Flippant

I was headed out somewhere the last time I wrote here. Or headed back from somewhere. That matters little now with everything so irrevocably changed. I'm both stunned and somehow unsurprised by how different everything sits today. Flying over Minnesota for the second time in two weeks to the day. A month ago I was heading to Washington D.C. A couple of weeks before that everthing crashed in on my life. I suppose everthitng since has just been a series of aftershocks. The thing about aftershocks, they are scarier than any initial earthquake., eben a really nasty one, espiially a nasty one. Even a small tremor, following a quake, will illicit instant terror, viscerally harken you back to the unexpected, flashes of loss and discruction. I suppose that I am now living in that state if fear now, waiting for the next aftershock to hit. Unclear of where it will come from or how much more damage it leave in it's wake. The problem, as I see it now, is that I live in a very tectonically active part of the world and things have been shakey for a long, long time.

The Suck

Today has been an exercise in logistical sadomasochism. Everything has gone entirely wrong. There are fifty people camped out at airport hotels from anchorage to sitkat to Cordova, Petersburg, Ketchikan, and Seattle waiting for a fucking cloud to fly away. One cloud. That has planted itself right on top of the airport in Juneau, Alaska where all of these people whom I recruited and whom I am supposed to be training aren't. I am on an airplane heading north from Seattle. Heading back to anchorage where I won't be getting on a plane in the morning. Won't be heading to Juneau. Won't be doing a lobby day. Won't be seeing my husband. Won't get to run the flume trail. I did get to run in Seattle. Two Mormons in a row. All alone in the sun and a slight morning chill. A morning chill that is warmer than anyday I have had in the past four months. I love being a runner, a singular entity in forward motion, throughly earning the thin layers of spandex that separate my skin from the air. My absolute favorite thing to do in the world is run in a city. Up a hill clogged with tragic or over a freeway on anbridge, getting my strides in while commuters slog through their drive. Espicially on Sunday mornings. My whole adolescent life stared admiringly at Sunday morning runners while I was being packed off to church with my mother. I managed to get in two seven am runs in my trip this weekend, a feat I have never managed in two years of weekend long board meetings. I am acutely proud of that.

Up in the air

I love work travel. LOVE it. Just as soon as I walk into the airport. Getting to the airport is another story. Getting to the airport is a huge pain in the ass. Take the past twenty four hours... Yesterday morning I woke my four year old up at eight am. She had spent Wednesday night in my bed. I woke her up with clothes in hand and got her dressed beforei got her out of bed. By twenty after eight Kiana, the dog, and I were on the road on the way to work. We had a breakfast meeting, a conference going on in the next room all day, and twenty extra people milling around. Thank Christ they had snacks and treats result available all day. My plan had been to head home after the end on my 2:30 meeting. We'd be home by five, liesurly dinner, shed get a good bath. She behaves impeccably well for a four year old in meetings. Shell watch a movie, eat some pizza or a snack, yesterday it was a small group and went on for a long time and after a potty break Kiana ran around in circles around and around and around the huge conference table, not disturbing a thing. We did not get to go home after the meeting. We went back to work. It was after seven when we got back in the car. 8:00 pm before we were eating dinner, on the couch in the playroom, no bath for her, unfinished work stil looming over my head. Packing did not happen last night. Laundry did not get done either. It was well after 10 when we made it to bed. I was up by four, back to work and finishing all the stuuff, well, part of the stuff that needed to happen for work before my 11:00 am flight. Kiana was up before seven thirty. Laundry got done, bags got backed for the first of the two trips I have in the next five days. I suppose my toilertries are set. Kiana ate some breakfast, my dad came to take me to the airport, kianas stepmother came to pick her up for a playfate. I gave her some groceries that will go bad if left in the fridge at my empty house. I was later getting to the airport than I had hoped to be and a few minutes late joining a conference call that I was supposed to be hosting. I think about having a second baby and have no fucking clue how I would do that without a stepmother, without a fallback. I need to cultivate some stay at home mom friends. They are good for back up, right? Hard to do when you work . When you are a professional working mother, espicially a young working mother who is still in the establishing period of a career, you don't get to do stay at home mom things. I never much liked those things when i was at home anyway. I spend most of my time feeling like I am running in forteen different circles at once, never winning any races, barely keeping up with the bare minimum that could be considered acceptable. I am begrudgingly coming to the conclusion that the only way I will ever get my shit together is if I start getting my ass out of bed earlier in the mornings, get in housework and laundry and exercise before anyone else's expectations come into play. This is what I love about work travel. The singular expectations. It's so much easier to meet expectations when the only expectations are to get in nd off a plane in time, be involved in a meeting all day. I can go for a run, without the dog. I can read in bed for hours without feeling guilty about not doing laundry or dishes or vacuuming the floor or cooking or paying bills or playing with my kid. The vino volo is just about the only place that I get to eat out anymore. I always splurge and eat the Rosemary roasted almonds, Christ they are good. I feel so much more productive on work trips than I ever do. In real life. Sad, sad but true.

Up in the air

I love work travel. LOVE it. Just as soon as I walk into the airport. Getting to the airport is another story. Getting to the airport is a huge pain in the ass. Take the past twenty four hours... Yesterday morning I woke my four year old up at eight am. She had spent Wednesday night in my bed. I woke her up with clothes in hand and got her dressed beforei got her out of bed. By twenty after eight Kiana, the dog, and I were on the road on the way to work. We had a breakfast meeting, a conference going on in the next room all day, and twenty extra people milling around. Thank Christ they had snacks and treats result available all day. My plan had been to head home after the end on my 2:30 meeting. We'd be home by five, liesurly dinner, shed get a good bath. She behaves impeccably well for a four year old in meetings. Shell watch a movie, eat some pizza or a snack, yesterday it was a small group and went on for a long time and after a potty break Kiana ran around in circles around and around and around the huge conference table, not disturbing a thing. We did not get to go home after the meeting. We went back to work. It was after seven when we got back in the car. 8:00 pm before we were eating dinner, on the couch in the playroom, no bath for her, unfinished work stil looming over my head. Packing did not happen last night. Laundry did not get done either. It was well after 10 when we made it to bed. I was up by four, back to work and finishing all the stuuff, well, part of the stuff that needed to happen for work before my 11:00 am flight. Kiana was up before seven thirty. Laundry got done, bags got backed for the first of the two trips I have in the next five days. I suppose my toilertries are set. Kiana ate some breakfast, my dad came to take me to the airport, kianas stepmother came to pick her up for a playfate. I gave her some groceries that will go bad if left in the fridge at my empty house. I was later getting to the airport than I had hoped to be and a few minutes late joining a conference call that I was supposed to be hosting. I think about having a second baby and have no fucking clue how I would do that without a stepmother, without a fallback. I need to cultivate some stay at home mom friends. They are good for back up, right? Hard to do when you work . When you are a professional working mother, espicially a young working mother who is still in the establishing period of a career, you don't get to do stay at home mom things. I never much liked those things when i was at home anyway. I spend most of my time feeling like I am running in forteen different circles at once, never winning any races, barely keeping up with the bare minimum that could be considered acceptable. I am begrudgingly coming to the conclusion that the only way I will ever get my shit together is if I start getting my ass out of bed earlier in the mornings, get in housework and laundry and exercise before anyone else's expectations come into play. This is what I love about work travel. The singular expectations. It's so much easier to meet expectations when the only expectations are to get in nd off a plane in time, be involved in a meeting all day. I can go for a run, without the dog. I can read in bed for hours without feeling guilty about not doing laundry or dishes or vacuuming the floor or cooking or paying bills or playing with my kid. The vino volo is just about the only place that I get to eat out anymore. I always splurge and eat the Rosemary roasted almonds, Christ they are good. I feel so much more productive on work trips than I ever do. In real life. Sad, sad but true.

2010 - The List

1. Use every gadget in my kitchen at least once. (Not just the corkscrew.)

2. Go a little easier on the corkscrew.

3. Get back into a regular running habit.

4. Use the gym for more than just swimming with my kiddo.

5. Buy a real bed.

6. Get a kitchen table.

7. Get Wi-Fi that works.

8. Read a non-school related book at least once a month.

9. Do all my school readings prior to class each week.

10. Just get the subscription to Food & Wine Magazine already.

11. Set a goal each month and meet it.

12. Remember to book hair cut and eyebrow wax appointments before they are way overdue.

13. Become a member of the museum and go to the museum at least once per month.

14. Write at least three times per week.

15. Remember to take the grocery bags to the grocery store.

16. Finish the downstairs bathroom.

17. Finish the trim paint upstairs.

18. Plant a garden.

19. Learn to cross country ski.

20. Get  pregnant.

1-180

In junior high I played basketball. I am not much into ball sports and basketball solidified that. Or junior high. Or the combination of the two. Either way. The team I played on was pretty good (which is not to say that I was any good at all, I was tall they needed tall). At one point we were 8-0. I think maybe it went down hill from there. I don't remember. I just remember the 8-0.

Junior high sucked. Sucked. Sucked to the tune of private christian school that I refused to return to by the end of eighth grade at which point I transfered to he huge public school which was scary as hell, worse when I discovered how far behind I was academically...bet it thrilled my parents to pieces to be paying thousands of dollars a year for a sub-par education.

I do know all the words to every pop-ish jesus love song of the 1990's. So, score!

Like basically everyone, I got my period in seventh grade. In the fall. On the way to a babysitting job. Nothing will cement into one's mind the way trying to figure out how the fuck to work a tampon in a guest bathroom while the children you are being paid to care for are down for a nap. Yeah. That shit will stick with you for freaking ever. I even remember the tee-shirt I was wearing. And the overalls. And the Birkenstocks. They were blue and I loved them.

(Aside: I should get new Birkenstocks, I haven't had a pair in maybe ten years. So much cuter than Crocs. Ok, cutermight be a stretch...more organic. Without a doubt.)

So I got my period.

Sixteen years ago.

Which means that I have had the pleasure of one hundred and eighty weeks of cramps, mess, and bleeding. Yeah. That equals 3.46 YEARS of F-U-N!

It would be more like 192, but onetime, once, going on five years ago, I managed to get pregnant. And stay pregnant. And didn't get much of a period at all for just over a year.

--

I got it in my head some time ago that maybe I wanted to have a baby.

I thought it would be fun to have a baby and not be married.

Mostly because it would drive my mother up the wall to have a bastard grandchild.

Absolutlybonkersbatshitcrazyinsane.

And I am just the kind of somewhat begrudging ungrateful shit of a child who would do something like that.

But we weren't settled at all and needed a house and to live and work in the same damn town before we really discussed having a baby in any kind of serious way.

And K needed Two and Three to just be. She had other siblings at her dad's house anyway. Its been good for her to get all the attention here. I am sure that is true.

And then last Christmas, well just after Christmas, we went to visit T's family. His brothers and sister-in-laws and a ton of teenagers and it became abundantly clear to me that we would have to get married if we were going to seriously consider having a child. Because putting aside my own personal glee in making my mother socially uncomfortable, it would be hard for his family, it would be disappointing for them and they were so kind to me and my toddler. And they had been waiting for decades for T to grow into an adult life.

So we bought the house and moved in and got a dog and built a swing set and had friends to dinner and argued over money and lived a life for a while and decided to get married. All the while assuming I suppose that we would have a baby when we were done with all of that, but not actually discussing getting rid of the IUD that I had had put into place to prevent a poorly timed pregnancy.

And we got married, in November, and each of T's five siblings and two of their spouses traveled thousands and thousands of miles to stand up at out wedding.

On the plane ride home I got a call back from my midwife and scheduled an appointment to have the IUD removed two days later. Which was unpleasant as all fucking hell. As unpleasant as having the fucking thing inserted. YEEOUCH!

I simply decided in my head that I would get pregnant immediately. Poof! Just like that. Have a baby in August. Be on to the next chapter.

I was so convinced that it would just Poof! that I went out and bought a pregnancy book. Because, apparently, I didn't read quite enough of those the last time around.

Instead I got a bladder infection, twice, and did two solid rounds of antibiotics.

1-179.

C'est la vie. Try again.

1-180.

That was the last try for awhile. T is leaving for work in a couple of weeks and won't be home again until May.

Start again.

C'est la vie. Wait and see.

Its that same old damn yank that comes back though, I had forgotten the failure that compounds the cramps when you are not on birth control and want to maybe get pregnant. After another month of keeping track of days on a calendar and laying still for 20 minutes after having sex and giving up caffeine. Washing baby clothes and sorting them into sizes and rubbermaid tubs.

I feel older now, not just because I am so much older (five is no small number of years, even in your twenties) I feel more fear about being able to get pregnant and an acute lack of options if I can not. I look around at the Christmas we have not yet celebrated and the presents we have not yet wrapped because the child I have has not yet been here as this is her father's year for the holiday and I just feel empty. Again.

C'est la vie.

More waiting for me.

2009 - A Rundown.

Things I Did in 2009:

Started a new job.

Watched my baby turn three.

Lived with my mother for five and a half months (of 2009 and four months of 2008 which is enough months to cause some serious mental drinking problems.)

Found a house.

Made an offer on the house.

Waited.

Watched.

Fought damn hard for the house.

Attempted to close on the house.

Seven times.

Flew to California with my mother, father, boyfriend, his sixteen year old son, and my three year old.

Went to Disneyland.

Went to a wine tasting.

Got stuck by a volcano. For a week.

Found a dog on the internet.

Moved into the house.

Try to get us out now bitches.

Drove five hundred miles to get a mutt dog from a shelter.

Fell in love with the dog. 

Closed on the house.

Painted. Painted. Painted.

With a three year old and a dog to "help".

Bought a new roof.

Hauled 73 bags of someone else's (and their dog's) crap to the dump.

Biked to work.

Watched as the largest swing set ever was erected in the new backyard.

Barbecued.

Got the worst phone call in the history of human history.

Spent 9 hours in the ER with my baby (and her father).

Got no answers.

 Spent a week shut in with a sick kid.

Got not many more answers.

Ran.

Learned how to run with a dog, boyfriend, and jog stroller in tow.

Ran in a race with a three year old.

Who ran for the first mile.

Then caught a ride.

On my shoulders.

Which led to busting the hell out of my ankles.

Finished five minutes under my goal time.  

Decided to get married.

Before the end of the year.

Brilliant!

Went to the pediatrician no fewer than six times.

Learned how to use an inhaler after my three year old was diagnosed with asthma.

Sent out 100 wedding invitations.

Made a wedding website. (egad).

Traveled to Seattle for work.

Traveled to Boise for work.

Traveled to Seattle again. And again. And again.

Traveled to Juneau with six boxes of stuff for the wedding.

Traveled to Sitka.

Met all of my boyfriend's family.

Got married.

Traveled home.

Got rid of my IUD

Waited.

Traveled to Seattle. Alone.

Read every issue of Vanity Fair, Runner's World, and Food & Wine.

Read some books.

Read bank statements. Cried.

Applied for a new job.

Gave up ccaffeine.

Missed it.

Had thanksgiving with no kids around.

Waited.

Interviewed.

Second interviewed.

 Waited.

Got the job.

Quit the old one two minutes later.

Waited.

Bought presents.

Wrapped them.

Kissed my baby goodbye for the holidays.

Had Christmas with no kids around.

Waited to open presents until baby comes home.

Waited.

Still waiting.

**Just penned a blog post with zero spelling errors.

** Reveled.

Winter

Snow snow snow 18 inches and counting.

Winter Reading

I have some time off coming up. Yesterday marked the end of my fall semester and school does not start back up again until January 20th.. Next Wednesday is my last day of work at the job I am leaving and I do not start the new one until January 4th. My daughter will bbe spending Christmas with her father's family and will be with them from the 23rd to the 1st.

It is going to be quiet up in our house.

It will get a lot quieter if this snow keeps up. Eight inches in the past twenty four hours and no sign of slowing up for the next couple of days.

I would rather not think about discuss how quiet things are going to be after my husband leaves on the 15th of January for his job. For NINTY DAYS. I also do not want to think about how in the hell I am going to walk the dog (currently his job) at 5:30 every morning with a toddler sound asleep in the house. (Pssst...I pretty much think the dog is going to have to suck it up adapt and wait to walk until lunch. Don't tell...)

I have been compiling a list of books that I want to read in all my free time. This is, of course, a work in progress:

Cleaving, Julie Powell -- already started on this one

Hot, Flat, & Crowded, Thomas Friedman

Committed, Elizabeth Gilbert

DMV winter

Vampiress.