Binkytown

A month later; Still the best ten minutes and getting better

I wrote this early in July. I've had a few good moments in between now and then, but when I look back, I still think it was the best. I can recall that same sense of calm that I did that day floating with my baby. It makes you wonder how it gets any better.

Then a friend sends an email and says she really liked it and among other things, mentions "I'm glad you're out there".

Mrs.Chicken continues to not only produce stellar writing but she never fails to spread the love.

Welcome back Mrs. C. I'm glad you're out there too. Thank You.

Because she says so

Yes, I am disappointed that I am not going to Blogher.

No, I am not big enough to be happy for those attending.

Nor, do I want to read the blow by blow accounts of how fun & (fill in the blank)it is.

Therefore, I am taking a few days off, sending my kid to school and putting away the boxes that are still laying around from my move two years ago and um, sweating and other very important things.

So you can see I will be VERY busy and can't possibly be reading blogs or writing anything.

Plus, Binky says I rock so I don't have to go to any stupid conference.

Have a lovely weekend. See you Tuesday.

But not before I say Binky, not only is your name dear to my heart, but you write circles around me in your sleep with one hand tied around your back. Thank you.

(Also, if you happen to stop by and know of any cool blogs that don't involve women at Blogher that I should read, please leave me a comment. Just in case I'm all talk).

 

Before I start burning insense and dressing in long flowy skirts

My husband got a call from an old coworker at Company A. He left there about a year and a half ago to pursue a better opportunity at Company B.

He likes his job. Had no plans to leave until the phone rang. In an amazing turn of events, a new hot shot at Company A has heard about everything he did for them before he left and wants to lure him back. Lure is not a strong enough word. They've had a couple of talks and they are at the point where this Company A hot shot has dangled signing bonuses, yearly bonuses, a big fat raise and the opportunity for him to review the existing team and tell them where he thinks he fits in best. When does that ever happen to anybody?   

This is fantastic and all, but you see, I had a plan.

The catch (because there is always a catch) is that there will be global travel involved. The frequency and duration is yet to be determined. This is great for my husband, the doors that would open up for him could potentially be amazing. The doors that would close for me could be loud and heavy.

I called an astrologer two weeks ago. Prior to The Phone Call. This is not something I have ever done before but I have always wanted to. I believe that there is a pattern and rhythm to the universe that we don't or can't or won't see or understand. I know I am exactly what every book written about a Libra has ever said, but that's all I knew. But I saw this endorsement from BMC and that girl is a straight shooter and the astrologer had a website - a fancy one-so I thought what the hell- big life changing decision looming, let's just give it a whirl.

I spent over an hour talking to this woman who is just what I was hoping for- all science and no-crystal- ball-having-sash-on-head-wearing gypsy. (Although, she could have been wearing one for all I know, since we were on the phone, but I doubt it.) She told me high level things that made sense that I probably knew and then speculated on some things that I wouldn't have known but were spookily very true. She also focused on what was happening in my stars today. She said a big change was coming to my home and family life. Only she didn't say it like that, she said it like HOLD ON TO YOUR HAT LADY A BIG CHANGE WAS COMING.

I really want my husband to be happy. I want him to be fulfilled and challenged and of course, well compensated for his hard work. I also don't want to have a nervous breakdown, with a three year old and a possible baby on the way while he's on a flight over the Atlantic. Where do you draw the line between sacrifice- sucking it up for the good of the family and comfort- not making a potential really exciting change because you are afraid to take on too much?

When I started throwing caution to the wind and started giving it up more than once a month in the hopes of having another baby (Three times! In two weeks! Call Guinness book of world records!) taking care of said baby and my other baby and my dog solo for any stretch of time was not in my plan. I guess it could be, but damn it, it wasn't.

Oh the other thing she said, my challenge, my life lesson is to let things unfold as they are meant to and stop controlling every little thing. Huh. If anyone knows how to do that, I'd be happy to know.

Needing

I want this, I need that. I want juice. I need my Beetle. I want my other binky. The list goes on and on. This past weekend I swore I heard the words "I want and I need" come out of my childs mouth more than 50 times by the time the clock struck six-thirty. In the morning.

Wanting is a struggle. Needing something is not the same as wanting it, but that's a concept that is too broad for such a little mind. When he says he needs a cookie, he really thinks he does. I should know better.

I want a lot of things. I feel like a revolving door of shopping bags. Not the fun kind, with a well fitting pair of over expensive (but well fitting!)jeans in them. Mine have graham crackers and shower curtains and swim trunks in a 3T for next year that were only $3.50 and bottles of water and paper towels and laundry detergent.

The division of labor in my house is such that my husband takes care of big house items and I handle the routine day to day operation of things. That includes all the domestic things we need in addition to anything required for our son. It works fine for us and I don't mind being in charge of it, but I feel like this constant consuming has warped my sense of what I really need. I need the mega pack of soap because it's on sale. I need a shiny gift bag instead of plain old wrapping paper because it makes my life easier. I need Thai food because I don't feel like cooking.

None of this is true.

It doesn't even stop there. One peek into my in box reveals emails from Piperl*me, A*di*das and it*nes. I need shoes, hats to keep the sun off my face when I run and audio books for under $10.00.

No I don't. I want them. And sometimes I order them, (oh, the fun. I don't even have to lug it home. It just shows up!) but I find the anticipation and the momentary thrill of opening the box is always greater than what I've got in my hands.

A co-worker recently had another baby. Her new baby, she says, is a diva. She screams whenever and where ever they take her. She told me she looked at her husband and asked him, tell me again why we decided to do this?

My husband has signed on and the official 'trying' has begun. I officially have baby-lust when I see photos of chunky little people in onesies and announcements, I don't just think I do, sort of, a little. It's palpable. It's real.

But the fear is real too; What if I am once again confusing a want for a need? What if I dream of baby, but I wake up in the spoken-of and monotonous reality of life so very fast. What if what I purchase isn't as exciting as the advertisements promise it will be?

I know this is last-chance-to-change-your-mind-worst-case-scenario-ing. Just because I wonder it doesn't even mean I really think it will be.

I just need to ask.

 

Blogher or Bust

Except less BlogHer and more Bust.

I cancelled my reservation at the W today so if anyone hasn't made one yet and wants to, CALL THEM NOW.

Work trips and family obligations made that weekend in July too hard to navigate. I wish this was happening in February when everyone (i.e., me) had nothing better to do.

Wah.

Bearing gifts

She has had three of them. She purchased the first one back home in Cali and gave it to one of our friends for Christmas. Then she bought two more. They are fun chunky rings. The one she still has is a circle, the other two are square, with little bitty round bits in them. Yes, I had had a (strong) cosmopolitan and yes I coveted it and yes, I was feeling left out because when she showed up for lunch on her first afternoon home she pulled a CD out of her purse and handed it to her/my best friend. What do you have for me? I asked, channeling my two year old. That's right. Nothing. Ok. Whatever.

But then she was sitting across from me at dinner with that cool ring on, the one I would never have the time to track down or find on a leisurely shopping trip. Sitting next to her on one side was the friend who got one for Christmas; on the other, the friend who got the CD. Sue, I said, across the noisy table. You need to give me that ring. She's got one. I want one too. You have another, you don't need this one. Give it up. Part of me was just having fun but the other part of me thought I actually deserved it. She's single, goes to fabulous parties, has cute clothes and had taken a nap that afternoon. She had lots of things I wanted in that moment. The least she could do was give me the ring. She refused.

Then soon after she decided to bring up that one time, that one friend did something embarrassing to me in front of everyone else and (good naturedly, the way friends do) LAUGHED at me. Then others joined it. Then I teared up just a little. A teensy bit drunk and sensitive and damn it, wounded during my one night out as a grown up. It was too much. That's it. Give it to me. I stuck out my hand. I mean it, you owe me. Give it to me right now! To my surprise, she did. She still emails asking where it is. I pretend not to know what she's talking about.

As the evening wrapped, Sue and I decided to hang out the following Monday evening. Before I even knew it I had invited us to a third friend's house and asked her husband if he'd cook for us. (He's a chef.) Sure, he agreed. How about pasta with red sauce, fresh mozzarella and fried eggplant? This was shaping up nicely. So I invited a few more friends over. To their house. For dinner. And wine. And told the hosts about it later. I knew they wouldn't mind, but they were still very puzzled, as this was very not like me.   

Tuesday came and my best friend and I were settling into our leather chairs, getting ready for our 20 minute pedicure at the Asian salon in the mall during our lunch break. Two ladies with carts approached. Because I've been going there for some time, I knew one spoke some English, the other not so much. From experience I also knew the one who spoke English was really good. The other, not so much.  My friend grimaced as the not-so-much lady approached. Excuse me, I leaned in, can my friend wait for Annie? I repeated myself, I gestured, I spoke slowly. She got it, said something in Vietnamese and packed up her cart. As I picked up my magazine, I saw my friend looking at me intently. Who are you? she asked.

I am the mother of a stubborn toddler.

I so rarely get out of my mother-bubble that I didn't even realize how assertive parenting has made me. How easily a phrase like 'Give it to me' followed up with a 'NOW' could flow out of my mouth. I didn't even think twice. I wanted it. I demanded it. Before the little man I would have been hesitant to ask for another pedi-lady, I would have been afraid of being perceived as difficult. Ha. I'll show you difficult. I know now it has nothing to do with asking politely for a switch when you know the end result is going to be disappointing.

Given the options, a nap and a fabulous party and a cute top would be really nice, but if I won't have those, a little backbone sure is a nice thing to have.

It matches well with:

my flower toe pedicure &

my ring (It's MINE Sue. Accept it) 

Snippy

I seem to know a handful of new moms or second time moms that are all within around the six month or so time frame. Is it just me or does anyone else notice this to be true?

They all seem to have the same haircut. It's a hot haircut, don't get me wrong. I had this haircut too. At around that same six month or so time frame. Coincidence?

My husband is almost bald. (but as my best friend describes him; bald AND HOT). He shaves his head and while that is a popular style among men, my husband is among the few that can really pull it off. He has a beautifully shaped head. He won't let me post pictures of him here but he looks a lot like him. So much so that my mother in law recently gave me a photo and held it out to my son who exclaimed PAPA! at the sight of it. Although to be fair, he does that at the sight of the Mr. Clean bottle too.

So hair is not a big deal in my house. My husband doesn't miss it, doesn't wish he had it and honestly, I kind of envy him. He wakes up looking exactly the same as he did when he went to bed. He always looks good. I can not say the same.

Like most women, I have a love/hate relationship with my hair. It's about 70 percent love and 30 percent hate and that 30 is only there because it costs a lot to keep it even somewhat presentable. It's thick and wiry and wavy in spots and the most boring dishwater blond you can imagine. So I need a good conditioner and pomade and in the summer, hair spray. I need highlights and regular cuts so my ends don't splinter into a million bits. I need a diffuser, a hair dryer that meets a certain minimum wattage and a hair dresser who has some experience with unruly hair like mine. As much as I like to think I'm low maintenance, my hair is seriously HIGH MAINTENANCE. In bold. 

Which would be an easy explanation why I and maybe others cut their hair off after a new baby arrives, but I don't think it's that simple. My sense of self is strongly tied to my hair. I envy women with cute, short, sassy, stylish hair. I've tried to be that but it's just not me. The shorter my hair goes the more unpredictable it becomes. I've wondered, am I trying to hold onto my youth by refusing to go short again? It's not likely since I didn't have long hair in my teens and early twenties.   

When I cut my hair off after becoming a mom it was much more of a statement. I had CHANGED. Everything had changed. Making that outward transition had everything to do with a reflection of the new persona I felt I had inhabited. The fact that I could get ready in ten minutes was a bonus.

As life began to feel more normal and the momentum returned to a stage that was less intense, my hair slowly grew out back to more what it was before and has been like that ever since.

Did you do the mom cut? Share your hair raising stories.

(Please. I should ask nicely. I've become very demanding. More on that later.)

The best ten minutes of my summer

The sun was hot. I was crabby. I was mad at my husband, just because I was. I was bloated and wearing a really old bathing suit that did not flatter my figure or highlight my midsection the way I imagined it would all these months while depriving myself of Hershey's kisses, picturing me with my friends at the cottage on the lake, where we gather for one day every summer. My boobs and my mood had gone south. It was one of those days when I wonder why he stays married to me, as surly as I can be. Although, without me, there would have been no one to pack the cooler and I'm sure my organizational skills must count for something.

I have been going to this cottage with these friends for at least ten years. It started as a GO GO party (Girls Only Grill Out), back when everyone had boyfriends. Then it became a party for boys and girls. Then boys became husbands and now some of us have kids. I have brought you along every year and with each passing year the car has become a little fuller, I've arrived a little later and have felt more worn out just from the preparation of the day. Kind of like when you've been drinking in the sun all day except it's only noon and I haven't had a drink.

I didn't think you were having fun. Between me watching you and your father watching the dog I felt as if we weren't even at the same party. I started to wonder if we wouldn't be better off just packing everything back up and going home to order a pizza. Before I did though, I wanted to get wet. I wanted to be weightless just for five minutes.

I put your father on duty and grabbed an inner tube. I awkwardly paddled myself out past the pier. I waved to you, hoping you'd see me and change your mind. Maybe you would agree to at least try to let the water touch your toes. You couldn't see me, you were busy with sticks and rocks and things.

Floating, I tilted my head back and closed my eyes. I waited at least five minutes before I opened them again. When I did, I was able to appreciate the beauty around me. The cool lilt of the water as it rippled across my back. The abundance of the green leaves. The sound of the breeze through the trees. Laughter of friends I don't see very often. I saw you standing on the shore. Mama! Mama! You called. 

I paddled furiously to get to you, pleading all the way. Please. I begged you. Please come out here with me. I'll hold you really tight. You won't even get wet. I promise. Please. Just once. Just try. One time, with mama. Please. If you don't like it I'll bring you right back.

Magically, you agreed to strap on your scooby-doo life jacket. I scooted my raft up onto the sandy edge of the water and your father lifted you in, placing you in my lap. With one arm wrapped around you, I used the other to paddle us out slowly, gently, so as not to rock your decision to do this, to try. Lean your head back, I instructed, relax. Your stiff limbs softened. Your head was on my shoulder, your long legs dangled over mine. I could only see you out of the corner of my eye. Your eyes were closed but you were smiling. Open your eyes, babe. This is fun. Look around. And you did.

Mama...GO FAR, You said. YEAH! I said. It was a moment. One of those moments that has made me happy every night since when I have replayed it in my mind, on the edge of sleep, but fighting to stay awake so I could remember how it felt. How we felt. The sun in your gorgeous blond hair. Your eyes more blue than the sky and sparkling, how they sparkled. Your mouth wide open in a smile. I laughed as I watched you with my one eye and my heart was full. You completely let go, something you don't do easily, you trusted me and in turn, my motherly instincts buzzing, I held you with one hand and introduced you to buoyancy with the other. 

In the busy work of our days I lose track sometimes of the magic that is the connection between parent and child. The kind that exists when you share a moment unlike any other you have known before, one that is spontaneous and effortless and unlike many of the responsibilities of parenting, completely without planning or preparation.

You wanted to get out soon, but we stayed at the party for a few more hours. We had homemade apple pie and hot dogs at a picnic table, like you should on a warm summer night. You ran around naked and gave everyone hugs and kisses when we left. Your dad asked me if I had fun on the drive home, when you were sound asleep in the backseat. Yeah, I said wearily, exhausted from the day. Did you? Yeah, he replied. At times it seemed like a lot of work, and I felt myself getting stressed at one point during the day but then I remembered it's all about creating memories and experiences for him. He glanced up to check on you in the rear view mirror, your head bobbing up and down like a rag doll as you slept. After that I had more fun.

I couldn't have agreed with him more. 

Redundancy

Mommybloggers may not always agree. They may not all think breastfeeding rocks. Or that it' s perfectly acceptable to let your toddler watch six hours of Noggin in a day. I might; You might not. (In my defense, it was broken up throughout the day.)

But there is one place where there is consensus. That bloggers care. They care about their kids and your kids and the world we live in and global warming and stupid celebrity crap (Ok, thats me talking again.) Most of all bloggers care about each other. They are capable of providing unwavering support, mostly to people they have never met in real life.

It's likely that you have read and appreciated the two bloggers that I am mentioning here.

Whymommy has recently been diagnosed with a rare and an aggressive form of breast cancer. As she writes on her blog, she also has a 5 month old son, a 2.5 year old son, a wonderful adoring and supportive husband, a fantastic family, and good friends who love her. Not only does she have her wits about her in the most stressful time but she has strength and clarity and a wall that is going up around her. Please share your success stories, your inspiration and your support.

Kate from Sweet I Salty has recently suffered a terrible loss. She has survived what I think is the thing that all mommies fear most. She was expecting twins. Only one will come home. I have tried to leave comments for her that say, we are here. We are holding you up. What I really want to say is that I am astounded by her courage and grace, it just doesn't seem appropriate, given what has occurred over the past few weeks, she doesn't care about that right now. I'd like to think this is my way of telling her - By telling others.

I don't pretend to know what either of these brave mamas need right now, but I know there is power in a comment box, and that's a good place to start.