bflynn

What I want

One of the great tensions of being a person is finding balance. I have so many things I need to balance with a finite set of resources: who I am as a mother, a wife, an employee, a church member, a homeowner, a citizen. Most of these identities make demands of my time and energy. It is terribly easy to get wrapped up in those concentric circles of need and not create the space at the center that is none of those things — that person who is me. Without knowing who I am and taking care of my core, all those offshoots of my energy suffer. They need a strong, centered, joyful person in order to thrive.

But it IS hard. There are two ways I’m bad at it, and if they appear to conflict, well, maybe they do. The first problem I have is guilt. It’s hard for me to do things for me, that I enjoy, without feeling guilty for not spending that energy elsewhere. Last night, for example, I thoroughly enjoyed reading a novel. Hardly high crimes and misdemeanors. But I still feel like I should make up for this transgression in some way — work extra hard today or apologize or something. I certainly don’t feel like I have the right to read another novel this week (which I’m dying to do!) The best way I have around this is to turn a pleasure into an obligation. But the problem is that I have obligations enough. I actually enjoy (looks at list above) all of my obligations. I love being a mother. I am a delightedly happy wife. As much as is possible, I enjoy my job. I like going to church. I get satisfaction out of a newly painted wall. I take pride in being an informed citizen and exercising my responsibilities as such. It’s not that my obligations are onerous, it’s that they are tiring. But guilt is tiring, too. The time I take to renew my spirits carries a cost that it shouldn’t — a counter-productive cost at that.

The second hard thing is to really figure out what *I* want. That’s pretty easy on the scale of an evening. Heck, you can pretty much lay money that on any given evening I would enjoy doing one of the following:
*reading a book (preferably in the bathtub, especially in winter)
*watching a baseball game
*working on crafty/papery things
*goofing off online
*playing games with friends (anyone want to come play Agricola with me?)
*playing video games

There are maybe, uh, 5 nights a year I don’t want to do any of those things, and none of those nights coincide with Red Sox games.

But in a longer span context, it’s harder. What do I want to do with my career? What about continuing education? Do I ever want to go back for a graduate degree? (My problem there is that I’m not well suited to pursue my passionate hobbies — no Latin — and a graduate degree in those areas would be decidedly un-useful. But fun. I loved what I got to do in pursuit of my BA.) What sort of activities would I want to do to be healthy and active? If I had the desire and commitment to pursue a dream, I could doubtless make it happen. I just don’t know what dream that is.

This is all very long background for a revelation that’s been creeping up on me lately. The revelation is small and simple. Perhaps even anticlimactic.

I want to learn how to take good photographs.

(Waits for howls of astonishment and amazement from the crowd.)

You see, I really enjoy doing … well, this. I like to write. I think I would like to write fiction too, but I find that such a big bite to chew that I never seem well-rested enough, ready enough, prepared enough, with time enough to tackle it. But this informal, first-person, day-to-day writing and the sense of community and communication it brings are pleasant and sustainable. I write this for me, although I need the sense of audience in order to find my voice and to capture the urgency and need to report in.

But a truth I have learned about blogging is that if the words are the peanut butter, pictures are the chocolate. A well captured, well chosen picture illuminates the idea. I take literally hundreds of pictures. I took 300 this month. All of them were taken with my (quite nice for what it is) $200 point and shoot snapshot camera. I have some idea how much I don’t know about photography: shutter speed, aperture, focus, lighting, framing… there are a thousand things that go into taking a photograph that I know exist to be known, but that I do not know. These days, there are about two thousand after the photograph has been taken, but one thing at a time.

I could do something about this. I could decide to become a competent photographer. What stands in my way? Well, I’d like to take a course in it. I have taken no courses whatsoever since I graduated college. But it needn’t even be a long course. A few evenings. A long weekend. I suppose a book would do as well, but at this point in my life I think the commitment of a course would do better.

But then there’s the sticky part — the camera. Some of my friends and loved ones have real cameras. I am rather aware that they are what you might call a pretty penny. And to learn about all those fancy words above, you need a camera with, like, lenses and more than two settings.

Thus we come back to guilt. I would have a hard time justifying either the time (for classes and practicing what I’ve learned) or the expense (for classes and hardware). Justifying both seems downright greedy — but the one isn’t much good without the other. It seems like I should be happy with my point and shoot and my little blog and the myriad other things I need to do. But I so rarely can articulate what I want on any grander scale than this week or smaller scale than “at the end, looking back” that I feel as though I should take this impulse and run with it.

Please mom, learn how to take better pictures!

The gift my youngest has given me

After I had Grey, I had a tough time losing the weight. Despite nursing, it didn’t just “melt off”. It settled in for the long haul.

After a Fourth of July when I saw a picture of myself in a bathing suit, I decided that I must have an issue with my thyroid or something. I knew any doctor I approached would ask me about diet and exercise. Of course I eat a reasonable diet and exercise regularly! That couldn’t be it! But they’d want, you know, facts of something.

So I found a website, Sparkpeople.com, that helps you measure calories and exercise. For a lark I entered how much weight I wanted to lose in what amount of time. The site told me what I needed to accomplish that: namely eat 1200 – 1500 calories a day and exercise for another 500 calories worth a week (a combination of strength and cardio training). I tracked my calories for a day, not actually intending to change what I ate, until I saw how the calories added up.

I tried their recommendations for a week, and discovered I’d lost a pound or two.

And then I discovered that every week I followed the calorie and exercise guidelines, I lost a pound or two.

It took me just about three months to get back to my prepregnancy weight. It turns out iron willpower is good for something: namely for sticking with a 1200 – 1500 calorie a day diet and exercise plan. It helped that I had some internal goals around other nutrients that kept me interested. For example, my “normal” diet includes about 17 grams of fiber. My recommended fiber intake is 25 grams. I never make it, but it’s kind of fun to try.

Once I had the pregnancy weight off, I didn’t have to work very hard to keep it off. I had developed a much better understanding of what foods sink you and what foods don’t. For example, the decadent feeling 220 calories for a pack of Oreos is equivalent to two barely noticed glasses of milk. The milk is more nutritious, but I’d simply never realized how quickly something like drinking milk could add up. I tweaked my favorite drink at Starbucks so it would be only about 30% more calories than an equivalent glass of milk (the primary source of calories in it). I ate more fruits and vegetables. I paid more attention to what I ate. I didn’t go crazy — it’s not as though cake never crossed my lips in that time. No food is forbidden, it just needs to be accounted for. And even the annoyance factor of having to enter the foods helped me resist.

The two miscarriages I had actually added a few pounds (I was in no mood to work to remove weight from them). And Thane graced me with slightly more weight than Grey had.

Now, I’m not crazy. I’m also a nursing mother. As I understand it, Thane gets first dibs on my calories — my body will starve itself to provide for him. I still need to make sure I eat enough to feed us both and NOT starve myself.

I actually find it really encouraging that I have done this before. Were it not for the pregnancies, I truly believe I would’ve kept off most of that weight. I would like to weigh the same when I’m 40 and 50 and 60, instead of starting off higher and adding on the 2 – 3 pounds a year that is normal. I believe I can do it in a healthy way.

I know there are people who cannot calorie restrict healthily. I think I’ve shown that’s not my case. I know there are people who have medical or genetic considerations that make it difficult for them to lose weight. That is also not the case. I know that yo-yo dieting is counterproductive. I do not think that this is a yo-yo diet, although pregnancy sort of makes that a fuzzy issue. I have also made sure that I have enough clothes to feel good about myself at the weight I am, not the weight I want to be. It’s hard to exercise when you don’t like your body.

But I’m ready to start trying.

Pick and choose

These days I either have time to write a blog post OR handle pictures. Today, I went through nearly 300 pics to give you these:

http://tiltedworld.com/brenda/pictures/December2008/index.html

Wrapping up the unwrapping

I have trouble finding online time when I need to take care of both boys (and not at work). Finding it while my parents were here and wacky hijinks were ensuing? Not so much.

To sum up:
*Christmas was really wonderful. I got an embarrassing proportion of the goodies.
*The after-Christmas clothes shopping was amazing. I got, uh, 4 really nice-looking sweaters (in a nice, washable fabric), 3 jeans that fit the me I am right now, a really nice skirt, a sporty (but cold) shirt, and three pairs of fun tights for much, much less money than you’d expect.
*I have now finally been to Cape Cod — all the way to P-town. I am happy to report that it’s cold. And windy.
*The living room has been repainted. It looks much better, but I’m no longer convinced it was the right color of cream. Also, the ceiling really needs to be redone, I think.
*And what goes better in a newly repainted living room than a SWEET big-screen tv, with a bonus $250 unexpected rebate due to my previous switch to Comcast? (FTW!)
*Thane is the sweetest, most kissable, best-sleeping baby in the world.
*Grey is like a barrel o’ monkeys — tons of fun with an astonishing amount of energy.
*I’m really a good cook. All the meals I made came out well, and I made a lot of tasty meals.
*I really like Avatar. It’s nice to have a tv show I’m enjoying watching with la famiglia.
*I will miss my family greatly. Sniff sniff. Imagine having to do my own dishes? And whole hours will pass without puns!
*On the other hand, it is sort of nice to have some quiet. That was in short supply with the number of adults extant more than doubled.

I’m a happy woman.

Fear

My church has something called the prayer chain. This is not uncommon in medium sized churches, I think. Basically, someone has a need for prayer (sickness, accident etc.) and the Deacons spring to life. Each Deacon gets called, and they all have a list of church members they’re supposed to call and notify. Then we all commence with praying for the person in question. Prayer chain calls are often sad (although there are new babies in there!), and usually things like “person so and so has fallen on the ice and broken their hip, please pray for them”.

Today in Costco I got a call that a member of my church — and a friend of mine — is in the ICU with suspected meningitis. He’s ventilated and sedated, because he was delirious. He was on church on Sunday and feeling fine. In fact, they gave us a box of outgrown diapers on Sunday. Their daughter was at Grey’s third birthday party. Their second daughter is just a couple weeks older than Thane.

I am praying as hard as I can that he recovers quickly and well. But meningitis is terrifying. One day you’re healthy. Then you’re not. It can kill even perfectly healthy people. You can’t do much to prepare against it (other than be vaccinated — my quick research shows that there are lots of different ways you can get meningitis; some of them have vaccines available and some don’t). I cannot imagine what it would be like to lose him. But then I immediately jump to my own family. The parallels are simply too close. I am not afraid of dying for my sake. I am terrified of dying for my family’s. I am still needed here. And I cannot bear the thought of losing one of my boys – big or small. I’m nearly breathless with sympathetic fear. (And I keep turning my neck around to see if it feels stiff.)

I wish there was lots I’ve offered. I have offered to take the girls (since they’re my boys age, I’m well set up for them) but I can’t imagine that will happen since their family has made it in. I’ve offered my stored milk in case they’re having trouble feeding the youngest with the tumult (not likely, but I’m about the only person in a position to make that particular offer). I offer up my prayers.

But man. Merry Christmas.

Thane at two months old

Thane is getting old enough that I forget exactly how old he is. I believe he’s a day shy of his two month (8 week) birthday. I love him dearly. He’s doing a great job of sleeping at night — usually only waking up once or twice after I get him to bed. He’s packing on the weight — the only time of life when it’s great if you just pack on the pounds. His thighs are a delight in dimpled plumpness. His smiles are rare but exceptionally brilliant. He seems to be gaining control over his body and those weird appendages called “hands” and “feet”. He’s started looking more at things which are interesting. He LOVES tummy time — especially when he gets to have it on my lap. He has the most charming collection of coos and goos.

But that child wants to be held ALL THE TIME. It’s like he’s some sort of cute helpless infant who just wants his mommy’s arms. I mean, it’s not like anyone can hold him. Just mommy. I forgive him because he DOES go to sleep when I do. Also, it’s the most eminently reasonable thing in the world; for a child to want to be safe in the arms of his mother. But man is it wearying. I spend my days trying to figure out what I actually did with my time. In truth, it’s hard to do things when your child is in your arms almost all your waking hours. But at the same time, doesn’t Thane deserve to be held as much as he wants? He’s a baby. He’s been in the world a grand total of 8 weeks. You probably have Netflix videos older than that. The world gets hard soon enough.

It just makes it hard to: play with Grey, do the dishes, do the laundry (OMG the laundry), clean the house, wrap presents, exercise, stretch my back, cook, write blog posts, upload pictures, or generally do anything that isn’t watching “Avatar: the Last Airbender” (Note to world: we loves our new DVR we does) or read Anne McCaffrey novels.

Coincidentally, I have declared that every single Avatar character is my favorite so far. For reals I think it’s Toff. I wish they’d rebroadcast more of Season 1. I’ve missed almost all of it. And I’m nearly through with all the “Dragon” novels Anne McCaffrey has ever written, including most of the crappy ones. (“All the Weyrs of Pern” — I’m looking at you.)

Also, Thane has perfected the art of figuring out when my bedtime is. I keep TRYING to put him down at like 9 to see if I can shift his schedule a bit and have (GASP) an hour or two to myself or to spend with my husband. But Thane knows that bedtime is 10:30 (my bedtime) and no earlier.

Also, also, he cried more for anyone who is not me, even when he’s fed. It’s really, really hard to listen to your infant cry and not step in.

This time of life is short, I know. I’m far more aware of how finite babyhood is this time than I was last time. And frankly, 1 ain’t much easier than 1 month. (Ah, the dreaded mobility. Thane is already managing a scootch when put on his belly. I tremble.)

Lazy and weary is just an unsatisfying combination of emotions. Also, I find it very hard to be a good parent to both boys simultaneously. I feel like I’m always shorting one of them.

My mother once gave me a very valuable piece of advice: You don’t get through parenthood without guilt. Oh, is she right.

Dear Santa

When I was singing that I wanted a white Christmas, I meant six or seven inches of fluffy white snow that feel after all expected guests had arrived.

Right now it’s so cold here on Boston I’m not willing to go out without good cause — not with the baby. It’s only December 22nd and my parents are warning that they may not be able to make it out of Seattle on Christmas. Worse, I fear they’re right. I want my mommy and daddy!!!! Waaaaaa!!!!!

Also, I’m getting cabin fever. This never ends well.

Back with a future

In July of 2003 I woke up one morning and I couldn’t get out of bed. My back hurt. And by hurt I mean burning, screaming agony. As far as I knew I hadn’t done anything — lifted something, stretched wrong, injured it. It just hurt. In retrospect I now know that I probably bulged one of my vertebrae — the L5 to be exact.

Since then I’ve had problems with it. I can go up to a year without issues, but every 6 – 12 months I reinjure it. Then I spend a good 2 weeks really, really hurting, two months feeling ginger and the rest of the time feeling nervous. I’m becoming a physical coward. But man, when it’s out it hurts. I’ve been seeing a chiropractor pretty regularly since — almost never more rarely than once a month. (Even when everything is ok, my back is still a house of horrors according to everyone who has to touch it.)

The last time I injured it was first trimester — just before I went to Belize. (Fantastic timing, thanks for noticing. I couldn’t even take ibuprofen.)

This morning, between getting out of bed and putting on my clothes, I was put on attention that something bad has happened. I haven’t actually INJURED it yet, but it feels vulnerable. (I don’t actually know how to describe it — I’m not in trouble yet, but one wrong move and I will be.) I’ve gotten smart enough in my old age to immediately call my chiropractor and try to get it out of the vulnerable position.

But the truth of the matter is I’m sick of it. I want my back to be healthy. I want to find out what’s wrong and fix it for once and for all — even if that means physical therapy. I’d consider surgery if it was almost certain to correct the problem. I’m ready to stop this, so I can exercise and move with confidence instead of caution. What I’ve been doing just doesn’t work for me.

I just called my PCP and she’s not there on Thursdays (I’ve never actually met her). I want a doctor who will sit down with me and map out a plan of attack for making this GO AWAY. Forever.

Here I am!

So I try to be Ms. Regular about posting. Like exercising or brushing your teeth, you’re more likely to be regular doing it if you do it every day like clockwork.

I’ve been less than regular lately. Babies, boys and holidays can do that. So there was this blissful moment when both boys were asleep and I was at my keyboard and all that was between me and a great post was something to say.

Hrm.

Er.

Um.

So now both boys are awake and I’m still in the same spot.

Important stuff….

My brother is staying with us for his winter break. This is a tremendous amount of help. I am willing to pay nearly infinite amounts of Dr. Pepper, cheddar cheese and hot pockets for another adult around.

My husband did not get tested for aikido fifth queue as he was expecting to. Further updates as events warrant.

We are carolling next weekend and hosting the carollers afterwards.

The amount of laundry my family currently generates is astonishing.

Thane is regularly rolling front to back.

I bought a new cell phone. It is nifty.

Ummmm… that’s all I have. But hey. I updated!

Parenting yin and yang

Item the first: I said that it was easier having a baby than buying a house. I think it is easier to own a house than to raise a child. (Although I admit that was totally ambiguous in what I wrote.)

Item the second: Last night was one of my worst parenting nights EVER. There’s that point when you’re not sure if you’re laughing or crying and you decide to laugh because if you cry then EVERYONE in the house will be crying. Basically, Thane has a bad 3 hours every evening where he mostly cries and Grey decided to check and see if I still meant what I said and was very sad to discover that, yes, I do. Grey didn’t get to sleep until nearly 10, at which point he had lost all three of his nightlights, his music and his flashlight and I was sitting outside his door holding it closed.

Item the third: Thane woke up every two hours last night, but was a lazy eater towards morning. What’s up with that? Also, so far he’s slept pretty much all day. A growth spurt?

Item the fourth: We had a fantastic time at the Museum of Science with J. this morning. Grey was very very good and Thane slept and I got to talk to a real live adult for more than 20 seconds. Nice.