Not that I was exactly succinct in my last reflection, but I keep thinking of other big and small things that are true of my life now. The beautiful thing is, this is my blog, so I can put them all here! Lucky you.
- My nails are WRECKED. I have no idea why. When the Fustible was a newborn I figured it was because it was winter and I was washing my my hands so much. Now, it’s the mildest winter ever and (I confess) I don’t wash my hands as obsessively as when she was only a few weeks old. But still, my nails still just peel and shred and chip and shatter, more than they ever did before. Is it stress/lack of sleep? Malnutrition? Carelessness and distraction when doing stuff like grating cheese and prying outlet covers out of the wall? All of the above.
- Nothing else that I used to stress about seems that important anymore. This is not some self-righteous philosophical thing, like, “Nothing compares to the majesty and importance of forming a human mind!” On the contrary: my expectations for overall success have been lowered so much that no day seems that bad on balance. Oh, I’ll still get frustrated or overwhelmed or tired or angry. I don’t mean that I’m now unflappable. Hardly. Indeed, I am probably more flappable because, as noted elsewhere, these days I don’t have lots of patience to spare for fools. But whereas previously someone’s snippy email would ruin my day, now, I’ll get pissed off, rant a little bit, and then at the end of day, shrug and walk out happily because no one died and now I get to go pick up the babe. I’m not really intimidated by anyone because no matter what happens, they probably won’t head butt me in the chin, pull my hair, and sob piteously as though the world is ending (though this may happen in other departments). Passive aggressive, weirdly competitive dudes interrupting each other and acting like I’m to blame for…something? I’m not scared. Today we got the baby to daycare, dropped one car off for an oil change, got to work on time, rolled from meeting to meeting right up til 5:15, hauled a load of tablecloths belonging to work home to launder (DEFINITELY not part of our job descriptions…), picked up the car where we learned that our rear brakes are essentially out and need to be replaced immediately for a mere $400, got the baby, walked the dog, and met friends out for dinner. And dinner took FOREVER–an hour waiting for a table and another hour to get our food. 18 months ago, my takeaway would have been “What an annoying and exhausting end to an annoying and exhausting day!” Today, I was like, we KILLED this day! I can’t believe we survived! We rule! Best day ever!”
- I weigh more than I ever have in my life and I just don’t really care. When the Fustible was born I was already at a lifetime max weight. And then I put on 10 pounds in like two weeks. I was such a fool–I had all these plans, that since I had *not* just given birth, I was going to get SO MUCH EXERCISE bouncing the baby at home all day instead of sitting at my desk. Lol. On the contrary, I never exercised again and I ate only frozen pizza for months. And also I turned 30 and now it apparently takes more than skipping a couple of cookies to lose weight. Weirdly? I don’t mind how my body looks now. I even kind of like it. In most pictures now I look exponentially happier now than I did in 2012 when I was 25 pounds lighter. And I don’t spend hours every day tracking food intake and calories. So be it. The main downside is that probably 2/3 of my wardrobe is now off limits. If I lost 10 pounds I’d get a lot of clothes “back” and it would bring me down from the boundaries of the unhealthy weight zone. When I do buy new things, I get things that fit properly, but I’m surely not going to replace everything (or if I do, it will take another 10 years). Look, I do know that claiming to be happy with my body shape is no excuse for not exercising: I need to exercise, not necessarily or only to lose weight but because it helps regulate my moods, and because I need to be strong and flexible and fit to chase the baby around and not throw out my neck or back or knee every time I pick her up. (“Lift with your legs” was clearly not invented by anyone who ever lived in a house of baby gates, cribs, playpens, etc.). And also, not just for her but for me, because I should take good care of myself. I know, I know, I know. And that’s all I’ll say on this for now.
- My cycles are shorter. No, not those cycles. What I mean is, the ups and downs and round and rounds of life are compressed. For example, anyone in a very long term relationship will know that your relationship is not always the same. Sometimes for a few weeks or months it will be just like when you first fell in love–fun and happy and sexy and easy. Then you’ll go through weeks and months where you’re brittle and tense and arguing and just nothing seems to fit right and you wonder what happened to your life. And other times you’re more like roommates or even neighbors, just acquaintances moving through each other’s space. And then you’re in love again. Now? Instead of over weeks or months, we go through all of these phases almost every single day. Sometimes multiple times. Likewise, I used to think of days as morning, afternoon, and evening. Now each of those has at least three or four sub-sections (pre-breakfast, post-breakfast-pre-nap, nap, post-nap, pre-lunch, etc.), and each of *those* might contain time for work, play, rest, food, cleaning, reading, and cat-chasing. Round and round and round we go. Do something. Correct. Iterate. Parenting is basically living life according to the agile development model.
- My hair is the longest it’s ever been, ever. Like, by a lot. I barely wash it (I was always skeptical of those women who said they didn’t have time to wash their hair but, nope) and I barely brush it. This seems to be the best possible way to treat my hair. It’s never looked so good–wavy and golden and shiny and voluminous. Hey, maybe all the cells from my nails are going into my hair instead for some reason? I guess I should probably cut it someday but, eh. Why? I can always go pixie again and I’ll probably go to my grave that way, but these are probably my last years of mermaid hair.
- It pays to diversify your diaper situation. We do mostly cloth diapers when we can and when it makes sense to. But there are times when it doesn’t. The best thing about having both on hand is that you’re pretty much never out. I am the kind of person who will always be out of gas when I need to get to the airport, out of milk when all I want is cereal, out of flour when I want to bake, etc. I’m not great at planning ahead for supplies. I definitely would have died on the Oregon Trail. So: I would *definitely* have been That Mom at Meijer frantically buying diapers at 11 p.m. Every week. Practically my favorite thing about cloth diapers is that they are literally always in your house. We buy one large box of disposables probably every 3 months to swap or supplement as needed. And between the two? Never. Out. Of. Diapers. Thank God!
- Speaking of diapers, diapers are the only thing that lasts. Bumbo seats, pacifiers, walkers, Sophie the Giraffe, sleep sacks, infant bathtubs–all these things that you stock up on, and then they’re just over, done, in the blink of an eye. But not diapers. Diapers are forever. We are probably not even halfway done with diapers. Sigh.
- I thought when we stopped buying formula we would suddenly have a lot more disposable income but it was cruel lie.