BrooklynGirl

Excuse Note

Apologies for not posting last week, but I was trapped under two snotty children and one large freelance project, but today the snot is receding and the project is done.  Done. Done. Done.

The work thing, well, I still don't know.  I don't think I'm doing very good work, whether because of lack of time, focus, or actual skill (the work in question is copyediting).  Then again, I have always been pretty hard on myself in terms of work product.  Back in school, I was the annoying girl who walked out of a test proclaiming that she'd failed it only to learn later that she'd actually gotten a 93.  Not that a 93 is perfect, but it's not failing.  The thing is: it wasn't manufactured concern--I actually did think I had failed--and it didn't matter how many times I repeated the cycle; the concern was always the same.

With work, I've rarely finished a project and sat back to bask in the glow of a job well done.  I almost always feel I've been inadequate in some way--even when I've had unlimited time.  Now that my time is strictly rationed, I feel even worse.    When I wrote about this before, several of you chimed into remind me of the joys of doing a half-assed job, and I'm trying to embrace that, but it's hard because I'm only just trying to establish myself as a freelancer and most of  my work has come through friends who I don't want to hang out to dry with my less than stellar work.

Alas.

*****

For mother's day I took myself out for some long overdue bra shopping, with a proper fitting and the whole thing.  Good Lord.  We don't need to get into my newly determined bra size, but I will confess that I didn't realize this particular size actually existed. 

But How Will It Affect Property Values?

Apparently, Darren Starr (of Sex & the City fame) is thinking about creating a "dramady" set in my neighborhood.

Oh dear.

I find the notion hilarious.  In New York City, "Park Slope" is code for all kinds of things: overly earnest helicopter parents, maternal entitlement (it's always the mothers who take the rap for these things), uber organic crunchiness, yuppie gentrification run amok.  You name it; we're destroying the city with it.

But I don't care.  I love my neighborhood.  I do.  I've really never encountered any of the ridiculousness that it is theoretically known for--or, if I have, it's been easily negotiated.  Yes, my kids have been known to accompany my husband and I to a bar where The Boy eats french fries while we swill beer (no, not this bar).  Yes, I regularly suborn wanton acts of vandalism when I 
permit The Boy to draw with chalk on the sidewalk in front of our apartment.  Yes, I take my stroller--sometimes my double stroller!--into a coffee shop, and it's possible we've left a Goldfish an organic Cheddar bunny or two behind.

I know this little life isn't dramady worthy (Next week: BrooklynGirl attempts to run her dishwasher at night without waking her temporarily sleeping children and contemplates folding laundry!), but I'd love to see what mischief I'm supposed to be up to.

(Kinda) Working for a Living

I thank you for your thoughts on working.  I knew you'd get it.  In the last few days, people have started returning my calls and emails, I've signed on to a new (small, short-term) project for an existing client, and a blogger who shall remain anonymous until she's given me permission to call her out and sing her  praises out has referred a possible new client my way.

So I'm not quite as invisible as I was.

One thing I've been kicking around is the notion of "being economically dependent on a man."  It didn't even occur to me that I was until I read Cat's comment,  which is curious (no harm, no foul Cat).  I just hadn't really thought of it in precisely those terms, and I think I have something further to say about it, but I don't know what it is yet.

However, on a slightly related topic (ahem!), The Husband and I saw Macbeth last night.  Man, is that a different play to a former (and always?) infertile woman who has delivered two children by cesarean section than it was to a  high school sophomore!    Has anyone reading seen this particular production and/or have a hankering to talk about Shakespeare?

(Not) Working for a Living

As happens from time to time in these parts, I've started to think again about work. 

I am just happier when I'm doing something outside the home.  I have sympathy for parents who have to work for financial reasons but really would prefer not to, but I'm on the other side of that: I'm struggling to find a job that pays me enough that I can work.    And it's humbling: to be a 38-year old who used to think of herself as an overachiever who can't find a job that pays at least $18/hour after taxes.* 

Part-time teaching last year was emotionally and intellectually rewarding,  but financially challenging, and regardless, my position, which was funded by discretionary spending, no longer exists.  There's private tutoring, which can pay $50 per hour and up, but after school/early evening would be a complicated time to be away from home, and I'm not really sure how to break in to that racket anyway.

So, I'm back to editing--ideally freelance and from home.  From time to time I apply for jobs on craigslist or wherever, and if I do get a response, the job is invariably in-house and pays $10/hour.  In a fit of industriousness, I recently reached out to former colleagues in an attempt to network and the response rate has been discouraging.  Professionally, I feel just about invisible.

I'm try to live in the moment and just savor this time with the kids--the mornings in the park, the  early evenings in the bath (they have begun sharing a bath and though it's wet and messy, it's generally hilarious), the occasional joys of the synchronous nap--and I know that it's okay to not have another job right now.   

But I worry that I will never work again, that in 5 years they will be in school and child care will be less of a struggle, and I will be 43 and invisible.  And it scares me.   

*This is my current sitter's hourly rate--assuming we could find a mutually workable schedule.  There are less expensive sitters out there, but this is the general ballpark for taking care of two kiddos in my neighborhood.

Letting (Yourself) Go

It's a cliche, really, to talk about how easy it is to let yourself go when you're a stay at home parent, but man, am I just...gone.

My standards were not that high to begin with.  I mean, yes, before kids, I showered every morning, blew my hair dry, put on a touch of make up, and wore different, clean clothes everyday, but I wasn't a fashionista, didn't have a rigid exercise plan, and was not a regular at the nail salon.

But now?  Oh, it's scary.   I recently hit this bottom: after wearing a set of clothes all day Sunday, I realized that I hadn't taken any pajamas out of my bedroom (where The Girl sleeps) so I just slept in my  clothes.  I wore the same clothes to take The Boy to school the next morning, swearing I would shower and change when I got home (which of course I promptly forgot), and because I also forgot to get the pajamas before The Girl went down for the night, I slept in the same clothes again.

Ewwwww.

I've since showered, changed, and burned the offending clothes, but the shame lingers on.

Six Things

The last two nights have been better.  It never fails that whenever I bitch and moan about sleeplessness, I hear stories about people who've had it much, much worse, and then I’m embarrassed. So consider the below a gigantic change of subject, courtesy of Rebeccah:

Here are the rules to the game:

1) Link to the person that tagged you.
2) Post the rules on your blog.
3) Share six non-important things/habits/quirks about yourself.
4) Tag at least 3 people at the end of your post and link to their blogs.
5) Let each person know they have been tagged by leaving a comment on their blog.
6) Let the fun begin!

Here we go:

1.  Mismatched sheets make me uncomfortable.  My life is not particularly neat and tidy, but it has always included sheet sets, the way nature intended it.

2.   I don't get Amy Winehouse.  Her voice isn’t bad, but when your whole schtick is denial, well, that just seems sad.

3.  I could eat nothing but cheese and bread for the rest of my life and die happy.

4. I have a fantasy about being on What Not to Wear, but I think the shame upon viewing my secret footage could do me in.

5.  I like chocolate and I like ice cream, but I don't particularly like chocolate ice cream. 

6. I’ve never had a Big Mac.

I'm tagging Cat, Cat, and Kate.

 

Electoral Stream of Consciousness

I couldn't wait to vote for Bill Clinton.  It was the first time I voted in a presidential election, and I thought he was going to change the world--truly I did.  He was so inspiring, so charismatic, so smart.

He did some amazing things while he was in office: establishing FMLA (which, though wholly inadequate, was a good start), nominating Ruth Bader Ginsburg to the Supreme Court, getting control over the federal deficit.  He also did some less than amazing things: the embarrassing compromise of "Don't Ask, Don't Tell," the directive authorizing extraordinary rendition, and, of course, that little problem with the intern.

Going into this primary, I had assumed I would vote for another Clinton:  she's less charismatic than Bill, but she's smart, and she's the senator from my state, which makes her more likely to represent (or at least be aware of) the issues that concern me.

But the Obama juggernaut is hard to ignore.  When I hear him speak, I feel the same way I felt about Bill Clinton back in the day.   It makes me believe that change is possible, that we can recover from the legacy of the Bush presidency.   I worry that his optimism is the result of naivete and inexperience--and that worry alone makes me reconsider Hillary Clinton.

She gets a bad rap.  There are people who hate her--hate her--for  reasons I just don't understand.  My mother is one of these.  The hatred is irrational and immutable; it makes me want to vote for Clinton just as a kick in the teeth to the haters (sorry mom).

But it is the hatred that, I think, makes Obama the stronger candidate in the general election. 

I would like to take my daughter into the voting booth so that, with one pull of the lever, she can see a whole new world open to her, but I don't think I'll know who has the best chance of  doing that until I draw the curtain.

Real Estate

Recently,  we had some friends and family in town and because it was so damn cold outside, we spent a lot of time cooped up in our 800 square foot apartment.  And any 800 square foot apartment that contains a jumperoo gets small very quickly--and then it starts shrinking. 

No one actually came out and said, "How can you live like this?" but it was the subtext in every conversation we had. 

I saw their point.  The things I love most about my apartment, my neighborhood, my borough, and my city are not obvious when it's too cold to go to the park or linger over cookies outside the bakery or window shop on 7th Ave or wander down the boardwalk at Coney Island.

Recently, we started exploring other housing options in the city.  We went to see that rare species, a house vaguely close to where we live now that costs less than a million dollars and it was...awful.  The whole thing tilted backwards, hadn't been updated since the 70s (or maybe the 60s), and was at the very top of our price range--not including the hundreds of thousands of dollars in repairs the house would likely need.

So, just for kicks, we started looking at listings to see what the same amount of money could buy us in the suburbs.    I know I'm late to the party here, but good Lord, it's a paradise out there!  The square footage!  The backyards!  The 1.5 bathrooms!  It's enough to get us in the car to take a look for ourselves.

We're not ready to do anything rash.  There's a lot to consider: a commute from the suburbs would give my husband much less time with the kids (and would mean more solo parenting for me).  My own professional life would be affected: my teaching certification in NY state is already a mess because I haven't been working; who knows what would happen in a brand new state?  Also, there's the fact that almost all our friends are here in the city.  How hard will it be to build a new social life?  Finally, there's that plunging housing market that gives one pause over just about everything.

Besides, what would I call my blog?

Resolved

In 2008 I hope to:

1) Suck up the sleeplessness;

2) Be more adventurous in activities with the kids;

3)  Find a way to make some money;

4) Cook more, eat better, and help my kids do the same;

5) Keep the apartment cleaner--either by figuring out how to do it myself or paying someone to do it for me (see item #3);

6)  Explore other housing alternatives, be they in the city or the suburbs--not necessarily to make a change, but to be aware of the options;

7) Commit to this blog or find another avenue for self-reflection and connection;

8) Incorporate physical exercise into my life;

9) Visit my brother and his family;

10) And last but not least, spend time alone with my husband.

And you?

A Little More About Me

Where was I?  Ah yes, asking for help.  I did call my friend and she did come over, and it was helpful, but also hard.  She is a mom albeit with a younger child so she still has notions--the very notions I had once upon a time--that good parents don't let their kids watch TV or fingerpaint with their applesauce or jump off the coffee table.

And I should admit, the person I do not have difficulty asking  for help is my poor husband.  Somehow it's easier to be a basket case in front of him.

*****

And now, an interview courtesy of Cat:

Now that you have The Boy and The Girl, are you leaving the possibility of more kids to chance, or are you definitively finished building your family?

This should be easier to answer, but when I had the opportunity to decide definitively and get my tubes tied, I couldn't do it.  Realistically, practically, we are done: taking care of the kids we have is challenging enough, but that baby lust is a powerful thing.

Do you have plans to go back to teaching?

Yes.  Right now, I’m not ready to commit to the inflexible schedule and time away from my family. Plus, my salary (as a new teacher) wouldn't cover the cost of childcare…which is appalling on so many fronts.  Right now my plan is to try to find some freelance editorial work (I did this in a previous professional life) until I can find a way to make teaching work.

As a second-time mom, was there anything you expected to be able to manage easily with The Girl that turned out to be just as hard (or harder, or hard in a different way) as the first time around? And was there anything you were dreading that turned out to be much easier than the first time?

Harder than expected: giving formula without feeling guilty.  I thought I had made my peace with this, but apparently I was wrong. Easier than expected: co-sleeping.  God, I was terrified of squishing The Boy for the longest time, but The Girl just seems to sleep better in our bed. When she sleeps at all, that is.

What is the craziest, most out-of-character thing you've done? Would you do it again?

After I got laid-off from my job in 2001, I used some of  my severance to go to Ireland by myself for two weeks. Looking  back, it makes me wish I had traveled more--although not always alone.

How did you and BrooklynBoy meet?

Our eyes met over a keg at a college party nineteen years ago.  Yes, nineteen years (we had our eighth wedding anniversary last week).  He was cute in a bad boy way that was irresistible.  Now, he's irresistible in ways it didn't occur to me to think of at the time.

Anyone else there dying to reveal their secret self?  If so, email me or post below.