relatedly, her new favorite game is to stick her face (really just her chin) into the water and laugh like a maniac.
She loves the "Hurry, hurry, drive the fire truck" song that our good friends from California taught us. The last verse is "Slowly, slowly, back to the station," which she'll join in on, often chiming in on that verse throughout the song. Except all she knows is, "Slowly, slowly." So she sings, "slowly, slowly" all through the song.
She's a fan of Ingrid Michaelson's song "The Way I Am," which Mommy sings to her with a few modifications. Specifically, rather than, "Cause I love the way you call me baby," of course the lyric becomes "I love the way you call me Mommy." And, slightly more problematically, "I'd buy you Rogaine/When you start losing all your hair," becomes "I'll buy you product/when you start doing up your hair." It's pretty close, I'd say. Anyway, she seems to like it, my singing voice notwithstanding.
Anyway, she's growing up. I suppose I can't stop that.
For a late Christmas gift for those of you still doing your shopping (yeah, I might be shopping on Christmas eve this year, so sue me), this makes a great- if tear jerking- gift for a parent in your life, especially of a little girl.
Still Alive
So, the deal closed. Very successfully.
I'm still alive, and after a good night's sleep (though I still need more), feeling much more like something resembling human.
I didn't have to go to NY after all. The closing got pushed back one day to yesterday, and so everyone agreed that with the extra time, I could do my work just as easily here as I could there. And it all got done, albeit with little sleep on my part. While I always enjoy the city and adore my colleagues up there, I was so glad not to go this time. Sleeping in my own bed, even if I wasn't doing terribly much of that, was priceless.
Now I'm onto the business of closing the deals that are closing tomorrow, and working myself back into the rest of my life, meaning cleaning the house, getting to know my daughter again, buying Christmas presents, all the sundry things that just got put on hold because there was no time to do them.
Anyway, that's where I am. I was on the call that funded the deal yesterday, and I sent the email to allow my client's money go where it should, and I was buzzed for a good couple hours afterward. And then I left early to get some shopping done, and I hardly looked at my Blackberry all evening, and then I felt free.
I'm still alive, and after a good night's sleep (though I still need more), feeling much more like something resembling human.
I didn't have to go to NY after all. The closing got pushed back one day to yesterday, and so everyone agreed that with the extra time, I could do my work just as easily here as I could there. And it all got done, albeit with little sleep on my part. While I always enjoy the city and adore my colleagues up there, I was so glad not to go this time. Sleeping in my own bed, even if I wasn't doing terribly much of that, was priceless.
Now I'm onto the business of closing the deals that are closing tomorrow, and working myself back into the rest of my life, meaning cleaning the house, getting to know my daughter again, buying Christmas presents, all the sundry things that just got put on hold because there was no time to do them.
Anyway, that's where I am. I was on the call that funded the deal yesterday, and I sent the email to allow my client's money go where it should, and I was buzzed for a good couple hours afterward. And then I left early to get some shopping done, and I hardly looked at my Blackberry all evening, and then I felt free.
Thursday, December 13, 2007
Memories
I remember what this is like. The quiet of the office after everyone has gone home, the strange feeling of freedom that comes with knowing you could turn cartwheels and no one would know (except possibly the security guards, who come on my floor at about 11 and 2). If you're like me, you never turn cartwheels. I remember the utter loathing I acquire for the office, which is as cosy as I can make it, as a result of just being there too much. The empty streets driving home at all hours, not a soul around. I usually drive with the window down those nights, no matter the weather, because I'm in such need of fresh air, of bright colors that aren't filtered through glass, of some reminder of the world away from the fluorescent lights that never change, never wax and wane, never turn different colors depending on clouds or wind or season.
I remember the agony every night- can I stop yet? Feeling guilty and panicked about what remains undone, I can't stay awake any longer. Wake up, feeling like shit, 4 or fewer hours later thinking, "I should have gotten up earlier." I remember the shakiness, the upset tummy, the appetite suppression, the headache, that are caffeine side effects.
I remember all this from my previous employer, and it was why I left the firm, in part. Because at the time I was working that hard, I didn't have Caetlin, and it still sucked badly. Now it just makes me want to cry on a daily basis, because I don't see her for more than about 20 minutes a day. I haven't given her a bath in almost a week; only because I was irresponsible and came home for an hour and a half last night did I get to read to her for the first time this week. It's almost unbearable to not see her. I don't know how parents who don't or can't see their children manage it. It breaks my heart on a daily basis.
I have to go to NY tonight through Monday. I am hopeful that things will be a little slower so I can rest, and more importantly, have some Mommy-Daughter time when I get back.
It's hard to reconcile my desires though, because this deal is a big professional opportunity for me. I remember the crappy work schedule from my previous work, but I also remember the enormous satisfaction I get from my work, especially these kinds of deals. If I'm not careful, I will gain a reputation as the go-to person for short-notice no sleep kinds of deals and then I'm in the same boat. But part of me wants that reputation, wants people to see how hard core I am about work. I am totally conflicted.
Not about how much this sucks, mind. Not about that. Those memories have come back to me with a vengeance.
I miss my baby girl. and my husband
Wish me luck on our closing.
I remember the agony every night- can I stop yet? Feeling guilty and panicked about what remains undone, I can't stay awake any longer. Wake up, feeling like shit, 4 or fewer hours later thinking, "I should have gotten up earlier." I remember the shakiness, the upset tummy, the appetite suppression, the headache, that are caffeine side effects.
I remember all this from my previous employer, and it was why I left the firm, in part. Because at the time I was working that hard, I didn't have Caetlin, and it still sucked badly. Now it just makes me want to cry on a daily basis, because I don't see her for more than about 20 minutes a day. I haven't given her a bath in almost a week; only because I was irresponsible and came home for an hour and a half last night did I get to read to her for the first time this week. It's almost unbearable to not see her. I don't know how parents who don't or can't see their children manage it. It breaks my heart on a daily basis.
I have to go to NY tonight through Monday. I am hopeful that things will be a little slower so I can rest, and more importantly, have some Mommy-Daughter time when I get back.
It's hard to reconcile my desires though, because this deal is a big professional opportunity for me. I remember the crappy work schedule from my previous work, but I also remember the enormous satisfaction I get from my work, especially these kinds of deals. If I'm not careful, I will gain a reputation as the go-to person for short-notice no sleep kinds of deals and then I'm in the same boat. But part of me wants that reputation, wants people to see how hard core I am about work. I am totally conflicted.
Not about how much this sucks, mind. Not about that. Those memories have come back to me with a vengeance.
I miss my baby girl. and my husband
Wish me luck on our closing.
Tuesday, December 11, 2007
Some Small Comfort
I'm making myself late for getting ready for to work posting this, and I only have time to post these couple. But...
These are from Halloween, obviously, and her costume was too big for her. She's the cutest little dragon ever!
I'm posting this for myself, because God knows I'm not seeing much of the real thing lately.
Monday, December 10, 2007
Smooshed
So, see the time stamp on this post? Yeah, I'm juuuust getting home from work. At 3:30 on Monday morning. And I didn't get even half of what I needed to get done, done.
So, tomorrow (which starts in, oh, 4 hours) will be a busy day. And Tuesday will be busy too. Wednesday- still busy. See where I'm going with this? My kid is going to be heading off to college when I finally get to see her again for more than 20 minutes.
A very small part of this is my fault. I shouldn't have gone out of town this weekend. But in one huge sense it was worth it- it will probably be the last time I get any significant time to play until Christmas, possibly later. So I feel no guilt (okay, a little, I am Catholic after all).
So, the docs are out. No doubt my clients are sleeping warm in their beds and will awake refreshed and ready to turn them back far sooner than I want them to. I have my trusty to-do list all teed up in the middle of my excessively messy desk, ready to face the morning (shudder). Tomorrow is a long day, and while the sleep I will get would have been inadequate no matter what, I must make the most of it.
And so, to bed. Posting to resume (with photos!) as soon as I can manage to get 7 good hours of sleep. In a row.
Hey, a girl can dream, right?
So, tomorrow (which starts in, oh, 4 hours) will be a busy day. And Tuesday will be busy too. Wednesday- still busy. See where I'm going with this? My kid is going to be heading off to college when I finally get to see her again for more than 20 minutes.
A very small part of this is my fault. I shouldn't have gone out of town this weekend. But in one huge sense it was worth it- it will probably be the last time I get any significant time to play until Christmas, possibly later. So I feel no guilt (okay, a little, I am Catholic after all).
So, the docs are out. No doubt my clients are sleeping warm in their beds and will awake refreshed and ready to turn them back far sooner than I want them to. I have my trusty to-do list all teed up in the middle of my excessively messy desk, ready to face the morning (shudder). Tomorrow is a long day, and while the sleep I will get would have been inadequate no matter what, I must make the most of it.
And so, to bed. Posting to resume (with photos!) as soon as I can manage to get 7 good hours of sleep. In a row.
Hey, a girl can dream, right?
Tuesday, November 27, 2007
Update
I'm C-R-A-Z-Y busy at work, spending way too much time with my nose in a computer and far too little time with Caetlin and Bruce, but I wanted to provide a couple of quick updates, if for no other reason than to get that depressing post off the top.
First- Thanksgiving. Apparently, Caetlin will only eat mac and cheese if she can easily recognize it as mac and cheese, because she didn't like the homemade mac and cheese that was presented at Thanksgiving dinner. It was fabulous, so more for me. Also, turkey by itself is really bland, a point that was driven home to me by Caetlin- who is a resolute and happy carnivore- tasting, and then leaving, her turkey.
She was a real trooper, being dragged hither and yon, meeting so many new people. I'll try to post more about it all later (and yes, I know I still owe vacation pictures. I'll get to them. Some day. Expectations shouldn't be too high here- I still haven't put my wedding album together yet. Over three years later).
On the way home, she slept nearly all the way, and while I at first thought it was just because she was tired, after we got home I realized that she was burning up with fever. We dosed her with Motrin and tried to keep her comfortable, but she kept screaming (NOT like her, even when she is sick), so we took her to the emergency room. They determined that it wasn't her ears, and have done a urine culture, but Caetlin is feeling MUCH better today, after having spent a couple of days cranky and feverish. I strongly suspect that it was a reaction to the chicken pox vaccine that she received a week ago last Monday, though it was quite a more dramatic reaction than I was led to expect.
Anyway, she's happy and feeling better. All is right with the world.
Must get back to work now. More later.
First- Thanksgiving. Apparently, Caetlin will only eat mac and cheese if she can easily recognize it as mac and cheese, because she didn't like the homemade mac and cheese that was presented at Thanksgiving dinner. It was fabulous, so more for me. Also, turkey by itself is really bland, a point that was driven home to me by Caetlin- who is a resolute and happy carnivore- tasting, and then leaving, her turkey.
She was a real trooper, being dragged hither and yon, meeting so many new people. I'll try to post more about it all later (and yes, I know I still owe vacation pictures. I'll get to them. Some day. Expectations shouldn't be too high here- I still haven't put my wedding album together yet. Over three years later).
On the way home, she slept nearly all the way, and while I at first thought it was just because she was tired, after we got home I realized that she was burning up with fever. We dosed her with Motrin and tried to keep her comfortable, but she kept screaming (NOT like her, even when she is sick), so we took her to the emergency room. They determined that it wasn't her ears, and have done a urine culture, but Caetlin is feeling MUCH better today, after having spent a couple of days cranky and feverish. I strongly suspect that it was a reaction to the chicken pox vaccine that she received a week ago last Monday, though it was quite a more dramatic reaction than I was led to expect.
Anyway, she's happy and feeling better. All is right with the world.
Must get back to work now. More later.
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