No Clue

No idea what to title this entry, but I feel a need to write SOMETHING to mark the day before I have to turn in my dossier to a community of my peers. I have approximately 24 hours (32 hours, minus a few for sleep, a few for eating, taking care of A and driving back and forth from home to daycare to work, etc.) Wouldn't you know it--as a more subtle woman would say, "my monthly visitor arrived today."

I was thinking on the way home from daycare this morning--I just want a future and a schedule that I think I can manage. If I can get that, I probably still won't be able to manage it, but at least I'll be in the ball park. When I look into the next few months, I don't see manageability. After I get past this review, that will be my task. Making concerted efforts to see and create manageability in my life. Ebb and flow baby. Talk to me next week and I'll probably be talking about how I just HAVE to add one more thing to my plate. I'm out to prove myself wrong about that.

Wanna Get Away?

Do you ever feel like not existing for a just a little while? No, not that way. I said a LITTLE while. I guess I'm talking about not existing in the meditational sense--an absence of self. Or maybe what I'm thinking of is more like that semi-comatose sleep I had when I was pregnant. Or maybe it's a combination of both of those things. Whatever. I just want a few hours of it right now.

Sometimes I feel like the windshield of my '95 Honda. After a decade of dirt and debrit and all manner of insects and pebbles being thrown at it, it's all scratched up and pitted. Last year a big stone cracked it and I had to get the whole thing replaced. The new windshield was amazingly clear, and I couldn't figure out how I'd gotten used to looking through the old one. So maybe that's what I want for my life, but I hate all the cliches: "a new lease on life," "a fresh start," "tomorrow, tomorrow, I love yaaa, tomorrow..."

In a sense, this blog is giving me what those cliches are talking about. No Blue's Clues or Sesame Street. No laundry. No paper grading or email sending. And a small degree of clarity about my life. It's ultimately very ironic --I have this problem letting other people in to my life but through this blog I am revealing in detail all of the stupid things I do and that I obsess about, and in doing so I feel released, even if temporarily. By revealing that I exist I am achieving that non-existing thing I was wishing for. I absolutely hate how corny that sounds and I hate that it's true. Maybe if I can make it into a snappy cliche other people will have to say it too. That would be funny.

Playdoh Moments

A just got a package of mini containers of playdoh from her Aunt. She's using one of those plastic creatures that sprouts playdoh "hair" by pushing down on its arms. Black, yellow, orange and green were quickly mashed together and squhz out the creature to make some psychadelic looking dreadlocks. By the time she finishes, she will have made one color: toxic brown.

Never mind the fact that I should be working on my review. The morning disappeared, I folded laundry, and took a shower. I went out with the intention of going to my office for tabs for my dossier and somehow ended up making a trip to my Mary Kay lady's house for a restock of purifying freshner no. 2. I stopped first at the Dunkin Donuts drive thru. It's not my fault.

It's quarter to two. A will be napping soon, and I will commence to a simultaneous dossier-work AND stress out session for the next two hours. The house is a mess--toys everywhere, dishes piled up. I didn't even manage the pancakes. For breakfast, A had yogurt, a pineapple cup, and some somewhat stale homeade banana bread which turned out to be pretty tasty once I slathered a generous amount of butter on it and put it in a frying pan for a minute on each side.

I'm looking for a magical door that, after stepping through it, I will emerge looking like I just got a "what not to wear" makeover and feeling like the brilliant social scientist I wish I was. Until then, I'll have to make do with being the sweatpants and t-shirt wearing couch sloucher who works feverishly, hoping to meet the minimum requirements for squeaking through with a renewed two year appointment to the University.

Saturday Morning Pancakes

It's Saturday morning, which can only mean one thing. It is my parental duty to make pancakes and eggs. F$^*! Can I just go to McDonalds? They're so much better than mine anyway. No. A absolutely must have my slightly rubbery Aunt Jemima's or it wouldn't be Saturday. Okay, so damn, that's not true either. A loves McDonald's and so does mommy. But in what can only be termed a herculean effort to stick with what could only loosely be termed a family tradition--and to save money--I will commence with Saturday breakfast as regularly scheduled.

What If...Morbid Thoughts That We Don't Admit To

This is for all the moms out there. Especially those with one child. Do you ever think about what would happen (heaven forbid) if your child died? There's actually a rule that says we're not supposed to talk about this or even think it in order to ward off this potential reality. But we do think about it. I have told myself that every day, every moment with Ais a blessing not to be taken for granted. But...if this fledging blog is in large part about the trials and tribuluations of being a career-oriented wife and mother...then what would happen if she was suddenly not there? Would I have some sad-sack message about the lovely being that she was and keep the links I collected for working moms who were still lucky enough to have their children safe and sound? Would I abandon the blog all together, sign off and never be heard from again? Or what about an alternative reality in which I did the slightly weird thing of commenting every now and then about how old she would be and what she would be doing at "X" age? I suppose I wouldn't think it was slightly weird if I was doing that, it'd just be rationalized as a coping strategy that others might find helpful. NOT. So forget that last option. I guess the bottom line is that in thinking about any important person in my life in this way, I don't know what I would do, think, or say. The only option for me is to keep on with what I'm doing and not speak of this again. Except to say that an idea behind this writing is that it is a healthy thing to recognize the things you've been blessed to have and it is also a good thing to try one's hardest to embrace the changes that life brings. Seeing life changes as opportunities for growth, learning, and becoming more "beautifully human," and all that. I don't think I have to say (though I am about to) that this would probably all be thrown away by me as a load of pollyanna crap if something bad were to happen. But maybe, hopefully, not. Here's to hoping that I won't have to see the opportunity in that kind of change.

My Favorite Things...

I know, I know. It sounds junior highish (nothing wrong with that for anyone reading this who is in junior high...but I'm 34. A line has to be drawn somewhere). Sometimes I need to remind myself that I DO know a little bit about who I am. And maybe when my early onset Alzheimers kicks in, I can come back to my blog and get a reminder about myself. That is, if I remember my web address.
*Sigh.* Anyway, here it is...

Writing
Earl Grey Tea
Corduroy
Coffee
Donuts (Dunkin Donuts, to be exact)
LouLou Perfume
Hearing my 2 1/2 yr old daughter say "I love you mommy. I like hanging out with you."
Body Butter
Reading Short Stories
Sitting in my car at the park listening to "This American Life"
Peanut Butter
Getting my hair done
Internet Window Shopping
Pillows
Good Sex
Going to the movies
Mexican Food and/or Margheritas
Walking at sunrise
A good hug
Being funny (on purpose or otherwise)
Feeling sexy despite unshaved legs and a belly pooch that sticks out almost as far as my boobs
People who make me think about things more deeply or in a different way
Garlic
And of course, my mother.

I did it.

Four in the morning, you know what I'm saying? Hard core. On the grind. Doing what I need to do. Unfortunately, my brain is acting like my 1995 Honda in this cold weather--takes a good while to warm up....
Yesterday I went to Rite Aid and bought my daughter's day care teacher a birthday present. Standing at the cash register, I did a double take and recognized the mom of a girl I used to mentor. We exchanged hugs and I asked her questions about what's going on with TiTi. She's as tall as me now, at eleven, wearing a size 61/2 shoe...they're buying a house and her mom is working at TiTi's elementary school. It was just really nice to talk with her. It was nice to feel as if some of the things I do in this world mean something. Trite but true.

One End of the Candle Went Out

So much for burning the candle at both ends. I have maybe forty five minutes before my mommy day starts so this is just a short post to officially document the fact that I have only that amount of time to finish my statement, take a shower, dress, clean the kitchen....

It's Alive!!!!!!

Well. So much for "extended work time." I'm just getting back to writing a statement of what I've done over the last four years at the University (my internal cynic has conveniently paraphrased this as "not much")...and...I hear a voice from upstairs: "Is it timetowakeupfrommynap? Is it time to get up Mommy?" Gotta love it. (Seriously. She's my world). I yell up to her the usual, "ComeondownSweetiePie!" And just like that, I guess I'm back to the stay-up-till-midnight-get-up-at-four-in-the-morning plan. Hey--don't knock it till you try it. It's been time tested over three generations. Grandma Wright used it, living in Detroit with four daughters, a son, and a job as a seamstress (on and off the books). Mom used it...studying for medical school while we were teenagers. And now, it's coming in handy for me. We should write a manual and make the proverbial million bucks. There'd have to be disclaimers of course: "use of this work method requires a life time dependency on at LEAST three cups of coffee per day (more for optimum success), which may in turn lead to unhealthy dependencies on Dunkin Donuts." Side note: Blogging is THE preferred method of procrastination for professional procrastinators. And now, back to that statement. To all you pre-tenure mothers out there...wish me luck cuz I'll need it...See you at midnight.

Potty Chairs and Tenure Angst

A potty chair and a well-worn baby doll stroller. Winter trees against a white winter sky. Increasing panic over the week I have left to turn in my fourth year review at the University. I hope that further blogs will get much better than this first one. I hope that my daughter stays asleep for just a little while longer...Her two and a half year old self seems to want to sleep less and less but I'll keep going with the nap, baby! I hope I can stay awake till midnight and get up at 4 a.m. for the next few days...The illusive ideal--tenure bound super mom. Can I just be that for the next few days? It's a prayer, a plea, a hail mary.