Boom

Years ago I had this epiphany in the women's bathroom of the law firm where I was working.  I do my best thinking in bathrooms, don't you?  I always used to talk to myself in the bathroom as a kid. Probably because it was the only place I could be alone in a tiny house with six people.  Getting back to the major moment, it was February 2006 and I was miserable.  I hated my job, my living situation, my completely dysfunctional relationship with my boyfriend and, essentially, my life.

For the previous four months, I had spent most of my day either fighting with my boyfriend or sobbing about fighting with my boyfriend.  He had moved away for graduate school and we were trying to make a long-distance, cross-continental romance work.  For various reasons, not the least of which was that he wanted to revel in his freedom while knowing that I would be there waiting for him when he needed me, it was definitely not working.  Unfortunately, every time I tried to break up with him he would promise to change.  We had an awful co-dependency that was killing me. Once I finally cut the cord, I felt like a balloon, floating freely up and up.   I immediately knew that was one of the best          decisions I would ever make.

Yet I still had the other issues in my life-the job, the apartment- that I knew were within my control. So, the epiphany that struck me as I stared at the beige stall trying not to pee too loudly was that I only have one life.  I was the only one who could make it not suck.  Sheer genius, I know.  But, somewhere along in the previous couple of years, I had lost sight of this obvious point.  I really had spent far too much time waiting for the "what ifs" or "whens" rather than just enjoy my life as it was or change it as needed.  If I always believed that things were going to be better at another point, there was no need to really focus on the present.  It was like someone smacked me in the head with a giant "THE FUTURE IS NOW" stamp.   

Fast forward six months and I was living in a new place, with a brand new job, in a new field.  The day after I started my new job I (re)met my future husband (technically we'd met once before but whatever).  It's amazing how much you can change once you decide that things need to change.

I'm starting to feel that same energy shift now.  While I'm not sobbing all day and talking to myself in bathrooms (sadly, this is no longer a solo activity), I don't feel as happy as I imagined I would while not working and playing with my kid all day.  It's hard.  Harder than I thought it would be.  I miss being me and don't like always being mommy (mom-me).  A change is coming.   Not a radical one, mind you.  Perhaps a 25-40% change in the status quo.  Once I figure out what that means, I'm going to get right on it.

Lesson # 568

Just a little tip from me to you…

Don’t put your boarding pass and your driver’s license in your back pocket!

Eek! Fortunately, I realized they were missing before I tried to get on the plane (though, unfortunately, not before I was halfway across the airport).

Why indeed?

When I was walking out of our local Whole Foods parking lot yesterday I saw a homeless man approach a father and his two daughters, aged about 3/4 and 6/7. The father shook his head, albeit with measured compassion and an awkward smile, and walked away. I hadn't planned on giving the homeless person (the same one I see at least 3-5x per week and give money to maybe every third time) anything that day, but I felt compelled to after seeing the sad look the older daughter gave him. He smiled, blessed me and wished me well on the sunny afternoon. I caught up with the father and his daughters a bit further down the block and overheard the following exchange, more or less:

Older daughter: ...but why?
Father: I don't know why exactly but I think he probably was asking for money because he needs it.
Older daughter: So why didn't you give him anything?
Father: Well, it is hard to give to one person because there are a lot of people asking for money and we can't give to everyone.
Older daughter: What if we did give to everyone?
Father: Then we wouldn't have enough for us.
Younger daughter: I could give him this (holding up her chocolate milk).
Father: (laughter).

They then crossed the street and I didn't catch the rest of the day's important lesson. Being privy to this conversation initially made me so excited for Mr. Monk to start talking and asking serious questions. Then it dawned on me that I'll be the one who supposedly has the answers. I'll be expected to know what to say and how to make sense of all the sadness and evil and confusion in this world. How do I do that when I can't even begin to understand it myself? I felt more like the daughter in this conversation than the father. But why can't we just give to everyone and make do with less? How is it possible that I went into the store, bought 5 types of organic produce and chemical-free diapers and spent over $40 while this man is asking for any change I can spare? I don't know how to reconcile my guilt over getting what I want while many folks are barely getting what they need.

As I walked home, I thought of how important it is to me to instill in my child a true sense of gratitude, perspective and luck. I'm thinking as he gets older we should institute a buy one, give one program of our own for his toys. And little does he know all the years of volunteering his mama has planned for him.

I hope all of you are feeling some gratitude this weekend. If nothing else, the days getting longer is reason enough to celebrate, though I suppose it means winter is really coming even if it was 70 degrees in SF today.

Secrets and lies

I slept with someone else. And I'm in love with him.

My sister and I were in a Japanese restaurant on the Upper West Side, sitting about 8 inches from two men, one of whom was having the worst night ever. I spent the next hour willing myself not to look over at this poor couple. But, even though I wasn't looking at them and carried on a full conversation with my sister about nothing and everything (I miss living near my sister), I still could hear almost everything they were saying to each other. And it was seriously sad.

I've always been a major eavesdroppper. I don't do it in a malicious way, but sometimes I can't help it. I feel like Sookie the way I'm always capturing bits and pieces of other people's convos. I'll constantly turn to Mr. Schneed in amazement, "did you hear that?!" Every single time he'll respond with "what? I wasn't paying attention. " He NEVER pays attention to other people. Which is good? Is there something wrong with me that I like to listen to what others are saying?

I'm a nosy person. It started when I was a kid-I used to look in people's medicine cabinets every time I went to the bathroom in someone else's home (I've long since abandoned this terrible habit after finding some creepy things that could not be erased from memory). Once, during an after school program, I somehow managed to get stuck in one of my bathroom expeditions and had to call for help. When the hostess came in to relieve me, she saw what I'd been up to and yelled at me, "don't be such a yenta!" I prefer to think of myself as a spy. Perhaps I missed my calling.

Speaking of spies, I just started watching this new Showtime show, Homeland. The first couple of episodes were riveting. It's an interesting take on terrorism and US foreign policy. Just to Showtime it up, there are a lot of boob shots. Kind of too many.

Lately, people have been telling me all sorts of secrets that have a whole lot more meaning than they did when I was seven and found out that my friend Hannah had peed herself and pretended she spilled her apple juice. Maybe I just need to stop listening to the negativity for a bit. Why don't people ever share good news about themselves or others? I know that people like to commiserate but, once in a while, it would be nice to hear some good, old-fashioned bragging.

Same is not an evil word

I wish I loved anything as much as my husband loves football. Or Howard Stern, or gardening, or pretzels. While I may not approve of all his hobbies (such as the requisite trip to Vegas this weekend for his fantasy football draft. yeah, that's happening), I'm at least impressed by his commitment to them. He makes time for the things that mean something to him. There is something very earnest about the consistency of his habits. He knows what he likes and what he doesn't. As for me, well, I change my mind about who I want to be when I grow up every other day.

Routines and I have never agreed. When I worked at a law firm in NY, I had an officemate for a year who was just about the nicest guy (at a big law firm, this was like rooming with a unicorn). He adored the Mets, Jon Stewart and ate the exact same lunch at his desk EVERY. SINGLE. DAY. I never, ever saw him eat anything but a turkey sandwich on toasted white bread, with mustard and mayo and a side of chips. This drove me bananas. How could he not want some variety? And how could he stand the smell of mayo?? Once a week I would to try to entice him to eat something different, to no avail. Meanwhile, I could never decide what I wanted and would spend a good twenty minutes of my lunch hour walking up and down the streets willing a new takeout place to come into existence.

Lately, I feel like my mind bores just as easily as my palate. I talk a big game about wanting to write, or volunteer, or make all my own baby food, or leave my house before noon. But, I'm not so good at the follow through. Just as I get a rhythm going, I find something new that attracts me and I fall in like with the next project. Part of this might be explained by the lack of structure in my life since I left my full-time job and began caring for a child who changes personalities on a minute-to-minute basis.

Given my own Sybil-like tendencies, how I ever expect my baby to be the same from day to day? Surely just because he wolfed down a particular food yesterday doesn't mean anything about whether he'll even deign to let it touch his tongue today. And, don't even get me started on the toys. Sometimes he plays for hours with the same toy and sometimes he tears through forty of them in a matter of minutes. His acting talents are on full display these days as he goes from crying to laughing in the same breath. It's beginning to dawn on me how much this fickle boy takes after his mama. Maybe we both need to start some daily to do lists.

Mine:
Finish projects
Keep Mr. Monk alive and kicking

His:
Grow
Learn
Kick

Perspective

I complained entirely too much today. I complained to my husband. To my mom. To my sister. To my friends. To my son. While I am a firm believer in the healing powers of venting, enough is enough. My life is pretty damn good right now. So, from now on, when I find myself with a desire to bitch to or about someone, I'm just going to think of this sign that I saw while walking my dog the other day. No whining!

Instead, here are five things I am grateful for right now:

1. That I did not get a parking ticket despite being parked for an hour downtown in a no-parking passenger loading spot. For some reason, my addled brain saw the M-F, 11 am-12 Midnight sign as reading M-F, 11 pm-12 Midnight. I just thought it was only for passengers who were going out drinking or dancing.

2. Mr. Monk is really into hugs right now. He goes full throttle, with the head, the arms and and the tongue coming at you. It's like a grabbing a shooting star.

3. While my family members and many of my friends live on the other side of the country, I can see their lovely faces on my cell phone thanks to the genius of Steve Jobs! I wish you good luck and good health, Mr. Jobs.

4. The blogging world. I only recently discovered the true joys of public journaling, but I gotta say that I am really digging it. I hope to keep it going for a while.

5. This weekend's road trip to Portland! Granted, Mr. Monk seems to have had a major falling out with his car seat in recent days, but maybe they can come to some sort of amicable accord in their 10+ hours together. We are so excited to check out this amazing farmers market.

In case any of you are in need of a little reality check, have a look-see at this incredible piece that a friend posted on FB. I found it to be amazing and enlightening--as noted in the article, despite the vast differences among the subjects, everyone sleeps.

'Where Children Sleep'

lens.blogs.nytimes.com

James Mollison wanted to portray children's diverse worlds. What better way to do so than to photograph their bedrooms?

Oh sleep, I'm off to find you.

End of an era

You know it was a good wedding when you can hardly speak the next morning. When I was younger I used to love having a cold because I thought I sounded all sexy and hoarse like Demi Moore. In reality, it's more reminiscent of a frog. Then again, when I was really little I used to think it'd be cool to break my leg so I'd have to use crutches. This poor kid in my class, Howie, used to break at least one bone every year. Thinking of it now, I realize he probably had osteoporosis or some sort of bone disorder, but I was sooooo jealous of his casts and how he got to go down the stairs on his butt. Clearly, my issues go way back.

Anyway, we had a wonderful weekend at our friends' farm chic wedding in northern California, surrounded by love, sunshine and hay rides! Mr. Monk loved being a part of the festivities. So much so that he started cheering during the ceremony. Heeeeeeyyyyy!!!! Eeeeeeeeehhh! Hiiiiiiiiiii! He just wanted to express his joy for the happy couple. Thankfully, we sat on the aisle and made a quick break for it. There were loads of other babies around, which helped ease the burden (and shift the blame).

Although we had a few "were we out of our damn minds for not getting a sitter?" moments, for the most part, he slept. He slept during the cocktail hour. He slept through the dinner. He slept through hours of outdoor music and his parents dancing their asses off until 2 am. He even slept in a bowling alley the night before the wedding! How redneck is that? We parked him in the arcade section and rolled on for hours. He never made a peep despite the blaring house music, laser lights, oh and the soothing sounds of 8-16 pound plastic balls smashing into wooden pins all night long. Our next kid won't sleep at all, right?

As always after a wedding or any celebratory weekend, I feel a little sad today. There is something so magical about seeing a whole slew of friends (or family) in one place where nothing else exists but the need to have fun and share the love. Mr. Schneed and I realized on our way home that this was our last wedding. For now. We have a few more single friends, but no pending engagements/weddings. We are officially olden. After five years of spending every spring-fall going to at least five weddings (one year as many as 12!), this is just downright depressing. Time to start planning some reunions.

Now with a side of eye candy

We just arrived at our fancy pants hotel in Maui after a relaxing, chill, DIY few days in the more rustic north shore Kauai. The difference between these two experiences is pretty stark. In Kauai, I felt positively chic simply for having put on mascara or a bra (I swear that island must ban the sale of bras because there was nary one in sight). You must chill there because if you didn’t you would go completely nuts. We did a whole lot of nothing—in the form of sitting on the lanai (this word will forever remind me of the Golden Girls), teaching Mr. Monk to “swim” in the pool, eating tuna at every meal (mecury, shmercury), hiking down treacherous paths to secluded beaches carrying chairs, diapers, clothing, bottles, and various other sundries that remained untouched, unappreciated and yet still had to be carried back up. All in all, a damn fine way to enjoy life for a few days—and my skin is all dewy from the near 100% humidity.

However.

When I walked down to the pool area here in Maui, I immediately felt pale, round and afraid to be more than arm’s distance from my cover up. The first thing I noticed was the bronzed backside of a glamazon in a teeny bikini. I couldn’t help but stare at her ass and wonder how one achieves such a feat. Suddenly, she turned around and I saw that she must have been at least 7 months pregnant!!!! This woman is carrying around an almost fully formed little person and yet still looks nicer from behind than I’ll ever look. Oh well, at least there are free cookies in my room! And spin class at 8 am. Which will make me happier? If I go for both do they cancel each other out? I’ll be pondering these and other pressing questions while pretending to read at the pool.

On totally unrelated note—
Reason number 568 how you know you married the right man: he reads through the NY Times Wedding Section to see if your ex-boyfriend, who is getting married today, is listed in there because he “didn’t want you to find it first and have it ruin your day.” The ex’s wedding wasn’t listed but how nice of Mr. Schneed to look, eh?