Ow.

I consider myself to be...well...I guess in relatively decent shape.  At a minimum, for the past six years I trudged up and down several flights of stairs every day to get to my castle in the clouds and therefore should be fairly fit.  And for the last year, I did so armed with about 500 pounds of stuff and a little human being.  So, apart from the usual issues that a body that has had a kid faces, I think I'm in "ok" condition for my age.

For my age.  For my age for someone who isn't chasing a very fast-paced toddler around.  Because, let me tell you, I have never been in so much pain at the end of the day, in my life.  I was an athlete in school and really didn't have too much trouble with physical exertion, so long as it didn't involve a mountain of some sort.  But this?  I feel like I am 90 years old.  The QUEEN looked better than I yesterday.  My back, my arms, my neck--they all feel as though they have reached their capacity at the end of the day.  And they have.  The other day my son and I played "poke mommy with a plastic golf club" because it somewhat resemebled a mediocre massage and I refused to get off the floor.  All I can say, in sum, is "ow."

And the craziest part?  It's only going to get more intense as he gets older.  My new "trainer" is relentless.  Right now he demands being pushed across the room on his scooter.  What happens when the demand is down the block?  Will mommy survive?  I sometimes think the only solution is to ban childbirth in mothers over the age of 15.  I believe we should not only tolerate teen pregnancy, we should require it.  Because they're the only possible people whose bodies can take this on a daily basis. 

I would love to tell you that I'm going to go have a glass of wine and a bath and get over this particular rant.  But we both know I'm going to go bend down to pick up a toy, fall flat on the squishy alphabet playroom floor, and not get up until morning.  So if you happen to stop by, please feel free to wake me.  The plastic golf clubs work nicely.  A little to the left, please.

A Royal Escape

I have found the hoopla surrounding today's royal wedding to be absolutely hilarious.  I am particularly entertained because I, too, have been (I am totally ashamed to say) somewhat caught up in it.  This is largely the fault of Disney TV.  My kid likes to dance to the songs on some of the morning shows, so we usually have Disney on for background noise.  This week, however, has been the "Royal Special Week" (or some similar title-you get the point).  They have been playing some of the favorite Disney movies in which an everyday person falls in love with someone who happens to be royalty (and vice-versa) and naturally lives happily ever after.  As a result, I have been reconnected with my inner hopeless romantic, much against my will.

And speaking of Wills...this has naturally led to an interest in the wedding that took place today.  No, I don't have the "Katherine and William Authorized China."  But admittedly, I did consider the replica sapphire engagement ring.  But I'm cutting myself some slack on this one.  Why not?  Why not get wrapped up in what is a beautiful occasion (weddings, regardless of your opinion on marriage, are beautiful) that is made even more beautiful by massive quantities of money and centuries of tradition?  Why not pretend that this girl is "common," though her parents have more money than the Queen and the Pope combined?  Why not fall in love with the carriages and gowns and glitz and (who knows, it could be true) love?  It's a glimmer of happiness (or at least a great production of it) in times when a lot of people are struggling.  And that, my friends, is awesome.  Too many dreams are on hold right now.  Why not indulge in crazy fantasies of fairy tales for a morning?

Yes, it is possible that I am justifying a horrible obsession with silly notions.  But I say go for it.  If it gives you a bit of "happy ever after"--hell, even if you just do so in order to mock the thing--I say let yourself watch one of the hundreds of re-showings of the royal wedding this weekend.  And when you do, go ahead and fantasize that some foreign prince or princess will whisk you away and you will never again have a single care in the world.  Because if Britney Spears can be considered "talented," it's possible that you can become royalty.  Well, after your divorce and a lot of plastic surgery, of course.  But it's possible.  So enjoy the fantasy as much as I enjoy wandering around my house in a tin foil tiara that a good friend so kindly made for me years ago when I complained that I had never owned one.  Indulge.  And it is my hope that you live happily ever after.

Little Mexico

Likely a Montanan wearing a
sombrero.  This charming article
can be yours at
http://www.go4costumes.com/

I will admit, I have never been a huge fan of Mexican food.  This is sort of odd considering the fact that I have spent a fair amount of time in Phoenix.  This is very odd considering Chicago (according to some sources) has the second-largest Hispanic population outside of L.A.  and some of the best food in the world.  But, still, not so much a fan.  I am, however, a fan of food in general.

When I first arrived in Montana , one of my initial discoveries was the fact that there are many new restaurants.  Many new chain restaurants, that is.  And those that aren't chains are wholly offensive.  For example, there is a restaurant that I passed one day called "Fancy Asian Sushi."  Wow.  That screams awesome food, to me.  It's not just sushi, it's Asian sushi.  And not only that, it's fancy.  Excellent.

But not only have I recently been singing another tune as to the restaurant scene here, there is one particular genre that has piqued my attention:  Mexican food.  Last night I had what can only be described as some of the best Mexican food I have eaten.  I kid you not.  It's as though a tiny piece of Mexico (minus the strange viruses and drug lords...well, the viruses, anyway) was plunked down just miles from the Canadian border.  The guacamole was heaven, the rice was spicy and (this may have had something to do with it) the margaritas were frosty.  It was really good food.  Ok, again I admit that my palette for Mexican food is a bit underdeveloped.  But nonetheless, I enjoyed my meal.  It was shocking. 

I'm quite certain I will continue to peruse the Red Robins and Applebees of the town.  But I guess the moral of the story is, you never know when the bizarre will pleasantly surprise you.  I don't feel strongly enough about this lesson, however, to try the fancy sushi.  My morals have limits.

My Sister's Husband's Cousin's Girlfriend Heard You Were at Target

One of the funnier aspects of living in a smaller community is how quickly word spreads about...well, everything.  This has been a bit unnerving for me, as I have become a very private person.  Yes, I spill my guts to you all here, but no matter how awesome your comments are, if they have "real" names in them, I'm afraid I axe them before they're public.  And I am adamant about people not posting photos of my kid on social media sites.  So on the whole, I get (irrationally, I will admit) freaked out by people knowing my "stuff."

Yeah, well, good luck to me on that one.  I've been here a short time and already I have been "spotted" around the city by various people.  Story number one:  a good friend of mine who knew there was a good chance I would be here emailed to say (and I'm only slightly paraphrasing here) that her husband's mother's boyfriend saw me at the golf course so she knew I had arrived.  CRACKED ME UP.  This guy is totally nice, and I should have recognized him when I was there for lunch, but I didn't.  He had met me (as far as I can remember) once.  But I was with my dad who people know so logically it was "me."  But how funny is that?  It's like a Ferris Bueller story.  Not nearly as funny, however, as the second story.

I had dinner with my Godparents' son (I never know--does that make him my Godbrother?).  He was a few years ahead of me and went to another of the high schools here.  He mentioned that a friend of his from high school (who I hadn't seen in literally 20 years) called to say he had seen me in Target.  I kid you not.  Don't get me wrong--I was thrilled that he would know who I am.  He is hot.  Well, he was hot 20 years ago, anyway.  But the point is that EVERYONE KNOWS EVERYTHING.

Me while gardening.

Maybe I should get a disguise.  Maybe I shouldn't leave my house.  I highly suspect, though, that there would still be chatter about how I never leave my house and for some reason am wearing a Wonder Woman costume in my backyard.  Maybe I should just suck it up and enjoy knowing everything about everyone else.  I'm quite certain I am far less interesting than some of the stuff that goes on here.  Yeah, let's try that.

Putting the "Fun" in Dysfunctional

An acquaintance recently commented that she thought my child would certainly be "screwed up" as a result of my "dysfunctional" family.  It may have something to do with the fact that I couldn't care less what this obnoxious person thinks, but I find her comment to be hilarious.

Don't get me wrong--she's not mistaken when it comes to describing my family as "off."  There are aspects of it that are...non-traditional...to say the least.  For example, my parents are divorced, but are still the best of friends and to this day have the greatest marriage I have ever seen.  By further example, as you know I am a broke, single, parent.  Not exactly screaming "success" here.  And by further example, my grandmother (my child's great-grandmother) has never seen my kid.  Not for any particular reason other than she hasn't been bothered.  As I said, not exactly what the experts call "normal."  And finally, I consider my friends--those in Chicago, those here, and those scattered about the country--to be my family, end of story.  They are my loved ones no matter where I am or where they are or what insane things either of us does.  Extended, wonderful, zany, but not typical.

But here is the thing.  On the whole, we are a success story.  Both of my parents love me and love my kid, without question and without reservation.  My friends and other family members make an incredible extension of this love and fill in any "gaps" our hearts may need.  And I worship my kid and would (clearly) do anything in the world to make him happy.  And although things have been extremely difficult lately, and although we have lost family members due to life and to death, we are overall so incredibly blessed it's scary.  And we laugh.  Even when mocking stupid people (well, particularly when mocking stupid people), we laugh.  So I guess call us whatever you would like.  I wouldn't trade my dysfunctional family for the world.  And I'll take my chances on screwing up my kid.  Because, trust me, I'll have plenty of chances for that, without involving the rest of my family.

THAT kid

Several weeks ago I sat in Costco with Grandma and my son.  We had just finished a marathon dry goods run (you know--where you purchase such necessities as 12 pounds of brownie mix) and had decided to partake of the Costco food court.  First, may I say, it was rather tasty.  Very tasty, actually, much to my surprise.  Grandma had the hot dog and I ordered (what else) the pepperoni pizza.  As I was devouring my tasty meal (did I mention it was tasty?), I would occasionally give my kid bites of the cheese or occasionally the crust.  I did avoid the pepperoni, as I am still changing diapers and that just didn't sound like fun.  Anyway, the point is that my kid and I were enjoying the pizza.

So as I looked over to the table next to us, it suddenly hit me that I am a horrible parent.  There was a woman there with two little kids.  The older of the two was sitting quietly, eating his preservative-free bologna on whole wheat that she had pulled out of his personalized lunchbox.  The younger was just starting to eat his homemade pureed eggplant.  As she spooned the healthy mush into his mouth, she noticed me staring and smiled.  "How old is your son?" she asked.  I quickly closed my mouth and told her just under a year.  She smiled larger "Oh, Georgie is just turning one this week!"  I stared again at the child who was dutifully eating up the veggies and then looked down at my own kid who was covered in pizza sauce and grinning from ear to ear.  I looked back at the Talbot's-clothed mom and again at my jeans which were covered, I think, in last-week's pudding.  I felt awful.  Before he was even one, he had turned into that kid.  You know--the one who smokes behind the school at 8 because his mother isn't paying attention.  The one who wears clothes just a bit last season and whose hair is a bit too long to be fashionable.  The kid who watches copious amounts of TV and drinks nothing but Mountain Dew.  The single parent's kid.

To put it mildly, now that we are in a new place, I have actually pulled out my Beaba baby food maker and have determined that my child will eat nothing but organic produce.  I haven't actually used it, mind you.  And maybe I'm overreacting.  Maybe it's not predetermined that my kid will be that kid.  But I am determined to stop the tides, just in case.  Now excuse me while I buy my kid and his friends some Keystone Light.

I Hate Country Music

I hate country music.  Ok, this statement isn't entirely correct.  I generally have liked country music in the past.  In fact, when I was in Chicago I used to occasionally listen to the country stations as they gave me a piece of comfort.  Both the "down-home" lyrics and the tunes reminded me of my family here in Montana and it was a nice reminder of calmer times.

Yeah, well, now that things are very calm (with some notable exceptions, of course), I am singing a different tune.  Or I would like to be, at least.  There are exactly 3 choices in musical genres on the radio stations here.  First is, shockingly, country.  Second is gospel.  Third is 80s hard rock.  While the hard rock is tempting and makes me smile simply because it's the same stuff that was on the radio the last time I lived here, more than 30 seconds of the stuff and you want to ram your car into Taco John's while wearing an Axl Rose bandana.  Gospel makes me feel bad about myself and life choices, so that leaves country.  Which was fine for the first day or two.  But now?  I don't care if my dog ran off with my tractor or whether he's gonna love her like it's yesterday's tomorrow.  At all.  If I hear Taylor Swift one more time, I am going to lure her into a hut where she can spend eternity with The Wiggles and whatever that animal sidekick of Dora the Explorer is.  The worst part?  I can't even get WGN radio in the car, meaning no Cubs games (though it was hard to listen without you, Ronnie).  To say it mildly, the situation is dire.

So what's a girl to do?  Well, sadly, the best solution with which I have come up is to listen to the Disney's Greatest Hits.  Over and over again.  If you need to know a lyric from the third stanza of "Be Our Guest," be my guest and ask.  I know it.  And you may be interested to know that there is a beautiful instrumental from the second half of Pocahontas.  Just saying.

If anyone out there has another solution, I'm dying to hear it.  Please.  Until then, you can find me under the sea.  Because it's a small world, after all.  And until then, Hakuna Matatta.

The New Face of Unemployment

Obviously, the state of the U.S. (and World, actually) economy has been the subject of headlines for years now.  I remember the shock, then the resignation, as field after field of employment started taking hits and jobs everywhere were cut.  I will fully admit, I was completely blown away when it hit law firms, particularly large law firms.  Both staff and attorneys had previously felt at least somewhat secure in their choice of employment--most considered their positions to be careers.  But starting a few years ago, that security went out the window.

None of this, however, is news.  What surprises me is that it seems to still be going on.  Sure, there aren't the mass-layoffs that made the news.  But now things are much more covert.  And now that I think about it, the remnants of careers are everywhere.  For example, I have a friend who (wait for it...) is a lawyer in Chicago.  She has been without a job for over a year now.  And she commented the other day that her application to be a checker at Target was rejected.  Sure, she had some personal issues that contributed, but who hasn't?  Also, I'm not the only graduate of my high school who has found him/herslef back home.  A guy who was a stock broker in LA is now working for his dad here in Montana.  Another friend who was in accounting in Seattle is here and looking for a job.  People everywhere are finding themselves re-evaluating what how they once viewed their careers (and, subsequently, their lives).  Even those senior enough to have relatively secure jobs are finding themselves with far less pay than they were making a few years ago.  I know-many of you are saying "poor rich people."  But when you live in a city in which decent (we're talking being relatively sure your 1 year old won't come home selling crack) child care is no less than (not exaggerating here) $30,000 per year, things tend to add up.

As I mentioned when I started this rant, the situation is awful but it also sort of makes me feel better (because it is, after all, about me).  Seriously, though, I can attest to how much watching a career you fought for years for, and paid a small fortune to obtain, go down in flames can suck.  I know the complete, paralyzing fear of wondering how you're going to support your child.  And I know the embarrassment of answering the question "so what are you doing these days" with "not much."  But you're not alone.  In fact, I can't say I know of more than 4 people who haven't had to deal with it on some level in recent years.  And the rest of us are all getting by.  The guy working for his dad has the business making more than it ever has.  A friend who felt the big-firm axe is now owner of her own, very successful firm.  And I have a friend who even chucked it all and headed out into the world to see what is there.  And those of us still putting together the pieces are figuring things out and still eating far more than we should be.  And that's sort of freeing, really.  I repeat--you're not alone.  So hold your head up high, think outside of the box, and see what comes your way. 

I'll get to work on living by that advice, just as soon as I pay this law school loan....

For Sue

Today I am not going to be complaining about where I am or what I am doing or the general state of the world.  We can resume that tomorrow.  Today I would like to talk about an extraordinary woman who we recently lost.

Sue was my mom's best friend since they were kids.  As fate would have it, Sue gave birth to a beautiful girl just a few months before I was born, and together we all formed a very extended, sometimes very crazy family.  Sue was a single mom and today, as another single mom, the elegance and calm with which she conducted her daily life still amazes me.  She was sweet, she was kind, she was funny and there was nothing in the world that she wouldn't do for her family, particularly her daughter.  In January 2009 Sue was diagnosed with breast cancer.  It was a change from which she would never recover.  And now that she is gone, we will always have a missing piece in our hearts.

Other than talking about this magnificent woman, I don't really have a point except to say that this life thing is hard.  There are good days and there are plenty of bad days.  But if we go through it with even an ounce of the kindness that Sue possessed, we will do her memory and ourselves a world of good.  It's cliche, but love your friends and family with all that you have because the rest simply doesn't matter.

The Great Grass Experiment

There are admittedly aspects of this entire move that I think are sort of cool.  One huge one is my son having a backyard in which to play.  The thought of him running around an expansive blanket of green is thrilling for me.  It was one aspect of city life that bothered me--no room to play unless you're in a public park.  And, as many of you know, one cannot attend a park activity without one's Manolos.  So, again in keeping with my "bright side" crap, this is a cool thing.  But this desire to become one with nature comes with an irrational fear that he will (of course he will) forget all that he learned about living in the city.  As Chicago is such a huge part of who I am, this bothers me.  But perhaps it shouldn't.

So a few days after we arrived, we tried out the whole "backyard" thing.  First, let me say, my son refuses to wear shoes.  And I don't just mean he puts up a fight when putting them on, I mean he will stand there as though weighted to the ground if you manage to get them on his feet.  He refuses to move.  Shoes are, for all intents and purposes, evil to him.  So picture, if you will, a toddler wearing several pairs of socks, venturing out to his first brush with nature.  He was completely overwhelmed.  He clearly thought it was cool.  But, he also clearly thought (as many city folk do) that it was for viewing not for utilizing.  There is a concrete walk that runs through the middle of the yard, and he would not move off of it.  He refused.  Even if I picked him up and set him on the grass, he immediately toddled back over to the concrete.  He did touch the grass, but only to "pet" it from the safety of the walk.  I was so proud.  In just a year, my kid had become so citified, he would have made a New Yorker impressed.

We will, of course, continue to attempt to beat (metaphorically, of course) nature into the kid.  But for now, just as I hang on to the Cubs for dear life, he clings to concrete.  Maybe there's hope of retaining our identies after all....

Up and Running. I think.

Hi everyone.

This is totally the view from my back
door.  I swear.  Come visit.

First, thanks very much for your patience during this transition process.  And let me tell you--it is a transition.  We have arrived in Montana and both me and my son are reeling.  For my part, it is a strange mixture of familiarity and shocking differences.  Things have changed in the 17 years since I lived here and yet are also very much the same.  It is strange, to say the least.

We're starting to adjust and are focusing on the good things.  One such good thing is my son spending time with Grandpa.  It's awesome.  Grandpa calls each night to say how glad he is that we are here.  And he has been fantastic at giving me my space.  As I am sure will shock you, I am a bit...touchy...when it comes to making sure I am doing exactly what I want to be doing and not what someone else tells me to do.  I know--you can't imagine that this describes me.  But it's true.  Anyway, another good thing is seeing people I haven't seen in almost two decades, particularly girls that I went to high school with, and finding them to not have aged well at all.  That's awesome.  Big fan of that particular aspect of this experiment.

Anyhow, we are currently living off of plastic cups and TV on the floor.  Hopefully the movers will be here soon.  I have no idea where we will put our things as the new house is much smaller than my city dwelling.  But like everything else, we will wing it.  I'm also adjusting to going for walks and not seeing another soul.  Nor a Starbucks.  What the hell?  Am I seriously supposed to make my own coffee now?  So strange....

So folks, as I mentioned, stay tuned for new adventures in the 100% carpool lane.  Looking for a job (yikes), adjusting to the quiet (double yikes) and harrassing my friends all day via email are just a few of the highlights coming up.  Thank you all for your support and kind wordsthey are appreciated more than I can say.  Here we go!

Here we go...

Hi folks,

Well, I promised you lots of adventure and adventure is what you will get.  We're experiencing a lot of changes here at Fast Lane.  In short, after a decade-plus of fast, fun, expensive, big-city living, I am packing everything I own and my little guy and we are headed to Montana.  Yes, you heard that right--Montana.  Yes, people actually live there.  No, they don't still ride horses to school.  Well, most don't anyway.

Montana's not actually such a huge leap for me as I grew up there.  But I grew up there itching to be a part of something bigger.  Something better.  And now I am.  It's just not the same "bigger" that I had thought.  I am trading in my Chicago law firm life for a future for my son.  Whether this particular trade was voluntary is for another post--preferably one that follows legal proceedings.  My lawyer says to tell you I am kidding.  Anyway, it has been a difficult transition for me, not the least of which includes (physically at least) leaving the family that I have created here.  But on the (very big) up side my kid will get to know his Grandpa which is thrilling for him and for me, and which is only fair after Grandma got a year.  And I am looking forward to being with friends and family.

I will be able to express better my love of Chicago and all of you who are based here, another time.  For now, let's focus on the hurrah for new adventures!  At a minimum, this blog will be more interesting.  And for those of you saying "thank God," bite me.  You're the ones who are supposed to be working right now.  So stay tuned folks--nothing could be further from the fast lane than peaceful prairies.  It's going to be one hell of a ride....

P.S.  As a result of preparations, I will not be posting regularly for the next week--only if I get a chance.  Re-read the glorious posts of days past and look forward to the total craziness that is about to ensue....

Be a Nameless Angel

Looking back at my life, I am appalled at the things that stressed me out as a different and very responsibility-free younger woman.  I suppose the same may be said someday of the current crises, but, man, I hope not.  Anyway, the point is that life contains some stress, in case any of you was unclear on the topic.

But today's post is not about those things that drive us to the edge.  It is about the angels among us who pull us from that brink.  While it is often our friends (particularly my saintly clan) and family who get us through the day, I am referring to those nameless or relatively unknown folks who guide us through our own personal h-e-double-hockey-sticks.  By virtue of a kind word or a helpful gesture, these people are unsung heroes of everyday life.  For example (and let me warn you, this is a demonstration of how easy I can be), not long ago I was having a really lousy day.  My head was a million miles from my body, and I had even blown past my exit on the expressway.  Realizing that, while I like Wisconsin, I was not willing the spend the evening there, I took the first busy street I could find.  I realized then that I was starving and pulled into the true oasis for those everywhere suffering from depression--KFC.  I really had no desire to talk to anyone, but it beat cooking so I ordered a family meal and pretended to myself that my child would help eat the feast that feeds 7.  When I placed my order, an annoyingly chipper voice took it.  She cracked small jokes and I generally ignored her.  When I pulled to the window, I handed her my money without really looking up.  The woman took it and as she handed me my fried feast she said "Honey, it looks like you could use a good night.  I really hope you have one."  I looked up as she smiled at me and saw that she meant it.  The shock kicked me out of my funk for a good while.  I even forgot to snarl at the guy who dumps his garbage in our dumpsters as I pulled into my parking spot.  For a while at least, this nameless woman made life manageable.

Sure, if it will make you be
nice, go ahead and pretend
you are a VS Angel.

My point is that it took this woman nothing more than 5 seconds to make a difference in my life.  Sure, it wasn't a big difference, but as I felt as though the entire world was against me that day, having someone say that she was in my corner was a big deal to me.  And KFC woman is far from alone.  To lesser--and FAR greater--degrees, my life has recently been filled with so many nameless angels and in a time when I really needed them.  What I am really hopeful of is that they are always there, but I am just noticing them more now because I need them more.  Regardless, folks, it takes next to nothing to say a kind word, or to hold a door, or to smile at someone you have never met or vaguely know.  And doing any of these things may just be the one thing someone you don't even know needs to keep him or her on track.

So, please, strive to be someone's nameless angel.  And thank you to my many angels and to all of you who have made tiny imprints on others' hearts.

Wednesday April 6, 2011

Hi folks.  We will be taking a short break today from posting.  But tune in tomorrow for another episode of the ever-changing life of Fast Lane.  Plenty of new adventures ahead.

My Child Makes Me Feel Like a Kid

Simply put, my child makes me feel like a kid.  I mean this in a few different ways, really.  Of course there's the basic child in me who loves to play and finally has a playmate.  I was a bit of a loner as a youngster and while I preferred the company of adults to people my age, I also had a streak that I sometimes wonder if it held back from going completely "kid" like it could.  So now, in essence, I have a pal.  I have heard a mother or two complain about how her husband or partner thinks the second childhood is the only part of being a parent.  When discussing the topic of whether to have children, his eyes glaze over and he imagines afternoons in the park and nights of hide-and-go-seek.  Yeah, well, that was me.  I imagined those things with my kid.  I loved having a baby, but I have been having a blast since he has been able to walk, run, babble and chase.  He's an awesome buddy. 

Then there are the toys.  I know I have been griping about how MANY of them there are, but it's only because I love them.  All of them.  I once sent a photo to my friends of a giraffe I made out of blocks one night when he went to bed.  The other day he got a cool Toy Story 3 scooter from his Aunt Jaime.  The front lights up and Buzz Lightyear spins around.  It rocks.  He loves it.  I love it more.  The only sad part is I can't play with it after dark for fear of waking him.  I wish I were kidding.

Yesterday's client meeting.

But then there's the kid part that I have touched on a bit in other posts here.  Having a child brings out the fear and self-doubt akin only to being a pre-teen.  It's very strange.  I find myself questioning the very things that I built a life around being confident about.  And I do that primarily because I am terrified.  I will stand up, state my name for the group, and fully admit that I was one of those delusionals who seriously thought that my life would not change much upon having a baby.  Yeah, well, as you can see, it did.  But what I really didn't understand was that it would change things I couldn't--the way others viewed me, what I needed (really needed) to get by, and the like.  And that is what is scariest of all.  That insecure, I-just-had-braces-put-on, feeling is back and it brought with it a full face of acne and a flat chest.  And it's not pretty.

I'm sure it's the unknown that is the familiar feeling.  None of us likes that, particularly when we are trying desperately to make our loved ones happy.  But I'm left with the questions: will I grow out of it?  Will I ever feel confident in this new role?  Will he notice if I swipe his favorite stuffed puppy tonight? 
Hard to raise a child when you feel like a kid.

The Never-Ending Pop Quiz

Over the past few months I have received what will undoubtedly be the greatest compliments I could get.  In sum, it has been commented that my child seems to be a really happy baby.  I truthfully understand that this likely has very little to do with me.  But I also believe that I could have screwed this up to the maximum degree and the kid could have been a real-life Chucky.  So that's it, right?  Test passed, problems solved?  Um, I'm starting to think not....

In my job for the most part there are problems and there are solutions.  There are tasks that need to be taken care of and they have set deadlines.  I love the deadlines.  A brief must be filed with the court by day X.  Your paper must be no more than 15 pages.  You write it, revise it, sometimes stay up all night changing it, but by day X you have accomplished your feat.  You may win or lose, but you know that you have succeeded in finishing the task.

Not so much with this kid thing.  It's funny because these days whenever someone makes the "happy" comment, I sort of freak.  What if I do something differently and he's suddenly unhappy?  What if it was the strawberry Eggos that made him happy and I switch to blueberry and he goes ballistic and never recovers?  What if my mom no longer being here changes him from George H.W. Bush to George W.?  What if the fact that he is an only child leads him to the path of narcisistic delusional?  Oh, sorry, didn't mean to repeat that last "what if" (kidding).  But you get my point.  Yay, I have raised a child who seems happy even to the untrained eye.  So where is my "you accomplished something" prize?  I'm realizing that this thing is ongoing.  Which is great on the one hand--if you truly screw up, you may not scar the child for life.  But it's also frustrating because it never ends!

I guess we just have to learn to take each victory as it comes and not be so hard on ourselves for the failures.  And, truly, I'm glad it never ends.  Not only do I get an awesome kid to play with, that leaves more victories to be won.  Please let there be victories....

Suggestion Sunday

Hi folks!  Today's Suggestion Sunday involves those of you tuning in from the very Mid-West--Iowa.  Below are a few suggestions for family-friendly activities for the coming week.  Please keep the suggestions (and location ideas) coming! 

Ongoing Library Programs:

Baby Rhyme Time

Central Library

1000 Grand Avenue

The library offers free themed storytelling for parents and babies (ages newborn to 18 months).

invite a friend

Ages: 2 & under

Time: 10am

Cost:

Daily 04/08/11

Shows:

Goldilocks and the Three Bears

Des Moines Playhouse

831 42nd Street

A creative participatory story theater program for preschoolers re-imagines the classic tale.

invite a friend

Ages: 4-6

Time: 9:30am, 10:30am & 1:30pm

Cost: $5

And for those far more creative than I out there, try these cool tips for building a portable puppet theater.  http://www.hgtv.com/decorating/how-to-build-a-puppet-theater/index.html.  Seriously, anything from HGTV is over my head, but it looks super cool.  Feel free to bring it by any time this week....

Have a super Sunday, all!

A New Low

We have frequently discussed the fact that I am a bit selfish.  Ok, fine, you probably know me well enough to know that I can be extremely selfish.  But a thought entered my mind the other day that was, well, a new low for me.  It was a fleeting thought, mind you, but it was bad.

As I have mentioned, my son is about to have a birthday.  Because of the mass-insanity that is currently my life, this birthday is not getting quite the attention it deserves.  We are having a get-together and a handful of his friends (and mine) will be there and he will eat cake and all that.  But there will be no professional photographer.  There will be no live elephants and nobody will be dressed as any animal or alien character.  It will be a quiet affair that hopefully he will nonetheless enjoy.  As part of this celebration, he will likely get gifts.  It is possible that among these gifts there will be a gift card or two.  So there is my background.  Now for the horrible thought part....

We have been rearranging our finances and as a result I have had to do without a number of my completely ridiculous perks in life.  For example, I have not had a massage in months.  Poor me.  By way of further example, I traded in my insanely and unnecessarily expensive car for something much more practical.  You get the picture.  So the other day I was online looking at wine refrigerators.  I don't particularly need a wine refrigerator.  Hell, NOBODY particularly needs a wine refrigerator.  But I want one.  And as we have discussed, once upon a time that would have been enough to buy it.  Well, upon realizing that such would not be the case, I actually had the following thought.  I thought to myself:  you know, if the baby gets a Target gift card, I could use that toward the fridge....

WHAT IS WRONG WITH ME?  I would never in a billion years actually do it.  But it was the matter-of-fact, problem-solving way in which I thought it that scared me.  What the heck?  Who would do that???  Sure, the Lohans and maybe the Cyrus family, but generally I don't keep with that crowd (well, I haven't had them to dinner in months, anyway).  Awful.  Simply awful. 

And so, my son, if you read this years from now, know that I didn't even come close to going through with it.  No need to sue mommy.  For this, anyway.

Goodbye Grandma (For Now)

I know that I have mentioned once or twice that my mom has been living in Chicago with us for the past year.  What I haven't mentioned, though, is how much this gesture has affected both my life and that of my son.

I was given an extremely short time in which to decide whether I would ever have a child.  My mother (I now know) had assumed that she would never be a grandmother.  It was something that she had come to terms with.  Not knowing this, I was nervous about telling her that I was going to have a baby.  Ok, it's not so much the baby part as the "and I'm not getting married any time soon" part.  Fully recognizing now how silly it was, I actually had butterflies as she opened her birthday card to find an ultrasound photo.  She went absolutely insane with joy.  And it was this complete high of happiness that I initially thought led her to agree to move to Chicago for a year to help me and to get to know her grandson. 

At first, I didn't know what to think.  I was suddenly thrown into a situation where not only would I have a new little person in my life, I would (for the first time in over a decade) have an adult involved in my daily life.  My mother had never known me as a grown up, really, and I worried that we wouldn't survive the year.  I couldn't have been more mistaken had I tried.

Over the past year I have been so blessed to have a friend, a partner, a confidante and a mother, all wrapped up in one incredible woman.  We have been through a lot of ups and downs and have learned a lot from and about each other.  And together we have met and learned a lot about this precious little boy who brought us together.  From allowing me a few "adult" moments in my life to letting me be a child once in a while, my mother has brightened each and every day of the past 365 through her generosity.  And I cannot begin to describe how much my son adores his Gram-ma-ma-ma. 

Tonight my mom heads back to sunshine and warmth and the life that she put on hold for us.  She has been our safety net and our own sunshine and we will miss her dearly each and every single day.  But we will also be eternally grateful for every moment we had with her.  And, as it's impossible to stop life from changing (boy, don't I know that one these days), we look forward to seeing her in new places and with new excitement. 

So, my dear mother, thank you beyond words for the gift that you have given me.  Our little boy and I love you very much.