I'm sure I've had plenty of hilarious things happen to me in the last couple days, but it's hard to remember them sitting alone in a hotel room with crappy food from the Asian food place at the mall around the corner that happens to deliver. Yes, Asian food. Not Chinese, or Thai, or Laotian, but Asian. The panang curry is basically white, so creamy and sweet it tastes like coconut sticky rice with shrimp. The salmon sashimi was actually OK, but there were only 3 pieces, and the pork dumplings are mediocre, with a sauce that is also way too sweet. Why do entrees taste like dessert? Why add sugar to a dumpling sauce? I just don't get it.
Being away from my daughter while I work is tough - I wish I could pick her up and make her giggle, and I feel guilty about being there- but at least I come home at night. When I actually get home and spend the rest of the night feeding her, bathing her, nursing her, and keeping her from gumming the power cords, I admit I sometimes wish for a night alone. But actually being gone for 2 bath times, 2 bedtimes, a swim lesson, and 3 waking ups? I miss her. I've never really missed anyone before. My first summer camp, in elementary school, while the other kids were crying for their mommies or their blankies, I decided I was never going home. I'd make a fort and live Robinson Crusoe style. Turns out, camp only lasts a week and they made me leave.
Working today, I spent my time listening, talking, and thinking about work stuff, but the moment I got back to the hotel I just want to pick her up. It hurts, and it's such a strange feeling. And while it's scary, I love that I have that kind of relationship with someone. Sure, when she's 12 I may feel differently, but what an amazing thing to need someone so certainly, so gutturally.
I honestly worried that I would not love Penny unconditionally and maternally. And yet, despite a life-time of un-connection to other people and the related concerns that I was not emotional enough to truly nurture my child, my happiness is - while not entirely dependent on her (that's just not healthy) -inextricably linked being near her, seeing her smile, hearing her laugh, watching her learn, and knowing I have some part in it all.
So I am reveling in my loneliness. I am basking in my hurt and need. I am a better mother than I thought was possible.
Plus, the crappy food came with fortune cookies, and apparently the one I love is closer than I think.
Thursday, October 28, 2010
Monday, October 25, 2010
Test Run: The Test Run
Since everyone (and his toddler- apparently 90% of toddlers have an online 'presence') has a blog these days, I thought I'd join the bandwagon. I brought some extra wagon tongues in case we have to ford a stream, and I'm a doctor in case little JohnnyPoopFace gets sick.
Except that I'm not a medical doctor, and my daughter's name certainly isn't JohnnyPoopFace. My husband and I at least did that part correctly. In fact, for the purposes of my blog, we'll call her Penny. The rest, well, it's kind of a test run- I'll let you know how it goes.
After a lifetime in education, two years ago I found myself one of those regular hour jobs involving desks, computers, and semi-annual corporate restructuring. It wasn't that I hated teaching, just that the job I had wasn't worth living in a small town in Michigan. I'm not intrinsically opposed to small towns in Michigan, but after two years of scraping my windshield and driving over an hour to Ann Arbor to buy fresh veggies in the winter, I am ethically opposed to my ever living there again. My husband, too. Quaint and lovely it turned out not to be. So we ditched the ice scrapers, moved back to a city, and I found a more lucrative, less time-consuming, and more in-San-Diego job.
And then, 1 year and 5 months later, we had Penny.
I had to come up with a name for this blog because blogger.com told me to. It was very insistent. For a full day the open window asking for a name sat open, while I came up with such classic gems as 'My Blog' and 'I'm going to write stuff even though no one will read it'. I sort of like the latter, but it's a bit unwieldy.
We've decided to run the San Diego Triple Crown of half-marathons in 2011. Run may be overstating it, as I am not a runner, but I have committed to at least jogging the whole thing, thrice. I was the kid on the lacrosse team who played goalie because having small rubber projectiles hurled at me from sticks designed for leverage sounded better than running up and down the field all day. Or even once or twice. Sure, I'm in decent shape and I can walk for days on end (I did walk the Susan G. Komen 3-Day in 2004), but running has always eluded me (and the newly dubbed jugs don't help the matter). So this year is a test run.
Less literally, I settled on 'Test Run' because that what all of this - a career, traveling, cooking, and most of all my new role as mother and dairy farm (I finally understand 'jugs'!)- feels like: a test run. Not that I expect there to be a test, or that I foresee any do-overs or take-backs in the near future. Just that we seem to be making up most of it as we go - so far, pretty well - and that if I screw up I'll just have to make some adjustments for next time. (In case you're concerned for the well-being of my daughter at this point, I have to say that 1) my husband is a great father, and 2) I don't mean that she in her entirety is the test run, but rather that each interaction is a test run for the next, which means that by the time she's about 45 I'll have trouble-shooted the heck out of mothering.)
-CR, currently running on empty (computer battery)
Except that I'm not a medical doctor, and my daughter's name certainly isn't JohnnyPoopFace. My husband and I at least did that part correctly. In fact, for the purposes of my blog, we'll call her Penny. The rest, well, it's kind of a test run- I'll let you know how it goes.
After a lifetime in education, two years ago I found myself one of those regular hour jobs involving desks, computers, and semi-annual corporate restructuring. It wasn't that I hated teaching, just that the job I had wasn't worth living in a small town in Michigan. I'm not intrinsically opposed to small towns in Michigan, but after two years of scraping my windshield and driving over an hour to Ann Arbor to buy fresh veggies in the winter, I am ethically opposed to my ever living there again. My husband, too. Quaint and lovely it turned out not to be. So we ditched the ice scrapers, moved back to a city, and I found a more lucrative, less time-consuming, and more in-San-Diego job.
And then, 1 year and 5 months later, we had Penny.
I had to come up with a name for this blog because blogger.com told me to. It was very insistent. For a full day the open window asking for a name sat open, while I came up with such classic gems as 'My Blog' and 'I'm going to write stuff even though no one will read it'. I sort of like the latter, but it's a bit unwieldy.
We've decided to run the San Diego Triple Crown of half-marathons in 2011. Run may be overstating it, as I am not a runner, but I have committed to at least jogging the whole thing, thrice. I was the kid on the lacrosse team who played goalie because having small rubber projectiles hurled at me from sticks designed for leverage sounded better than running up and down the field all day. Or even once or twice. Sure, I'm in decent shape and I can walk for days on end (I did walk the Susan G. Komen 3-Day in 2004), but running has always eluded me (and the newly dubbed jugs don't help the matter). So this year is a test run.
Less literally, I settled on 'Test Run' because that what all of this - a career, traveling, cooking, and most of all my new role as mother and dairy farm (I finally understand 'jugs'!)- feels like: a test run. Not that I expect there to be a test, or that I foresee any do-overs or take-backs in the near future. Just that we seem to be making up most of it as we go - so far, pretty well - and that if I screw up I'll just have to make some adjustments for next time. (In case you're concerned for the well-being of my daughter at this point, I have to say that 1) my husband is a great father, and 2) I don't mean that she in her entirety is the test run, but rather that each interaction is a test run for the next, which means that by the time she's about 45 I'll have trouble-shooted the heck out of mothering.)
-CR, currently running on empty (computer battery)
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