Privacy Please

Many of you know how I feel about privacy.  I have...issues...when it comes to what others know about me.  Sure, I will "anonymously" tell my innermost fears and thoughts and joys to all 4 of you, but I'm such a freak, I won't even join Facebook.  That's right, I am the last human being under the age of 80 who does not have a Facebook page.  More than that, I ask my friends and family not to post photos of me and my kid on their pages.  I am a huge, huge, hermit.

When I moved back to Montana, it was with no small amount of reservations as to the intimacy of the place.  Sure, it's huge.  But I can tell you it doesn't feel that way.  Everyone is related to everyone else.  I'm actually not kidding.  I can't tell you the number of people who turned out to be long-lost kin when I walked around meeting the people in my office.  It's hilarious and disturbing at the same time.  So I went in with my eyes (my very frightened eyes) wide open.  But, still, I cannot wrap my head around the amount of time here spent talking about everyone else.

Many of you have heard this before.  So what has set me off this week?  A story told to me by a friend.  She oversees a number of employees at a local bank.  Apparently, one of her employees was busted doing something that still makes me want to cry.  The woman walked up to a customer who she casually knew and said "Oh, hey, does Cindy cut your hair?  Mine too!"  When the customer was startled by the woman's statement, the woman continued, "Yeah, I saw the check you wrote her."

I wish I was kidding.

A less outrageous, but still bizarre, example comes courtesy of a family acquaintance.  This woman loves nothing more that to dish on people about town.  She clearly takes an unhealthy joy in telling stories about people.  One day she asked me if I had met the couple around the corner from the house I am renting.  I had and they are very nice.  She proceeds to tell me all about how she works with the brother of the guy and it turns out that the wife just found out she has colon cancer and they're debating treatment and it's going to put off their fertility treatments.  Are you kidding me?  These people are nice, decent people I have talked with a handful of times.  Why in the world do I need to know about their medical histories?

In what world is all of this ok?  In fairness, it wasn't here, either--the employee was reprimanded and the acquaintance was scolded for taking joy in the trials of others.  But, still!  Why others feel as though they have the right to know each and every detail about their neighbors' lives, is beyond me.  And from what I understand, it's not just a Montana thing.  And sure, I'm guilty of minor gossip offenses.  I have been known to recount some of the crazy things I come across in my job (without names or descriptors, and only to Chicago folks, of course).  BUT.  Am I off-base in thinking that the detailed sale of information is NUTS??  Do you know people who are like this??  Please send detailed stories, with names.

Maybe, Just Maybe...

I have no idea whose baby
this is, but he seems happy.

Like all children, mine gets his fair share of compliments from perfect strangers.  From "you are so cute," to "I love your hat," to "wow, you really managed to demolish that grocery aisle in record time," people aren't shy about expressing their opinions.  But in all seriousness, there is one compliment that takes my breath away.  I can't get over when someone says "he looks like a really happy kid."

To dissect this into its most awful form, I probably like this sentiment because it has something to do with me.  Don't get me wrong--the grocery store one does, too, but I ignore that.  But as a control freak, I am fully aware that, apart from a lot of praying and a daily bag of mini donuts, I had nothing whatsoever to do with my kid being cute.  None of us does.  And they're ALL cute.  As much as I would like to claim otherwise, I didn't make the monster hat that gets rave reviews.  And I certainly didn't have anything to do with his ability to "whistle" in a high-pitched squeak that makes Papa chuckle with pride.  But I do like to hope that I have something to do with him being a happy kid, and so I get choked up every time someone says it.

But don't get me wrong--I am not under ANY illusion that I am doing anything right.  Oh, no.  I am not aware of any parent who does think so and, if you do, you are probably one of those parents whose noses I secretly want to shove pencils up.  And by the way, your kid is likely a jerk.  Anyway, you see, I get all emotional at the thought of confirmation my kid might be happy, because maybe...just maybe...today I didn't completely screw him up beyond all repair.  Maybe we can get away with a few thousand in therapy when he's older, as opposed to visiting him in prison.  Sick, right?  Well, welcome to parenthood. 

I don't think we're particularly hard on ourselves in recognizing all of the many, many, many, many opportunities we have in a day to screw our kids up.  I just think this is...well...hard.  When you make little decisions like whether to allow him to ride forward-facing in the car or whether he can watch TV, society is on your back.  When you make big decisions like packing him up and driving to an entirely different planet, you are on your back.  Are any of your choices right?  Unfortunately you'll never really know.  But if you can have little tiny confirmations that your child may actually be enjoying his life, well, that is everything you could possibly want in the world.  And maybe, just maybe, everyone will be ok after all.

Out of Focus

I am working on two years into this whole "parenthood" thing, and I can honestly say that I am still surprised at what a huge deal these little buggers are.

What I mean is, I am still surprised at what a massive overhaul he has done on my entire way of thinking.  I'm not going to lie--I had this mental image of my life not really being all that different, but-for a cute tiny creature that sat docile on the couch and watched me prepare the world's greatest legal briefs while the foremost restaurants in Chicago brought me food and my friends and I grabbed cocktails before dashing home to our perfectly balanced lives.  Um, yeah, that's totally what reality looks like.

But the funny part is, apart from being REALLY crabby about missing my friends and Chicago food, I don't really mind that my life doesn't look like that.  It's unsettling, though.  What is the most strange part is that I am retraining the focus of my brain.  For over a decade, my entire life was my job.  It defined me.  It took up all of my time (blissfully, with my friends in tow).  It was my entire world.  Sure, guys came and went and sort of drifted through the world.  But the world was mine and it centered on being the best lawyer I could possibly be.

Now, I still want to be the best I can at my job.  But.  I'm also finding myself unwilling to make it be a 24/7 thing.  Or even a 24/5 thing.  In fact, 4/3 would be nice.  Lately I have been putting in more hours than expected.  And it's this strange tug-of-war in my head and soul and I always know who is going to win.  I have the impulse to stay as long as needed and do whatever it takes.  But I know that I won't.  There's a little guy sitting at the door, waiting for me to walk through it.  And not letting him down beats out any of the goals my ego sets.  It's just so strange to me both that it's an internal battle and that the old me loses hands-down.

Oh, it manifests in other strange ways too.  I used to fantasize about having enough money to travel the world or buy whatever I wanted in terms of clothes and accessories and stuff like that.  But this morning, I literally told the nanny that I fantasize about having enough money to buy a much larger refrigerator.  And I do.  Seriously.  I scour the papers for the exact one that I want and I sigh as I stare longingly at it.  It's very, very weird.

Like any time your focus goes awry, it's a bit unsettling to let go of your previous notions of what life looks like.  I'm sure that is true of any big change.  Doesn't make it good or bad (though I certainly consider mine good), it's just different.  Guess the control freak needs to stop trying to make it clear, and just keep walking.

Bed Bug

Argh.  My kid has always been a pretty decent little sleeper.  Within the past 6 or so months, he feels as though he must first protest the concept of sleep, but that lasts about 3 minutes, then he is fine.  Usually.  But lately a new issue has arisen that promises to turn both of our worlds upside down.

A while back his caretaker informed me that he had taken a header out of the crib. I may have mentioned this--it totally freaked me out.  Naturally I responded in a calm and collected manner--I promptly emailed every parent I know and asked what the heck do I do.  Of course I knew what to do.  It was time to put him in a big boy bed.  But I couldn't do it.  A big boy bed meant that he would be free.  Unrestrained.  The world was his.  Danger was imminent.  And, as awful as this sounds, it meant the few precious minutes between his bed time and mine weren't, well, mine.  Besides, it had only happened once.

Until now.  That's right, it has happened again.  Not to mention the at least once per day acrobatics that come with him pretending to hurl himself out of the crib and onto the floor.  Plus now he's older and taller, so it is much scarier.  And so, with a sigh, I resigned myself to the fact that he is growing up and so should his sleeping arrangements.

The funny part is, I keep thinking of excuses not to do it today, while at the same time having a coronary that he'll fly again.  It's a weird tug-of-war taking place in my head and my heart.  Really?  THIS is complicated?  What the heck?  Nobody told me that something as simple as "change his bed" would be a life-altering issue full of guilt and worry and irritation.  What if he doesn't sleep?  What if the nanny can't get him to sleep?  What if he hurts himself roaming his room?  Where should I put the night light?  What if he gets out?  When should I do it so it's least disruptive?  Why didn't anyone tell me this about parenthood?  They did?  Oh.  Well WHY DIDN'T I GET IT?  Not that I would change a thing, obviously.  It's just so strange to me that a seemingly small, bizarre event can send shock waves through my life.  Parenthood is strange.

Now excuse me, I have to take a nap under my desk.  Better stock up while I can.

A Fresh Start

Happy New Year carpoolers and fast laners!!!  Here's wishing you a very happy and healthy 2012.

I have been thinking a lot about the whole "new year" thing.  Really, the entire concept is very arbitrary.  Someone at some point in history decided that our lives should be divided into calculable periods.  And, hey, as a control freak, I love that.  It's kind of funny, though, how much stock we put into it.  Birthdays...holidays...years...it is all meaningful to us, and is all some random unit of measurement decided upon by prior cultures.

BUT.  It's all in how you look at it.  This year I decided that the turnover to 2012 would be a real start for me and my many, many friends in need of a new beginning.  And it's been great!  For all 2 days, things have seemed fresh and hopeful.  And I love it.  I really do think it has a lot to do with your mentality on it all, but who knows.  And who cares.  All I know is that so far 2012 has brought new babies for those praying for a little one, new jobs for those floundering, and new hope for me that everything is going to be ok.  I love that we are given this clean slate--regardless of the fact that we choose to do so. 

The other day I mentioned to a friend the fact that we have 366 days in 2012 of opportunity.  (Yes, I suck at math, but this one was intentional--2012 is a leap year).  Anyway, that is a ton of chances for really good things to happen to each of us.  Each day brings the possibility that something awesome will happen.  And most of us already know that we can survive the bad stuff if it happens to be an "off" day, so that's no concern.  So, I'm trying to think of it as each day brings a chance for awesomeness.  We'll see how long that lasts, but for today, it's a good time.  And, really, what more can we ask for than a good day today?