Archive for the ‘Life, The Universe, and Everything’ Category
New hair, the positive addition to an otherwise crap day.
My mother-in-law, who has been visiting with us for the last two months, cut and dyed my hair yesterday and I love it. She must’ve cut off over four inches, a testament to the sacrificial mommy lifestyle, and probably the first I’ve had it cut at all in over a year. Otherwise yesterday was a complete write-off.
I was disappointed in the grade I received on my quarter two assessment in Human Biology. That’s not to say I received a bad grade, I got a 2:1 and still maintain a 2:1 in the course thus far, which is what I’m ultimately aiming to do (in the UK, a 2:1 is below a first, which is the highest). But after talking to my friend Jen about it, she sent me a link to a post on dooce.com which really hit home about the blogger’s daughter and her perfectionism:
When you attempt something, you don’t want to be good at it. You want to be the best. This personality trait bares its fangs most noticeably when you practice piano. And here’s the thing: your skill level has far surpassed everything I know about reading music, so your father has to help you practice. Your father is very good at everything he tries, but he’s not a crazed fanatical overachiever like I am. Like you seem to be. So I’ve had to walk him through what goes on in your brain when you hit a wrong note or can’t hear a rhythm.
“Jon, that wrong note makes her think she’s going to end up homeless.”
“But that doesn’t make any sense,” he’ll say.
“True,” I concede. “But if you raise your voice while she’s in that spiral, not only will she end up homeless, she’ll end up homeless and then someone will steal her cardboard box.”
As hard as it is to explain, that’s where I go emotionally when I fall short of what I personally think I’m capable of: I’m going to end up homeless and someone will steal my cardboard box. It isn’t logical, but any feedback that goes against my internal idea of me is a hard thing to swallow, and I feel as though I’m capable of better than even a 2:1. I’m driven to do well at this, to be a great female role model to my daughter, to not end up jockeying a phone for a living the rest of my life. I feel as though my goals are realistic (I read once only about 10% of majors in the hard sciences come out with firsts… so I feel 2:1 is more than reasonable) but I also feel the pressure of succeeding to the utmost degree so I can get into grad school when this ungrad is all said and done with. I’ve never been challenged in this way academically before: my first excursion into university, despite the attempt at a double major, was fairly easy (she says, having been nineteen years old without a care in the world) and I was always on the Dean’s honor list. This go around is… well… about a million times harder.
It’s been a hard couple of days overall, mostly due to the lack of sleep I’m getting as a result of Moo, who is eighteen months old mind you, waking multiple times in the night and we’re not sure why. Couple that with getting up at five for work on Sunday, working a full day, and consuming enough Redbull to bring down an elephant (I really must stop with the Redbull). I was exhausted when I got home.
Then our boiler broke during the coldest weather we’ve had this year. Fan-fucking-tastic.
I hate writing about my “problems” on my blog because it sounds incredibly shallow and, even in the throes of emotion, I am still a logical enough person to recognize I’m so very lucky my problems are first world, middle class problems. I don’t have to worry about feeding my kid or barely scraping by, and we even have enough money in reserve to fix the damn boiler. Yet it was an amalgamation of everything and, in the course of just a day, I felt like I lost my controlling hold on everything. I felt spread thin in a way I’ve not yet felt: as though EVERYTHING I am doing can never amount to my best because I’m trying to do too much. I went from feeling like I was sailing calm waters in a boat I built myself to feeling like I am barely keeping my head above water in just a twenty-four hour period. And I was angry: angry that Mark had neglected a “blue job” (as opposed to “pink job”) of getting the boiler serviced before winter hit, and also angry at myself for becoming THAT woman I said I’d never be: the one who cannot, for example, even locate the electricity meter because “it’s something her husband deals with.” Ugh.
I guess what it comes down to is I need a more realistic idea of me. I’m not superhuman, nor am I perfect, nor will I achieve savant-level accomplishments academically, nor will I wake up one morning with the ability to fix my own boiler. What I can do, what I am capable of, is trying my best at whatever it is I do: school, work, motherhood, life. Sometimes, I wish this thought were enough. Sometimes it’s not, but ultimately it has to be.
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Love.
There is something incredibly hot about a man who, after spending the entire day at work, still comes home and gets on his hands and knees in a suit to play with his daughter. Reason #339487 why I love this man.
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January round-up.
So each month last year I did these round-up posts as a means of keeping track of and staying motivated on goals I set out to achieve as well as mention little things that may not have made it into a blog entry. This year I’m doing the same, as it was (and still is!) a great way to track my progress for my resolutions.
I’m surprised I got as much completed as I did to be honest, as things around the Doodle household have been busy since… well since… I don’t know, Thanksgiving last year? Ha! With the holidays having been a blur and family coming in and out of town (Mark’s mum and my dad have both stayed with us this month) schedules and routines have been out the window, and I’ve resigned myself to rolling with the punches and getting everything back on track in February when things settle down again… or will they? My new course, Biological Psychology, starts this week and will run alongside my existing Human Biology course. I’ve dropped Insanity this month in favor of starting over again on Day 1 in February as I was missing too many days in the schedule due to the busy holiday season, but luckily I’ve been watching my weight in the meantime and still losing (despite many a binge on delicious holiday treats). I am DETERMINED to hit that goal weight and body this year, all the hard work put in since August 2010 is paying off, and I’m in the home stretch.
Also, Awesomeville is just 9 “likes” away from 100! Have you “liked” Awesomeville yet? If not, you’re missing out on getting Awesomeville updates direct to your Facebook feed! The “like” box is just over there, on the right.
Resolutions 2012:
- -Pictures taken: 1,797 (1,797 / 15,000)
- -Books read: 4 (4 / 30)
- A Brief History of Time by Stephen Hawking
- Letter to a Christian Nation by Sam Harris
- Life and Laughing: My Story by Michael McIntyre
- Never Let Me Go by Kazuo Ishiguro
- -Pounds lost: 2.6 lbs ( 2.6 / 30)
- -Home improvements: 1 (1 /6)
- -Register for a spring course: DONE! Biological Psychology starts this week and I am very excited to explore the material, just hoping two courses won’t be the death of me.
More awesomeness from January:
- -Pops (my dad) came to visit!
- -Moo turned 18 months old.
- -I photographed Ellie’s blessing.
- -After some soul searching, I decided to drop Odyssey Photography and the pursuit of a personal business, opting instead to simply shoot for myself and those I love.
- -I sold my very first print! More on this to come.
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Art with soul and spring cleaning in the middle of winter.
My husband used to play the saxophone, did I ever tell you that? He picked it up as a teen thinking he’d learn to play sexy tunes so all the girls he fancied would dance provocatively around him (joke a la Eddie Izzard). This didn’t happen. Instead, fifteen years on his wife digs it out of storage, polishes it, and puts it on the shelf in the living room. I love its beautiful contours and intricate parts, and I love how it fits in with the canvas art I made a few weeks ago. I myself never learned an instrument, after being told at nine that my recorder playing was “wrong” and that I “probably wasn’t cut out for music.” I had a wild idea that I would LEARN how to play this sax that lasted for about 24 hours before I came to my senses and realized I do not have that kind of free time. At least, not without giving up games or reading or something.
Much like the creep of holidays into earlier and earlier territory each year, so follows the so called “spring” cleaning. This year I started with my laptop: clearing off programs, deleting copies of copies of copies I seem to build up out of nowhere, and organizing all of my photos into a more comprehensive system. I even deleted a 30GB sized folder full of nothing but funny images I found online. What?
(via)
I didn’t even look in it, just threw it out. Ran the disk defragmenter, opened the laptop itself and gave it a good cleaning with the can of compressed air. Runs beautifully again, and I’ve never had it this organized. I also rolled out a new blog layout. Spiffy, huh?
I’m excited that spring-cleaning-in-winter this year includes painting and decorating the bedroom, as it’s been completely neglected as we slowly improve upon the other rooms in the flat. The bedroom still looks as it did when we moved in, right down to the bare bulb dangling unceremoniously from the ceiling. I’ve got a lot of ideas, and it’s going to be fun. I’m feeling productive at the moment, inspired, and I’m ready to begin: home improvements, my next course, the rest of the year.
Perhaps winter is a better time for our cleaning anyways, spring is for fun.
Glennon Melton: Don’t Carpe Diem.
I seldom repost things I’ve found online, but this article is brilliant, I loved it!
Glennon Melton: Don’t Carpe Diem
Every time I’m out with my kids — this seems to happen:
An older woman stops us, puts her hand over her heart and says something like, “Oh, Enjoy every moment. This time goes by so fast.”
Everywhere I go, someone is telling me to seize the moment, raise my awareness, be happy, enjoy every second, etc, etc, etc.
I know that this message is right and good. But, I have finally allowed myself to admit that it just doesn’t work for me. It bugs me. This CARPE DIEM message makes me paranoid and panicky. Especially during this phase of my life – while I’m raising young kids. Being told, in a million different ways to CARPE DIEM makes me worry that if I’m not in a constant state of intense gratitude and ecstasy, I’m doing something wrong.
I think parenting young children (and old ones, I’ve heard) is a little like climbing Mount Everest. Brave, adventurous souls try it because they’ve heard there’s magic in the climb. They try because they believe that finishing, or even attempting the climb are impressive accomplishments. They try because during the climb, if they allow themselves to pause and lift their eyes and minds from the pain and drudgery, the views are breathtaking. They try because even though it hurts and it’s hard, there are moments that make it worth the hard. These moments are so intense and unique that many people who reach the top start planning, almost immediately, to climb again. Even though any climber will tell you that most of the climb is treacherous, exhausting, killer. That they literally cried most of the way up.
And so I think that if there were people stationed, say, every thirty feet along Mount Everest yelling to the climbers — “ARE YOU ENJOYING YOURSELF!? IF NOT, YOU SHOULD BE! ONE DAY YOU’LL BE SORRY YOU DIDN’T!” TRUST US!! IT’LL BE OVER TOO SOON! CARPE DIEM!” — those well-meaning, nostalgic cheerleaders might be physically thrown from the mountain.
Now. I’m not suggesting that the sweet old ladies who tell me to ENJOY MYSELF be thrown from a mountain. These are wonderful ladies. Monkees, probably. But last week, a woman approached me in the Target line and said the following: “Sugar, I hope you are enjoying this. I loved every single second of parenting my two girls. Every single moment. These days go by so fast.”
At that particular moment, Amma had arranged one of the new bras I was buying on top of her sweater and was sucking a lollipop that she must have found on the ground. She also had three shop-lifted clip-on neon feathers stuck in her hair. She looked exactly like a contestant from Toddlers and Tiaras. I couldn’t find Chase anywhere, and Tish was grabbing the pen on the credit card swiper thing WHILE the woman in front of me was trying to use it. And so I just looked at the woman, smiled and said, “Thank you. Yes. Me too. I am enjoying every single moment. Especially this one. Yes. Thank you.”
That’s not exactly what I wanted to say, though.
There was a famous writer who, when asked if he loved writing, replied, “No. but I love having written.” What I wanted to say to this sweet woman was, “Are you sure? Are you sure you don’t mean you love having parented?”
I love having written. And I love having parented. My favorite part of each day is when the kids are put to sleep (to bed) and Craig and I sink into the couch to watch some quality TV, like Celebrity Wife Swap, and congratulate each other on a job well done. Or a job done, at least.
Every time I write a post like this, I get emails suggesting that I’m being negative. I have received this particular message four or five times — G, if you can’t handle the three you have, why do you want a fourth?
That one always stings, and I don’t think it’s quite fair. Parenting is hard. Just like lots of important jobs are hard. Why is it that the second a mother admits that it’s hard, people feel the need to suggest that maybe she’s not doing it right? Or that she certainly shouldn’t add more to her load. Maybe the fact that it’s so hard means she IS doing it right…in her own way…and she happens to be honest.
Craig is a software salesman. It’s a hard job in this economy. And he comes home each day and talks a little bit about how hard it is. And I don’t ever feel the need to suggest that he’s not doing it right, or that he’s negative for noticing that it’s hard, or that maybe he shouldn’t even consider taking on more responsibility. And I doubt anybody comes by his office to make sure he’s ENJOYING HIMSELF. I doubt his boss peeks in his office and says: “This career stuff…it goes by so fast…ARE YOU ENJOYING EVERY MOMENT IN THERE, CRAIG???? CARPE DIEM, CRAIG!”
My point is this. I used to worry that not only was I failing to do a good enough job at parenting, but that I wasn’t enjoying it enough. Double failure. I felt guilty because I wasn’t in parental ecstasy every hour of every day and I wasn’t MAKING THE MOST OF EVERY MOMENT like the mamas in the parenting magazines seemed to be doing. I felt guilty because honestly, I was tired and cranky and ready for the day to be over quite often. And because I knew that one day, I’d wake up and the kids would be gone, and I’d be the old lady in the grocery store with my hand over my heart. Would I be able to say I enjoyed every moment? No.
But the fact remains that I will be that nostalgic lady. I just hope to be one with a clear memory. And here’s what I hope to say to the younger mama gritting her teeth in line:
“It’s helluva hard, isn’t it? You’re a good mom, I can tell. And I like your kids, especially that one peeing in the corner. She’s my favorite. Carry on, warrior. Six hours till bedtime.” And hopefully, every once in a while, I’ll add — “Let me pick up that grocery bill for ya, sister. Go put those kids in the van and pull on up — I’ll have them bring your groceries out.”
Anyway. Clearly, Carpe Diem doesn’t work for me. I can’t even carpe fifteen minutes in a row, so a whole diem is out of the question.
Here’s what does work for me:
There are two different types of time. Chronos time is what we live in. It’s regular time, it’s one minute at a time, it’s staring down the clock till bedtime time, it’s ten excruciating minutes in the Target line time, it’s four screaming minutes in time out time, it’s two hours till daddy gets home time. Chronos is the hard, slow passing time we parents often live in.
Then there’s Kairos time. Kairos is God’s time. It’s time outside of time. It’s metaphysical time. It’s those magical moments in which time stands still. I have a few of those moments each day. And I cherish them.
Like when I actually stop what I’m doing and really look at Tish. I notice how perfectly smooth and brownish her skin is. I notice the perfect curves of her teeny elf mouth and her asianish brown eyes, and I breathe in her soft Tishy smell. In these moments, I see that her mouth is moving but I can’t hear her because all I can think is — This is the first time I’ve really seenTish all day, and my God — she is so beautiful. Kairos.
Like when I’m stuck in chronos time in the grocery line and I’m haggard and annoyed and angry at the slow check-out clerk. And then I look at my cart and I’m transported out of chronos. And suddenly I notice the piles and piles of healthy food I’ll feed my children to grow their bodies and minds and I remember that most of the world’s mamas would kill for this opportunity. This chance to stand in a grocery line with enough money to pay. And I just stare at my cart. At the abundance. The bounty. Thank you, God. Kairos.
Or when I curl up in my cozy bed with Theo asleep at my feet and Craig asleep by my side and I listen to them both breathing. And for a moment, I think- how did a girl like me get so lucky? To go to bed each night surrounded by this breath, this love, this peace, this warmth? Kairos.
These kairos moments leave as fast as they come- but I mark them. I say the word kairos in my head each time I leave chronos. And at the end of the day, I don’t remember exactly what my kairos moments were, but I remember I had them. And that makes the pain of the daily parenting climb worth it.
If I had a couple Kairos moments during the day, I call it a success.
Carpe a couple of Kairoses a day.
Good enough for me.
