October 18, 2005
Guy: So what are you going to do? Do you have another job lined up?
Me: No. I'm hoping to pull together enough work to make Bear's tuition at a Montessori. Maybe a little more.
Guy: How?
Me: Writing, I hope. Maybe some technical writing.
Guy: Not full-time?
Me: No, no... Full-time taking care of Bear. When he's at school, stay at home stuff.
Guy: I give you 3 months, tops.
Me: What do you mean?
Guy: You're just not the type to sit around eating bon-bons, you know?
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October 17, 2005
1) I dream of being a Sous Chef, with a specialty in sauces.
2) The songs 'You're in my Heart' (Rod Stewart) and 'The Space Between' (Dave Matthews) always make me stop. And listen. And go somewhere else in my mind.
3) I am a radical believer in random acts of kindness and beauty.
4) When I watch my son sleep, it almost always makes me cry in wonder.
5) On Saturday, I had an excise biopsy of a small lump under my left arm. Now I have 4 ugly black stitches.
6) I don't have my Project Manager Professional certification - it became industry standard long after I got into the career. I'm on the fence about how I feel about that, and whether I should get it.
7) My favorite Sr. Vice President has a round face and a tragic combover and I have such a work crush on his mind.
I don't like Mondays.
9) Lilacs are blessings.
10) My favorite chef is my mom.
11) I used to be naturally very happy. I hope to be again.
12) The color of blue just after the sun has set. Mmmm.
13) I fantasize about having (ahem) relations in the cab of an 18-wheeler. (With CD, of course!)
14) Went on a long bike ride with Bear on Sunday. Want to do that alot more.
15) I am a free spirit.
16) When my boss asked me if I was staying at the job because I was hoping for some kind of salary bump to entice me to stay, I couldn't stop myself from laughing.
17) Some people never worry about being able to look themselves in the mirror. I don't understand that.
1
Every so often, I go vegetarian for a while.
19) I have no interior decorating skills. At all.
20) I believe that love, once given, lasts a lifetime - even if it just in memory.
OK, your turn!
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October 13, 2005
Or not.
(*ahem* I seem to have thrashed my Individual Archive Template into an ugliness heretofore never envisioned by human eyes. If anyone has ANY idea how to fix it (*cough* forgot to make a copy of the good one)... well, I'm offering chocolate here. The good stuff.)
Posted by: Elizabeth at
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October 11, 2005
I grok.
The good news was that there was a way to be home with my son and make enough to suport this family through the dark times. On the other hand, I have gained 50 pounds and aged 20 years since I went back to work. My mouth seems to relax into a frown. I rub my chest red trying to ease the tightness. And lately I have felt like a firecracker looking for a match. My patience is shot; my mood sour.
I've been dreaming, all these years. In the back of my tired mind. That one day things would be so much better, stronger, and in a rush of love and compassion, he'd get on a white charger and race to my rescue. Wrap me in his arms, and tell me everything was all right now. That I didn't have to carry it alone anymore.
And then, everything would be all right. Disney bluebirds would chirp in the mornings. And everytime my nose twitched, we'd win the lottery.
No, really.
My therapist said that I had to be my own hero. I guess I started today. When my boss and I got into it, she made some crack about my future career with Mega and I laughed. Next thing you know, I was telling her I was quitting my job.
Although I agreed to stay until they find my replacement.
Cue the frigging bluebirds.
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October 04, 2005
I asked around, and one woman told me to use dried peas to hold the dough in place. Another cook told me she been using the same bowl of washed pebbles as weights for over 20 years. So I dug up handfuls of tiny stones and scrubbed them clean and carefully laid them down into my crusts.
And that's how I made pebble pie.
You see, no one had told me that you needed a layer of parchment paper between the pebbles or peas and the dough. I guess it seemed obvious. But as I chomped down on that apple & rock pie a la mode, all that was obvious to me was that these women must have been a lot better at picking stuff out of crust. Then again, maybe I am slow.
Today, I took Bear to the new doctor to get cleared to go back to school. Part of me was dreading it, because the last day or so - as Bear has improved - has been a very special time for him and I. We have spent hours cuddling on the couch and reconnecting. And I know that once he goes back to school, I will have to re-enter the whirlwind of stress and power plays that is my job.
But that's my shit, not his. And the sooner he gets back to life as regularly scheduled, the happier he will be. So off we went, and the doctor certified him as healthy and wonderful and raring to go.
He raced ahead as we exited the exam room and the doctor looked at me and said "You are, for lack of a better word, ballsy."
I got that confused wrinkle in my head - the one that says "huh?".
"Chutpah, ma'm. You got it. Most mothers are in here demanding MRI's if their children have that kind of fever just a day."
You know, that didn't make things any clearer.
"Normally," she explained to my Joey-like expression of interested ignorance, "when we tell a parent that we can not do any more for a child and that only a hospital is a logical next step..."
"Did I do something wrong?" I asked.
"No, no..." she said, patting my arm. "Look, he's fine... perfect. You certainly listen to your instincts."
She told me that Bear's fever - at 10 days - is the longest she's ever had a patient go. And that she and her partners couldn't believe we didn't bring him back to the hospital when it got bad again on Thursday.
So, yeah they'd told me that we should check him back in at Children's if he didn't improve. But his fever never hit 104f again and CD and I felt that while he was uncomfortable and sick - he wasn't in danger. But now she was making it seem like their advice to us had been some kind of code for "wrap your child in a blankie and race him in"?
The doctor told me no, that wasn't what she meant. But I got the sense as I walked away that I was missing something obvious. That I'd somehow been a bad parent. In a way much worse than pebble pie.
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