Getting my shit together

I hope my mum doesn't read this post because she hates it when I swear. If only she knew that my first instinct in most situations to swear. I find it to be very effective. Mum, on the other hand, wisely taught me that we can always find a better word, a word less caustic and more becoming of her daughter. Unfortunately, once I left home and joined the big world of college roommates who shopped at the Gap (I had only ever heard of it in movies, but I've since made up for lost time), drank lemon drop martinis, and swore like sailors, I threw her advice to the side. I blame them, yes, but they gave me so many wonderful things, too, that I just can't hold it against them.

So today I'm not talking about organizing my day or my responsibilities as a parent who works at home. No. I'm talking about getting my shit together. My lack of energy over the past year has given way to some terrible habits. I feel like there are pieces of me all over the place. My shit is a mess.
Sorry, mum, but there just isn't any other way of saying it. Please forgive me.

Here are some of the symptoms: twice in the last week I have gone to the trouble of arranging to borrow my grandfather's car (Matt takes our only car to work) so that I could run important errands, like Shira's two-year check up, and twice I have forgotten to take the car seat out from our car to use in the borrowed one. The first time I had to cancel our plans, the second I was able to find one to borrow at the very last minute (thanks, Aunt Jo, again). This is an easy one to solve: prepare your day the night before. Easy, right? Not so much. When you feel overwhelmed by everything and you're moving at the pace of a slug, preparing the night before seems unimaginable. With long days spent at home, often working in circles (hence, needing to get my shit together), I resist planning for the next day with great determination. It doesn't make sense: the next day will be easier if I take some time to plan beforehand. I get it.

Matt will often try to encourage me to plan ahead. Around dinnertime he'll ask me, so what are your plans for tomorrow? Is there anything I can do to help? Yes, he's that supportive. But in an annoying way. He is so incredibly good at organizing his time and preparing in advance, and no matter how much I complain, I'm jealous. If you were to ask Matt what time he'll be leaving for work the next day he would tell you that since he has to stop for gas he'll be leaving at 5:19 am. I can honestly declare that I have never in my life planned my departure down to a minute. Now, I'm not beating myself up about not being just like Matt. We all have our strengths, and one of mine is spontaneity, and the ability to be really present in a given moment (because my mind isn't busy planning and keeping myself on schedule). I couldn't give this up about myself even if I wanted to, and I don't. But I would like to make my life a bit easier, and I know making a habit of planning my day the night before, getting paperwork and lunches and meeting times together, will do just that.

Here's another symptom: I spend my day wandering around the house. I'm not a lazy person, even with my low energy, but the disorder of my days, sometimes due to lack of planning, other times the result of feeling like so much of my life is in flux, makes me feel as though I have one hundred things to do and I can't seem to get started on even one of them. I'm not sure where to begin, so I wander from room to room, picking up toys, washing dishes, checking an email, responding to a student, reading one page of a cookbook. Rinse and repeat. Some of this disorder is simply a reality of working from home. There are schedules for the girls (school, naps, a million snack breaks), deadlines to meet, cleaning to do, and all of these things happen in little bits throughout the day. I  can't always decide to spend the next two hours doing a particular task because I will be interrupted roughly one thousand times by Alyce and Shira. Working at home means flexibility (which is wonderful), but it also means that I do much of my work at inopportune times. Lately this flexibility has felt oppressive, hence the need to get my shit together.

So what do I do? I have a pretty good idea. I need to sit back and consider all of the tasks I need to get done, think about my time, and separate my day as best as I can. I can't do everything, no matter how hard I try. And sometimes, just sometimes, I need to say no to making an impromptu batch of muffins because I know it will mess up the schedule I have set for myself, and no matter how good those rhubarb and strawberry muffins will taste (which will be made tomorrow, as per my schedule), I need to wait. One of my tasks this weekend is to outline all of my responsibilities and think, really think, what I need to do to incorporate these into my day. I'll get back to you with what I learn.

A lot of what I'm thinking about lately has to do with wanting to feel excited about my days. I can't always love everything I do, but I owe it to myself, and to my family, to live my life a bit lighter. Andrea Scher wrote a post last week asking, Do you know what it feels like to lose your sparkle? That's how I feel, like I've lost my sparkle. I'm usually sparkly, and I miss that. Getting my shit together is going to help me get it back.

The photos today are from my last 24 hours on Instagram. You can follow me there @mostdaysiwin.

New routines

Alyce asked me yesterday if any of the Grand River ducks would like some of her stickers. I told her if they didn't want some of her stickers then they were cruel, soul-less creatures. Actually, I told her that we can't litter stickers in the river, but I wanted to say the other thing. It was a mild and un-January like day, and since we had some time between appointments in the afternoon (a doctor and a swim class), we took advantage of the opportunity to take a walk by the river.

This week is my first real welcome back to staying home with The Children during the day. I am doing some contract work that I can work on in the evenings and I've sent Matt out to find a job. I know from experience that looking for work takes a lot of time and energy, so I've given Matt the space to spend the days doing all the things one does to find work (researching positions, making contacts, submitting applications). He did that for me while he stayed home with Alyce and Shira, so now it is my turn. I have a good feeling about him, as though a really amazing opportunity is going to open up. He deserves it.

Isn't it strange trying to figure out if it's best to work and pay for daycare, or have one parent stay home with your children? Daycare is so much money (and difficult to find at all if you didn't get your name on a list years before), never mind the maneuvering to find care for Alyce before and after kindergarten on the days she's in school. Honestly, it makes my brain hurt. I know a lot parents both work because in addition to the income they enjoy the work they do (but I imagine it is still hard for  a parent to know that they're bringing home only a few hundred dollars after daycare costs). I know that one day this will be the case for Matt and I, but for the time being I'm going to stay home with these two while Matt works. I must admit: I love staying home with them. Even on days, like yesterday, when Alyce tried my patience and argued with me approximately 439 times, it was good to be here.

Today is a school day, so it's an even softer welcome back to home week for me. Shira is happy to be my sidekick, and even accepted my invitation for a hair cut (see her before and after pictures above). She is over the moon that my boobs I am home with her again and we're redeveloping a routine. So far today it involves a little cleaning, some cooking, trying on every hat and mitten in the house, and, this afternoon, a trip to return our library books. But for the time being, she naps.

Please keep it between us that Shira is sleeping with Alyce's unicorn.

Oh, internet, you did it again: some updates

A lot has happened lately on account of this little blog. Can I just start out by saying, can you believe people read this thing? I'll always be amazed. Whatever your reasons for finding yourself here, thank you for visiting.

The internet is a crazy place, isn't it? I prattle on about The Children and boobs and figuring out life with my family, and then (some) people read it. I've mentioned before how grateful I am for the space that the internet provides me for working through the crazies and sharing a little bit about the world as I see it, but I'll say it again: the community of bloggers, of people who parent, cook, eat, create, read, and think, is an amazing place to inhabit. I've learned a lot, shared too much a bit, and regularly spit coffee out of my nose (the good kind of nose-spitting, I promise). Most Days I Win is a place for me to practice my writing, seek advice, and generally just share in the amazing things that arise from the day-to-day business of growing our family. It is most of all a space where I can think through the things that count most to me, including the world in which I raise my children. And this is why I have recently used this space to write about my feelings on discovering that my Alyce and Shira's doctor has been charged with producing child pornography, and about my decision to leave a hostile working environment. I wanted to give you some updates on both of these situations:

1. My children's doctor might be a child pornographer. After posting a few weeks ago about how frightening it was to consider that my children might have been in danger from their own doctor, I was contacted by the head doctor of our medical clinic. She reached out to me after having read my post and shared with me how, as both a doctor and a mother, she was devastated by the charges against Dr. Speight. And of course she was, but it mattered to me that she said so. She also offered to find our family a new female doctor, and as I mentioned before, finding a new doctor not an easy thing to do around here. In a matter of days we have now secured a new doctor who is ready and willing to help us move forward. Thank you so much, from our entire family.

2. So I quit my job. If you read my original post (to which I have since made changes), you'll already be familiar with my experience working these last couple of months. Last week I told you about how the working conditions at my office were such that I heard racist and hateful comments throughout my day. I was regularly offended, uncomfortable, and ashamed that I remained silent. Although I have never mentioned the name of the company I worked for, or even hinted at the industry, my post made its way back to my former office and made some people very unhappy. I was contacted almost immediately by my temp agency (on behalf of my former employer) and asked to remove all sections from my post that suggested any hint of the unprofessionalism or racism I witnessed there.

I was taken a little by surprise by their request. First I had to come to terms with the fact that anyone outside my circle of friends had even read my post, and then I immediately became very stubborn about the whole thing. I had taken what I thought were the steps to ensure that I was respecting the boundaries of my colleagues, never once referring to individuals, or characterizing anyone in the slightest. I didn't exaggerate a single comment (not that I'm ever prone to, ahem, exaggeration), nor did I reveal anything that hadn't been said in front of my entire office--about thirty people. I did not betray anyone's confidence or say anything out of turn. My intent was only to describe the environment of my former office while making a larger point about how racism in the workplace (or in any place) can't be tolerated. I wasn't splitting the atom, but just pointing out what should be obvious to everyone at this point. Except, it turns out, it wasn't obvious to my former colleagues.

Then why did I make changes to my original post? Why did I remove the specifics about what I heard in my office? Because ultimately my blog is a positive space, and I want it to remain that way. I see this blog as a place where I settle in and share with you a few things that have stuck with me throughout the day, or about things I hope to do and learn and enjoy. My original post was angry--for good reason--and though my observations were truthful and respectful of my colleagues' privacy, I didn't feel comfortable with the tone of my post. I had wanted to share my experiences with you, the internet, because I was so horrified that young professionals--educated and of this generation--could speak this way about other people. I was disappointed in them for behaving this way and disappointed with myself for not standing up for others. I turned to this space to share these feelings, but what ended up happening sounded a bit too much as though I was just complaining to complain, as though I'd left a job and wanted to gossip. Another reason I felt comfortable removing some of the specifics? Because I was heard, loud and clear. I can't offer you any details, but I will tell you that my complaints have become, um, "actionable." Amen to the internet.

I'm still a little uncomfortable with having edited my original post after the fact, but it was the right thing to do, for me. I like my space here, and I hope you do, too.

Daily communication

  

Matt and I used to spend a lot of time together. Between the flexible hours of his previous job and my staying at home with The Children, we rarely spent time apart. Now that I'm back at work (at my temp job for now), we've had to change how we communicate. No longer able to just wander in the kitchen for a conversation, now, with thanks to our beloved iphones, we send texts and photos back and forth all day long. Matt sends me updates about his day and photos of Alyce and Shira (do you like her new winter coat?), and I send him photos of recipes I write down on post-its, hoping he'll start dinner before I get home. As mundane as our messages can be, they keep me sane. I need the reminder right now, that some things haven't changed. When my life feels so upside-down, I rely on these constant little messages from home. We're still here. You're missed. Alyce just asked for her millionth snack. Where are Shira's boots? I receive these details on my phone and all feels right in the world. 

What keeps you sane when you're away from home? Do you want Matt to send you messages, too?

Why I don't want you to call me a girl

I have a vagina. There, I've said it.

I love being a woman. I'm sure being a man is fabulous, too, but I know nothing of being a man. I also loved being a girl. Sure, there were some downsides, like the pressure to be thin and having to put up those obnoxious guys in school who rated your sex-worthiness as you walked down the hall between classes (note to self: fix the world so that doesn't happen anymore), but there were so many other wonderful things about my years as a girl. I got to wear dresses and pointe shoes, have slumber parties, fall in love, and have girlfriends. You know another great thing about being a girl? Dreaming about all the things you'll be and do when you grow up. At various points in my own girlhood I considered paleontologist, flower arranger, ballerina, doctor, lawyer, ballerina, and professor. Scratch that last one.

And I still love girls, especially MY girls. I completely lucked out having two perfectly delicious daughters who, I hope, will also come to love being a girl, however that looks to them. While it seems that Alyce has planted herself firmly on the side of princess, maybe Shira will enjoy being a girl because of the sports she will play or mountains she will climb. Either way, Alyce will still probably make her wear a Cinderella dress while she does all these marvelous things. 

However.

I am no longer a girl. And this post is dedicated to the man in my office who continues to call me one as he passes by my desk each day. "How are you girls doing today?" he asks me and my temp-mate (we're both on a short-term contract with the company), probably unaware of how my blood boils with each passing question.

I am no longer a girl. I have worked for years in school, earning two degrees (and some of a third). I have grown and birthed two babies. I have a family and I am responsible for them. I worry about how to put food on the table and clothes on their backs. I am a grown woman who deserves respect for all the things that I've done and all the things I might do. I might be temp who enters boring data all day into a computer, but I am not your office girl. I am also about ten years older than you, so zip it.

I am struggling with so many things right now. I still can't find permanent, non-terrible employment. Matt still can't work outside the home and faces his own challenges staying at home with the girls each day. What I don't need to struggle with is this condescending crap at work. I have earned so much more than that.

I resist change

 At the office each day, I have the world’s greatest party trick. All day long, as the hours slowly pass, my boobs just get bigger and bigger. They aren’t small in the morning, and by the end of the day, watch out. Someone might get hurt.

Do you want to know my secret? Breastfeed a baby for almost eighteen months and then leave the house for 10.5 hours a day. Then keep nursing her in the morning and before bed (and all day long on the weekends), and you’ll trick your body into thinking your not weaning, but instead still need to produce lots of milk. Then watch boobs grow. And grow.

To say that I miss The Children isn’t quite right. It’s more like I’m not sure how to understand my day without them, how to step away from their days. Our days. My body (see above, re: boobs) and my heart are resisting the adjustment of it all, and instead seem to be doing everything in their power to keep reminding me to go home. Home! they tell me, you’re needed at home! Plus if you’re at home, you won’t have to enter data!

Shira, in her way, is handling my going to work swimmingly. If I’m home she’ll ask to nurse every other hour, and when I walk through the door at the end of my work day she greets me expectantly, but during the day she’s just fine. In fact, I think she quite enjoys all her time with her Papa. Alyce, on the other hand, deals with life in a different way. She, too, enjoys bossing Papa around, and in many ways she seems to have adjusted to this new normal. In the morning, during the six minutes I spend with her before leaving for 10.5 hours, she’s all business: she doles out hugs, kisses, compliments (on my outfit), suggestions (here, wear this necklace, too), and advice (drive safely). And when I come home each night she’s right there to welcome me back. The resistance comes in her renewed commitment to not listening on the weekends, which we could all do without, but can handle. And I might be imagining this, but I think that Alyce has become an even greater big sister since I’ve started working, looking out for Shira and inviting her to play together a little bit more, thinking of herself as a mama-in-training. Handy, that.

Whose having the hardest time adjusting? Anyone? Me. For example: all this time I’m spending away from The Children makes me want to inhale them when I’m home. If I’m in the room with them, I need to be close by, breathing in their smells (not all of them good, I’m afraid), giving them kisses, and stroking their hair. Alyce, it seems, has had enough. Case in point, a few nights ago she awoke around eleven, as she often does, needing a quick kiss and reminder that we are all in fact still home. The entire process usually takes around 45 seconds. But no, I jumped at this opportunity to slide into bed with her, spoon her, and grin ear-to-ear with the loveliness of spending time with my little girl. After about a minute, Alyce groaned at me to get out of her bed and to let her sleep. Then she pushed me.

So yes, I miss my girls. But my boobs have never looked better.

Things I am feeling right now

  Shira deals with all these transitions.

Things I am feeling right now:

Exhausted from a rotten cold.

Frustrated by my bumpy transition into office/data entry life.

A little beside myself with how much I miss The Children when I'm gone for ten hours every day.

Saddened that I only saw Alyce for 24 minutes today.

Happy that birthday week is coming up.

Full of pizza.

I've got lots to tell you about my first week at my new job, but that will have to wait. For now, I must sleep, and get excited about the weekend coming up! I've never before understood just how vital the weekend is until now. Now, I get it. I'm all over it. Bring on the weekend.

What do you have planned for the weekend? Do you have any suggestions to offer this weekend novice on how to make the most of my two days of freedom?

Back to work

This is what happens when I leave the three of them at home while I go out and work. I kid you not, The Children were stained blue and green for days. This is not, I repeat, not body paint. This photo was sent to my phone midway through the day, taunting me to come home and join them.

Today I'm starting a new job. It's not the job, but a temp job that will get me started for the time being. I will be working in my first real office job. My friend Kaylie tells me that the reason I've never liked The Office, in spite of loving Steve Carrell, is that I have no experience dealing with the personalities of an actual office. Most of my working life has been spent in a classroom or library. Maybe there's hope for me yet.

I have actually been working for two weeks at another job, but I didn't dare mention it here for fear that I wouldn't be able to restrain myself from complaining about it on the internet and maybe jeopardizing my position. I was working at a very large bookstore chain because it was the only call I received in four months and over fifty applications. We needed the income and I hoped that finding a job might be easier if I already had one (as the saying goes), and it turns out that I was right. So I'm trading my career as a bookseller for an office chair. We do what we need to.

I'll share some details later, but right now I need to shower, get dressed, cry over leaving my babies, and then get to work for my first day.

P.S. Thank you from the bottom of my heart for all the supportive comments on my post yesterday. I felt a bit naked sharing all that, but I know it was worth it.