everyone's favorite pregnancy pastime: the triage game!

Well, I managed to freak myself right the hell out yesterday. I'd had a nonstop weekend, thanks to the ridic warm weather. I mean, it was 70 degrees. In Michigan. In FEBRUARY. Sucks for apple crops, but it definitely sparked the nesting instinct in me. (Yes, people, I understand my nesting isn't as economically imperative as Michigan's fruit crops, and sorry for making light of the situation.) On Saturday, I finally organized the four thousand bins of baby clothes that I keep shoving around the basement - a teetering tower of Rowan's old clothes, hand-me-downs from probably a dozen different friends, and random toys that I've been meaning to sort through for months. I cleaned out my car, I swept and mopped the house, I vacuumed, I even went for a two-mile walk, which is probably the most I've walked at once since the Women's March in January. And on Sunday, I finished painting Rowan's new closet (nbd just six months after I started painting it), which led to me organizing our embarrassing paint can collection (was able to get rid of 90% of them), which led to me finally setting up the miter saw and cutting pieces for wood cornices for Rowan's windows. And then staining them. And then screwing their brackets in.

Basically, I didn't sit down for two days straight. The nights weren't terribly restful, either, since Rowan has a cold and went on periodic coughing jags throughout her sleep. Sometimes they woke her up, but they always woke me up. By the time Sunday night rolled around, I was tired, I was psyched that I'd gotten so much done...and I realized I hadn't been feeling the baby move around quite as much as I was used to. I chalked it up to being on the move all weekend and dismissed my worries.

Aaaaand then on Monday morning I stumbled on an article written by a woman who'd lost her baby at 28 weeks' gestation. I don't know why I read stuff like this when I'm pregnant. The piece was moving and heartbreaking and informative and important, but not exactly high on the recommended reading list for those of us who are pregnant and have, you know, easily-provoked anxiety issues. I stopped short when I came to a line that said the woman had felt a decrease in fetal movements around 25 weeks.

I'm 24 weeks.

I remembered distinctly something similar happening right around this point in my pregnancy with Rowan, and I even found the blog post I wrote about it. For that freak-out, my OB had recommended drinking some cold juice and sitting down for a little while to see if movement picked up. (It did, that time.) I thought that was hard to manage then, when it was the third day of the summer camp I was directing, but it turns out finding a quiet place to sit down is even harder on a Monday morning as a stay-at-home mom of a three-year-old. I tried anyway, and I felt...nothing. Not only that, I couldn't really remember the last time I'd felt significant movement.

I messaged my OB, who gave me instructions to try lying down on my left side for a long time (like an hour, if I could). But by the time I got her message, I was at the grocery store with Rowan, and I had promised her we would play outside until it was time to go swimming at an indoor pool. I was freaked out enough to nix our outside time, so when we got back from the grocery store, I told Rowan we were going to have some super special extra TV time. That way, I could lay down for awhile and monitor movements without Rowan being all up in my business.

While I could feel Baby shift every now and again, it was nothing compared to the tumbles and kicks I'd grown accustomed to. Had circumstances been different, I might have driven myself to triage right then and there; as it was, Rowan didn't have preschool yesterday and was home, so I needed to find child care for her. J.J. had two crucial meetings that I knew he couldn't skip out on, and my mother-in-law was sick. Now, if it had really been an emergency, of course my mother-in-law would've taken her, or I could have called my sister, who was off work yesterday. But I was vacillating between convincing myself I was overreacting and denying that I was just afraid to go to triage and hear bad news - basically, either feeling 99% fine, or 99% horrific.

Eventually, I broke down a little, which freaked poor Rowie out. "Mommy, what's wrong?" she asked, holding my face in her hands. I told her I was just feeling a little worried about the baby. "Worried and sad?" she asked, and I nodded through my tears, feeling bad that I was upsetting her. But her eyes brightened. "I know!" she said, and she ran upstairs.

My sweet girl returned with Puff-Puff, the little stuffed dog I had as a kid, the one that I told her she could hug whenever she missed me, because he used to help me feel better when I was sad as a kid. She thrust Puff-Puff into my arms - "Puff-Puff will help you feel better!" - and I really started crying. "Happy tears," I clarified for Rowan, squeezing her tight.

Looking at the clock, I realized we had to go if we wanted to make it to swimming, which Rowan was, like, Hype Level 10 about - we couldn't skip it. I firmly decided I was overreacting and loaded Rowan and the swim bag into the car, and I did feel the baby moving around once the seat belt was pressing against my lower abdomen. I talked with my OB, who seemed satisfied at the amount he was moving (but still encouraged me to head to triage if I was worried, of course). 

I thought I was all set...but after swimming, I was driving around with Rowan for a loooong time, trying to get her to take a car nap, and I didn't feel anything. Nothing. I managed to work myself up enough that I decided I needed to go to triage, even if just for peace of mind. I didn't want to bring Rowan, though, so once we got home, I tried to set her up with a movie (which kind of blew her mind, since usually watching a movie is a Big Fucking Deal) so I could either lay down and monitor the baby again, or figure out child care so I could go to triage. 

Of course, the DVD player wasn't working. I called J.J. at work, hoping he was done with his meetings and could help me. When I heard his voice, I kind of lost it. I told him I was worried about the baby. My wonderful guy...he not only helped me figure out how to get the stupid DVD player working, he told me he was feeling sick (which made two out of the three of us down for the count with this nasty cold) and heading home, and that I could go to triage as soon as he got there. Meanwhile, I was crying a little, so Rowan found Puff-Puff for me again, which made me cry even more...I was a mess.

I hung up with J.J. and laid down at one end of the couch, with Rowan at the other end, fully equipped with her movie, a drink, and a bowl of pretzels. I completely passed out within five minutes of the movie starting and woke up probably half an hour later - to the sensation of the baby rolling and wiggling like crazy. J.J. walked in not five minutes later, and the baby was still going nuts, so I apologized for losing my shit and told him I didn't need to go to triage after all.

Batman decided to cuddle with me after I woke up,
and insisted that Puff-Puff cuddle with us, too.

GOD. Drama.

I went out for Mexican food with friends last night, after all the craziness of the day, and apparently the nap + fried avocado tacos with cilantro aioli was exactly what Baby needed to really get moving again. When Rowan coughed me awake at two in the morning last night, not only was the baby still bumping and thumping around, but I realized I couldn't breathe out of my nose and that my throat was thick and on fire (which, for those of you keeping track, makes all three of us down for the count now). Between Rowan's coughs, the baby's gymnastics routine, and, you know, not really being able to breathe or swallow, I never went back to sleep last night - but at least I could tell the baby was doing just fine. 

Thankful today for an active baby, a girl whose capacity for compassion is astounding, a husband who knows how to calm me down, an OB who's responsive and on top of things, the winter weather of my dreams, crossing crap off my to-do list, and having a few more weeks of the magical second trimester left to enjoy.

a year from now, take two.

A year ago today, I wrote a post about daydreams coming true, about how my hopes were starting to manifest and become real life. It felt precarious, so I felt wary, wondering whether or not I should actually believe it was all happening. 

So I'm back to tell myself, from today's vantage point, to believe it, baby.

I am fully enmeshed in this dream life I didn't even know I could wish for. Naturally, because it's me, my anxiety is sitting right next to me, leaning in to read my words and warning me that if I write about how happy I am, that happiness is automatically doomed to disappear. 

But what's taken me so long to learn (what I'm still learning) is that happiness isn't solely dependent on circumstances. I'm not sure how my happiness would fare in the face of illness and death and despair, but does it help to worry about that right now? Or is it better to practice gratitude for all that's real and true? Whatever the vehicle for my current happiness is - luck, hard work, big choices, prioritizing, randomness - what matters is that it's here right now. And instead of caving to my anxiety, who's shaking its head and clucking that posting this is a karmic strike against me, I'm going to indulge in a little exercise. 


According to my blog, here's how January 25, 2016, rolled along. 

• My two-year-old woke up at her new-normal time of 7:15 (not 5:00!) and chattered in her crib for awhile.
• I kissed my husband goodbye as he headed out for a job that didn't exist in January 2015.
• I had a debate with my sweet girl about semantics...which kinda blew my mind. [I remember this - it was when we argued whether I was wiping the counter up or down, never mind off.]
• Rowan and I went to story time at the library, where she was one of the "big kids."
• At the library, I met up with a friend to drop off three paintings I made for her kids.
• I spent nap time applying to a preschool for Rowan; commiserating with my mom group friends about toddler drama; and accepting a writing position with a local organization that I totally loved and admired.
• While Rowan was at Grandma's house in the afternoon, I swung by the post office to mail off another painting order.
• And I listened to an NPR segment about the frontrunner for the Republican Presidential nomination, who was...wait for it...Donald Trump.
• At 8:45 that night, while I was trying to finish a blog post (for the blog that I actually updated regularly!), I had to go upstairs to tuck my daughter back in, because she was still awake and her pillow was "too high."

It was an unremarkable day, ordinary and pleasant - and completely unbelievable to me circa January 2015. I couldn't believe that I'd been hired as a writer, that I was running an Etsy shop, that my baby was such a kid, that life was so...easy. Not that it wasn't hard at times. I mentioned parenting issues, deep worries, ongoing grief. But my day-to-day existence was exactly what I always wanted. Not only was it not a constant, crushing struggle, but it was enjoyable. Easy.

And so I dared to dream some more. I dared to imagine what today would be like, January 25, 2017. Bear in mind that a lot of these bullets really felt a little silly - like, how could these things possibly become my life? 

Here's what I dreamed, a year ago today, in comparison to how today actually went:

• Your three-year-old will sleep past 7:30, which is great, because you're due with Baby No. 2 soon, and you need all the sleep you can get.
• Well, we woke her up at 7:00, which is the best way to ensure that we all get work/school on time.
• You'll kiss your husband goodbye as he heads out for the job that he still can't believe he gets to go to.
• Yep.
• You'll have a debate with your sweet girl about hurrying up on the potty.
• Yep.
• You'll drop Rowan off at her co-op preschool, and you'll head back home to do some quick chores. And, let's be real, to spend some quality time with Netflix.
• Usually, yes, although today I accompanied her on a preschool field trip, which was super fun. Monday was exactly that, though: I ran some errands, worked on a painting at home, and prepped some quinoa and veggies for later before going to pick Rowan up.
• You'll spend afternoon nap time counting your lucky stars that your three-year-old naps at all...and getting some work done. You have writing deadlines coming up and blog sponsors to respond to.
• Yes and no. Yes, she still typically naps (and she puts herself to sleep, as opposed to me having to rock/walk her to sleep). But there are no deadlines or sponsors to deal with for now. I'm actually kinda cool with that - there are enough other irons in the fire for now.
• While Rowan is at Grandma's house in the afternoon, you'll run some baby-related errands. You'll spot an adorable newborn outfit and you won't feel guilty dropping $20 on it, because you're no longer needing to pinch every single solitary penny.
• Ha! Oh yes. Rowan is heading to Grandma's later this afternoon - for dinner...and a sleepover...and a trip to Chuck E. Cheese tomorrow morning. YAAASSS. I probably won't run any baby errands while she's at Grandma's, but the fact is that if I stumbled on the perfect newborn outfit? I might just buy it. We're still pinching pennies, don't get me wrong. Just not every single one.
• And you'll listen to an NPR segment about President Sanders's new student loan forgiveness policy. Hooray, you qualify!
• Okay, swing and a miss on this one.
• At 8:45 that night, Rowan will be long asleep, and you'll be finishing some more work (from the couch, natch). Funny how you spend just as much time writing/working as you did in January 2016, but that now you're making a respectable living from it!
• Essentially, yes. At 8:45 tonight, I'll be just getting home from my last Mindfulness in Parenting class, which I've been taking with some friends since September. Rowan may or may not be asleep at that point, but I don't really care, since she'll be at Grandma's! I'll come home and hang out with J.J., go to bed, and sleep alllll night.

********************

I wasn't that far off from what I predicted, right? I mean, aside from the whole "President Sanders" thing. Polar opposite on that one. Otherwise? Pregnant. Potty-trained preschooler. Pinching fewer pennies. Alone time with J.J.

It's everything I ever wanted. (Again, aside from the United States crumbling to its death under the weight of pipelines and walls.)

So...how about next year? January 2018? Care to dream?

• Your seven-month-old will wake up a little before 7:00, which is pretty typical. He mostly sleeps through the night, though not always. You'll snuggle in bed and nurse, which has been unbelievably easy this time around. Boob, bottle, breast milk, formula - he's not picky, just feed him. He won't wake up your four-year-old with his coos and giggles (seriously, happiest and most easygoing baby EVER), but your husband will wake her up anyway because it's a school day for her.
• You'll kiss your husband goodbye as he heads out for the job he still can't believe he gets to go to. It blew UP this past year, in the best way possible, and there's still so much more potential.
• You'll drop your daughter off at her beloved co-op preschool. You'll run a couple errands, and the baby will fall asleep in the car on the way back home. You'll bring his car seat inside and work on a few Etsy orders while he sleeps (or...you'll just nap, too. Either way).
• You'll manage to sync the baby's afternoon nap with Rowan's "rest time," where she sometimes sleeps but mostly just chills and looks at books. You'll just be glad for some non-contact time, so you'll catch up on Facebook and blogs for awhile.
• Grandma will take BOTH kids that afternoon, which is perfect because you'll have a consulting appointment at a child care center, which you'll be doing once or twice a week. Pennies are a wholllllllllle lot looser these days, which feels amazing.
• And you'll listen to an NPR segment about how President Pence's cabinet is shaping up as the nation tries to recover from the Trump debacle. [I mean, the thought of President Pence is scary, too, but not quite as terrifying as Trump already is.]
• At 8:45 that night, the kids will be asleep. You'll be relaxing with your husband, working on a blog post, and reflecting on how this entire day was last year's dream come true.

********************

Instead of being scared to dream at all, now I'm wondering if I'm not dreaming big enough, if I'm not taking big enough leaps.

Maybe that's the best part of all of this - beyond the day-to-day happenings, I'm finding myself mostly in a state of equanimity. Which, by the way, is the opposite of anxiety, answering a question I posed awhile ago.

But more on that another time.

end-of-summer daze.

Everything feels a little fuzzy right now. I'm in a constant state of feeling like there's SO MUCH TO DO, but being legit unable to attend to any of it. I've been doing a random ton of babysitting for a few different friends; there's been a surprise surge in Etsy sales after a quiet spell; and I'm in a time crunch to finish some big jobs full of little details for Rowan's new preschool, and my brain...is just not...in a little...detail...space. 

In the meantime, I can tell Rowan also feels a little in-between right now, which makes sense. She knows preschool is starting soon, but it hasn't started yet. Her summer classes ended a few weeks ago, but they don't begin again for awhile. We're working on her big kid room, but it's still a few weeks from being ready. She knows it's her birthday this month, but she's still two for now. J.J. is traveling or working four out of the next seven weekends. She keeps asking me if it's still summer or if it's already fall, and that's a hard question to answer when - yep, it's still summer, but yeah, it's already fall.

All I know about Rowan feeling in-between is that I'm right there with her. And today, the in-between day of this three-day weekend, we ended up spending the whole day just having fun together...a good antidote to the chaos of in-between.

******************** 

We woke up slowly this morning. Rowan busied herself with a box of seashells from a friend of mine while I took an extra-long shower. Her shells talked to each other, played together, jumped off bridges together...and kept Rowan amazingly occupied together. We both got dressed - me in painting clothes, Rowie in an "Obee dress" from last year that's now an Obee tank top. 

We had a quick breakfast before attending to the only task Rowan wanted to attempt today: painting her big kid room. (The Obee tank top was removed and placed in another room - with the door closed - during Rowie's first foray into the world of non-Crayola paint.)

She was hilarious. She wanted to - and did - try every painting accessory, from the angled brush to the foam roller to the paint can key to the paper towels. She kept up a running commentary, including my favorite declaration of the day: "Woooo-EE, that was HARD WORK!" She was just so careful and diligent and proud. (Plus, I actually got to do a fair amount of cutting in while she was busy foam-rolling the walls, which was an unexpected bonus.)

After painting was over (an unceremonious "I'm all done now," accompanied by Rowan almost dropping a paint-filled roller on the floor), we headed out to hunt down a very specific request of Rowie's for her new room: pink and yellow lamps. That's one pink lamp, one yellow lamp. Harder to find than you'd think! And we struck out at both HomeGoods and Target, probably thanks to it being the tail end of move-in week in Ann Arbor. I looove living in a university town, but leave us some damn lamps, you kids!

"Mommy, I want to show my Band-Aid in the picture." Her
permanent decorative Band-Aid has changed unnecessary
locations, from her thumb to a bug bite on her bicep. She's
thrilled because now everyone notices and asks about it.

After we left both HomeGoods and Targets with completely empty carts - which I felt deserved some kind of prize, like maybe lots of free gift cards to each store? - we went on a lunch date. Rowan chose bagels over pizza (??? don't worry, I checked her forehead, she wasn't sick), so we tried our favorite bagel restaurant. No dice - they only had two blueberry bagels left, and sweet bagels don't exactly make the best base for our pickle-and-cheese bagel sandwiches. So we went across the street to Subway. Not my first choice, but there were pickles galore, so we were happy. 

Back at home, I crammed in as much painting as I could during nap time before waking Rowan up around 2:45 so we could head to "Gramma's Pool." The pool in my mother-in-law's neighborhood (which is across the street from my neighborhood, a five-minute walk) closes after tomorrow, and since we have other plans tomorrow, today was our last chance to swim there for the summer. 

It was hard to drag ourselves out of the water (pretzel Goldfish bribes helped...for both of us). We were both super hungry by the time we got home, and Rowan requested her favorite dinner of late: spaghetti with (wait for it...) hummus on top (gag), and a "Rowie Salad." If you ask her what's in a Rowie Salad, she'll say, "Just everything I like!" Tonight it was spinach, quinoa, red onions, cucumbers, walnuts, cilantro, and gorgonzola cheese with fresh lemon juice, balsamic vinegar, and apple cider vinegar mixed in. Might sound a little funky, but don't knock it - I had the same salad for dinner, and it was delicious!

After eating and doing the dishes, usually we would head outside to play before bedtime, but I decided to treat us to our first movie night. Rowan saw "Finding Dory" in the theater this summer, and she watched "Frozen" on her birthday last year, but she hasn't really seen any other movies (just a lifetime's worth of Daniel Tiger). So she took an early bath, got into her jammies, and snuggled up with me on the couch with some popcorn to watch "Finding Nemo". 

She was pretty squirrely during the movie, and I guess I kind of forgot that "Finding Nemo" isn't really toddler-oriented - no music, and a storyline that Rowan thought was unnecessarily confusing and drawn-out: "Did he find Nemo yet? But where IS Nemo now? But where's his DADDY now? NOW did they find Nemo?" Still, she liked it. Plus, it just so happens that "Finding Nemo" is the movie that J.J. and I saw together the day we realized we were officially dating, so it's basically required viewing for our offspring. Rowan kept looking up at me with big round eyes and saying, "Mommy, do you like this yummy, yummy popcorn?" Yes, yes I do. But mostly, I just want to eat her up.

********************

She's in bed now and somehow stayed asleep through the end-of-season fireworks going off down the street at our neighborhood pool. J.J. comes back late tomorrow night, I have deadlines that I need to meet this week, her classes will be starting up, and soon it won't just be chilly at night; it'll be cool round the clock, and I'll miss these sweet, easy summer days. Meanwhile, I've got two walls to paint, a basket of laundry to fold, some sleep to chase, and a pool party with friends tomorrow. I'll get at you soon, Fall - but I'm hanging on to summer just a liiiittle bit longer.

August in motion.

August inches forward. I know I've been absent from here, but it's just because I've been so fully present out there. I do not want summer to end, and I'm soaking up every last second before September launches, full of school and jobs and responsibility. No, I'm not quite ready for fall. 


Here's how we do August:

:: We do Mama-Rowan downtown date nights.

Window shopping at the robot store.

Blue Moon ice cream at Kilwin's when they
didn't have her new favorite, Superman.

:: We do most afternoons at Gramma's pool, but also plenty of afternoons in the backyard with the baby pool, the slide, the sprinkler, and definitely the hose.

We haven't mowed for weeks since our lawn is dead and brown,
but there's a two-foot radius around our garden that's lush and
overgrown, thanks to the garden sprinkler.

:: We do evenings on the swing.

:: We do the petting farm.

I love how the three on the left are totally under Rowan's
command, while the one on the right is like, "I don't need
your fuckin' carrot."

:: We do spontaneous bike rides through campus with Rowan's littlest cousin (who's just seven months younger than she is).

The crane operator waved and honked his horn for these two,
which I think made their days. I mean, made their LIVES.

:: We do lots of ice cream, apparently, including a trip yesterday that only happened because when Rowan woke up and I asked her what she wanted to do, she cocked her head to the side and said, "Well. Mama. It's a hot day, you know." "Yeah?" I replied, thinking she was going to suggest the pool or the sprinkler. "Yeah," she said. "Soooo, maybe we should get...ice cream?" She said it so cunningly - and I was so surprised - that I couldn't say no. She wanted "the ice cream store by the Kroger," which is actually a frozen yogurt place that I don't love, but that's where we went. Her request. The skies opened up while we were inside eating, which meant that by the time we got home, there were perfectly huge puddles for stomping and jumping. So we did.

:: We do picnics, and cloud-spying. Today she told me she saw an elephant, a dinosaur, a fish, and "a big ol' sheep and a big ol' hippo."

...and sometimes those picnics have musical accompaniment, thanks to our music wall.

:: We do tomato hunting and tomato munching.

:: We do preschool play dates every Wednesday, where we meet the kids and families from her preschool class at different parks around town. That way, the kids will be familiar with each other when school starts in a few weeks (and the parents, too, which is important because it's a co-op). We've been to splash pads and beaches and parks, but her favorite so far might have been playing in the (drought-dwindled) river.

And, you know, I try to do my own thing, too. Minus the shorty. Movie nights and pool parties, river tubing and cookouts, neighborhood jogs and patio hangs, late-night dinners and date-night hikes. Summer is when I feel the most authentically me, always, and I never want it to end. Maybe especially this year, since it seems like I'm watching my tiny girl transform into a big kid in just one season. Must be time for another baby, eh? More on that soon, but I promise, there's no fun news to share yet. Just taking things day by day for now.

August inches forward.

anxiety dreams come true.

I had a dream on Sunday morning that I was going blind. My view grew darker and narrower by the minute, and I was crying and fumbling around and shouting, "My fucking contacts! I KNEW they'd do this to me!" When I floated back into consciousness, terror gripped me for a moment before I snapped my eyes open and, to my relief, saw the blue walls of my bedroom, hazy in the dim morning light.

********************

Then it turned out I had - in actual waking life - some sinus issues or an ear infection all day Sunday, and my right ear was rendered almost completely deaf. My balance was off, I bumped into doorways, and everyday noises like running water and laughter were piercing to my functioning ear. Still, I kept thinking all day long that I'm pretty sure I'd choose going deaf over going blind.

********************

And anxiety over depression.

********************

I'm guessing that's what the blindness dream was - an anxiety dream. A new storyline to add to my usual motifs: teeth falling out, fingers slipping as I try to dial 911, can't find the building for my final exam because I accidentally skipped every class session for the semester. My anxiety baseline has shifted so dramatically - positively - since becoming a stay-at-home mom that I sort of forgot how sneakily consuming it is. Even if I'm not willing to admit to it or acknowledge it during the day, it seeps out of me at night.

And it's not much of a shock that the dream came halfway through my weekend. When we rang in 2016, I had one job: full-time stay-at-home mom. Now, less than two months later, I'm juggling a bunch of random stuff: morning baby-sitting play groups, a few guest blog posts, my Etsy shop, some early childhood consulting appointments, and working as the new Kids Columnist for a local community journal. Oh, and, you know, still being a full-time stay-at-home mom (though thankfully with reliable and unbelievably amazing child care, courtesy of Grandma). I'm thrilled with each and every one of these, but each and every one is also a brand-new venture for me, complete with kinks and fine-tuning and recalibrating. I mean, it's been a long time since I had to deal with technical difficulties affecting my work performance. And these days I don't actually have on-site IT...or off-site IT, for that matter.

Really good at pretend-cleaning. Troubleshooting an HTML mishap, not so much.

So, exciting and mind-boggling as it all is, I basically rolled my (operational) eyes at myself when I realized that the typical stress of starting a few new jobs had tipped over into anxiety. The great thing, though, was that it felt like the only way out was through. I couldn't just snivel on the couch into a box of Cheez-its; I had to book the meetings and transcribe the interviews and schedule the photography and hammer out the game plan and create, create, create. 

(I mean, I did access my long-standing coping mechanism of hoovering sugar while pounding out over 5,000 words this weekend, but you know. Whatever.)

Mostly, I was able to remind myself that there's a learning curve with new jobs, and also a learning curve with returning to work. Especially when it's a work format you've never attempted before - part-time working from home with a wacky toddler scampering around, wanting to wear nothing but a tutu. We compromised on clothing + wings for today's library trip.

Would share a tushie-and-tutu pic here if I weren't scared of sanctimommy backlash.

********************

There's always more anxiety around the bend. Thursday is my follow-up appointment with nephrology. Friday is my final interview for my first column, which is due just a couple days later, which doesn't leave me much time to actually write it. And I'm harboring a fair amount of bitterness over the anxiety regularly yanking me out of the moment.

Master of Being Here Now.

And have I mentioned that Rowan's latest obsession (besides naked ballet)? She crams a baby doll into her shirt, cradles it gently, and even births it. Oh, boy. Today she wore her surrogate belly (and wings) to the FedEx store, and she told every passerby that she had a baby in her belly. At home, she zooms her Daniel Tiger trolley back and forth across the table and pretends that Daniel Tiger's mom is bringing the baby home for everyone to meet. In her crib, she sings herself to sleep with Daniel Tiger lyrics like we really love our baby and I want to play with my sister all day. She pats my stomach lovingly while we read books and asks, "Is there a baby in there for me?" Then she quickly answers herself: "Not yet!" It's all pretty adorable and endearing, but geez, kid, back off a little, eh? I'm still guiltily ambivalent about having another baby, and I just started all these new gigs, and Rowan only sleeps through the night like 70% of the time, and STOP PRESSURING ME ALREADY, CHILD.

That said, I'll take nine more of you, please.

********************

Netflix and dinner for now. Side note, we had a free trial (plus an accidental bonus week) of Blue Apron deliveries, and not only were they freakin' stellar, but we've been re-making a few of our favorites, thanks to the detailed recipe cards. So I'm off to tuck into my warm grain salad with orange, avocado, and gorgonzola. Hell yes. Oh, and to add airborne Benadryl to our HVAC system so Rowan will start falling asleep before 9:00 at night.

Sleep tight.

night life.

Tonight was:

:: Figuring out dinner for Rowan after walking in the door at 5:20 p.m. with a girl who was famished after a fun afternoon at Grandma's.

:: Finishing three Etsy orders while J.J. handled post-dinner play time and bath time for Rowan.

They did yoga. She wore a raincoat and socks. ONLY a raincoat and socks.

:: Rushing upstairs to gather laundry before J.J. handed off Rowie to me for hair brushing and stories.

:: Reaching to wipe a smear of toothpaste off my sleeve and noticing watercolor stains on my wrist.

:: Lingering for an extra cuddle with my sweet-smelling girl before heading back downstairs.

:: Hearing about J.J.'s work day over the sounds of us making dinner and Rowan singing to herself in her crib.

:: Deciding between working on a guest blog post that I'm anxious to finish and transcribing my interview from the other night (chose the blog post).

:: Getting intermittent text updates from a friend in labor with her baby girl (!!!).

:: Remembering to update my blog's Facebook page with yesterday's blog post, but forgetting to actually write today's blog post (and remembering that I never wrote my next Scary Mommy post, which would've been perfect for Valentine's Day...).

:: Fielding three more incoming Etsy requests and putting finishing touches on two current orders.

Pic from yesterday, technically, but the counter looks like this all day, erry day.

:: Trying to remember when I last changed my left-eye contact, because it's supposed to last for two weeks, but I'm pretty sure it's blurry after only a few days, which is maddening.

:: Doing research for another interview I'm conducting on Saturday and checking to see if my third interview subject has been cleared by my supervisor yet...nope, not yet.

:: Noticing around 8:45 that Rowan is quiet? I think? Possibly?

:: Watching an actual YouTube video to figure out how to assemble valentines for Rowan's valentine party with friends tomorrow. AN ACTUAL YOUTUBE VIDEO. FOR VALENTINES. And here I thought I took the easy way out by buying the $2 Kroger valentines.

Nope, Rowan did not help with these even a teeny tiny bit.

:: Folding laundry, and laundry, and more laundry.

:: Organizing our tax documents and wondering how our tax return will play out this year, since it'll be the first year since...I don't know, 1998?...that I've had zero income.

:: Digging out a box of old work materials to prep for some upcoming early childhood consulting ventures.

:: Not exercising or cleaning...oops. As if there was time for that. Plus, I ate zero Cheez-its tonight (only Combos), so I basically exercised.

:: Wondering how it all came to this - all of a sudden realizing that I'm still a surprisingly-at-home mom, but that I'm pretty steadily transitioning to a work-from-home mom.


********************

I had to order new checks last week. The online coupon I found only worked on the checks with fancy designs, so, naturally, I got Wonder Woman checks. And while I still had to employ deep breathing exercises when I balanced my Wonder Woman checkbook yesterday, I didn't have actual heart palpitations. Hooray!

We're not there yet. But we're working our way towards more stability. Which means, yeah, I'm up until midnight most nights and have significantly less down time - but stability, man. It's the dream.

One night at a time.

::

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