hypothetical writing

I spend a lot of time in the car these days, commuting to Lincoln from JP. Most of the time I listen to NPR, sometimes to WERS, the college radio station, but other times I just zone out and write in my head. I rarely put any of these thoughts on paper, but my brain contains reams of potential Allison volumes. This is some of what my brain files contain: favorable reviews of albums released several years ago, letters of complaint to corporations who have wronged me, half-written emails to friends I haven't kept up with as well as I should have, grocery lists, lesson plans for next week, and journal/diary entries I would write if I still kept a journal/diary. This week, I've been mulling over one journal entry in particular. If I wrote this journal entry, I would title it "Why leaving the community I love in order to live in the suburbs might be the worst decision we ever made."

So that's what I really want to right about. That's why I'm awake 12:16 am, unable to sleep, because all I can think about is whether we are making a good decision or a bad one. Dave got a job in Marlborough. A JOB! He did the thing that was supposed to solve all problems and make life easier and better- after toiling for 6 years in grad school and sludging through this dark, miserable, hole, he came out the other side and, yes!, he got a job! And it's in Marlborough. And I work in Lincoln. And we live in Jamaica Plain. Which is nowhere near the two. We decided it would be a good idea to move closer to our jobs.

We're looking at a little town called Acton, in Northwest Massachusetts. It's about 45 minutes from the city, but it might as well be another country. To be fair, Acton doesn't seem like the kind of suburbia that Dave and I love to hate. There are no tacky strip malls with Applebees and Chilis restaurants. Driving through Acton, we saw wide open fields and pumpkin farms and stone walls. It's close to Walden Pond and Ralph Waldo Emerson's house, and even though I don't think being near that will improve my quality of life too much, I like knowing they are there.

But I can't help feeling this tight ball of dread in my stomach when I think of moving. JP has everything we want in a neighborhood. It's not just the convenience of being able to walk out of our apartment and grab a bite to eat or get some groceries a few blocks away, although that is a nice feature. It's not even the wonderful parks and green space, the pond right across the street, that I will miss most. For the first time as an adult, I truly felt like a member of a community. I know people in JP, I know their kids, and I feel like we fit in here.

Today Dave and I were on our way to brunch and I spotted a golden retriever tied up outside a shop. I pet and cooed over him, and then his owner came out. Turns out it was a new grandfather who was taking care of the dog for his daughter, who just had a baby. The new grandfather was pleased as punch to share this news, and I was happy for him. I asked if it was a girl or boy. It's a girl, he said. I don't really care for small talk, and I don't usually talk to random people on the street. But JP is different. I thought about the new mom and her baby girl, and I hoped to see her on the street some time, so I could congratulate her and welcome her into the community, just as other moms in JP welcomed me.

dreamland

It's late and I find myself writing here. Seems to be the only chance I really get to update this thing is when I can't sleep. I'm trying to type quietly so as not to wake Dave, who just snored indignantly.

I can't sleep, so I stumbled to the kitchen in search of a snack, being careful not to trip over any errant plastic toys and finding myself unsucessful in all endeavors. I checked in on Ari on the way back to bed. He's curled up like a "c", also snoring, and I pause for a moment to take in his perfection. I always thought it was a cliche when parents talked about watching their children sleep. But almost every night, I flip on the bathroom light by Ari's room so I can gaze at his sleeping form. Lately, he looks like he fell asleep mid-crawl. His legs are curled under him like he's jogging in mid-air, and his arms pump motionless by his side. Maybe he's practicing in his sleep. He used to sleep in the fetal position with his butt sticking up in the air. It was beyond adorable.

Being a parent is terrifying. Every day, I am reminded of how vulnerable this baby is, of how vulnerable we all are. Each time I read an article on the internet about something scary happening to a kid, I shudder and wonder how anyone can bear to have kids. And yet Ari is the most wonderful thing ever to happen to me. How can something so wonderful be so terrifying?

Labor Day Labors

Hello Blog.
I've been a recalcitrant blogger lately. But that's okay, especially since I used the word "recalcitrant" in this entry. I should be doing other things. School starts on Tuesday, and I have numerous tasks to complete- like configuring seating charts, writing my classroom rules in big, bold, teacherly letters, going over my lesson plans for the week, and what not. (I will pause here. Dave has just entered with a warm brown bag of greasy Chinese food. Which, after my strenuous Wii Fit work-0ut, I feel entitled to indulge in.)

Today I spent nearly all day working in my new classroom. Ari and Dave came too and helped me rearrange desks and hang posters. I really love the beginning of the school year. I got my list of students on Thursday, so I can read over their names and wonder who they'll be. Some of my kids came by also, all nervous and embarrassed by their parents.

In other news, I'm thinking of changing Ari's daycare. I love the place he's currently going, but I found out that there's home day care on the air force base that is so much less expensive...like half as much. So we'd be saving $700 a month. And since it's only a block away from my school, I could check in on him during my lunch break, and pick him up right after school. So he'd be spending less time in daycare. Still, I'm conflicted. I really do like the woman that cares for Ari- Dave and I both feel she's given Ari top notch care. So I'm hesitant to change things. Also, I feel bad for taking him out- I don't want her to think we were unsatisfied. So Dave and I are both having a hard time with this. Any thoughts?

in which I battle insomnia and hone my Scramble skills

So for the past couple weeks, I've been having dreadful sleep problems. Part of this is due to the kid's unpredictable sleep schedule- an aside, if you happen to run into your exhausted mother-of-an-infant friend, the preferred question is not, "So is he sleeping through the night yet?" Because it's so much more complex than any yes or no answer could provide, and you honestly don't want me to get into the numerous variables and planet/star alignments that must occur in order for Ari to reach that golden stretch of sleep between the hours of 11 pm and 6 am.

In addition to infant induced insomnia (I'm totally proud of my alliteration there), I also struggle with sleep when I lack a regular daily schedule. Since I'm a teacher, the summer months are pretty much anything goes. So since Ari's been going to daycare now and I don't start school for another week, I have the freedom to nap after I drop him off. Which is way too luxurious! There are few things I enjoy more in this world than a good midday nap. Something about sprawling out in bed when the rest of the world is at work is perfectly delightful. But a three hour midday nap completely ruins my sleep cycle. I know, you have such pity for me.

Which brings me to my initial point (or as much of a point as I can conjure during this 12:09 AM rambling). I have begun playing Scramble on Facebook in earnest. I've gotten tired of beating my spouse regularly (hee, take that out of context), and I am currently being trounced by the other folks I play, namely my sister-in-law. So how do you Scramble geniuses get such high scores? What's your secret? At best, I can manage 70, 80 points a round, if I really flex. I know, it's just a stupid game, but really, I'm curious. I have no idea where you find the bizarre words that end up at the end of the game. So do tell!

Shout out

So every so often, I check the counter at the bottom of my page, and I'm amazed to see that there's been 100 or so hits on my blog. At first I feel a gush of pride and think, gosh, someone actually wants to read about me. And okay, I realize that probably 87 or so of those hits are from me incessantly occasionally checking the counter. But still, that means that maybe thirteen people are reading my blog! So who are you thirteen people, and where did you find me? Do tell! I would quite enjoy meeting you, so if you'd like, introduce yourselves! And because I'm a sucker for picture posts, here's one of my experimenting-with-the-new-camera shots. I'm working on depth of field and using the macros setting.

August-time

August has always been my least favorite month. The novelty of summer has worn off- June's blooms hang heavy and wilted, the air is humid and tired, and boredom sets in. Worst yet, August means back to school. I know, as a teacher, it seems juvenile for me to cringe at the anticipation of another school year. After all, this is my life's work, my chosen field. And in some respects I am excited. When I was a kid, I loved brand new school supplies, especially brand spanking new crayons- the waxy smell, the bright yellow box, perfect crayon tips unspoiled by that kid that always pressed down too hard. So the equivalent of new school supplies to a teacher, I think, is brand new students. That first week is pretty magical. I can wonder about the amazing potential of these bright new faces until they prove me otherwise. And of course, I don't use crayons much anymore, but opening a brand new pack of fresh dry erase markers does have a certain appeal.

In other news, Dave got me a new camera for my birthday. Darned if I can figure out how to use it yet, but I'm working on it. So here's a picture of zoo giraffe that I'm particularly proud of.

identification

I didn't intend for this blog to be only about motherhood, but since it occupies such a large part of my life right now, I think it might be a lot of what I'll write about. I've had a lot on my mind in terms of being a mother, so I think I'll just write what comes- I apologize if this seems disjointed.

So this summer I've had a little taste of what staying at home with Ari full time would be like, and I have to admit, I think I might go a little batty if I didn't eventually go back to work. I feel a twinge of guilt saying that. And then I feel incredulous for feeling guilty. I mean, isn't that what the whole women's movement was all about- letting women pursue lives beyond just motherhood. So I'm torn in this perpetual see-saw between feeling like a lousy mother and feeling like an unliberated woman. I do enjoy spending time with Ari. Sometimes, I feel like I could sit on the floor with him for hours and roll the same ball back and forth eternally. And then I wish I could be anywhere else but in my apartment on the carpet rolling a ball back and forth with my preverbal son. And that's when the guilt sets in.

I've tried to avoid feeling isolated by spending time with other moms who have babies the same age as Ari. It's pleasant to get out of the house, but I have to admit it doesn't really fulfill my social needs completely. Most of the moms I've met are extremely nice, but I don't always find the conversation stimulating. It is helpful commiserating with other parents about sleep issues and teething or getting tips on feeding solids, or comparing poop war stories, but the conversation never seems to move past that. I crave company with other adults for the sake of just talking about non-baby related topics. I don't know if I would actually be friends with these moms if we didn't have the baby thing in common.

A while back, my sister-in-law, who is younger than me and about to be married, asked if I felt like a mother. I had a hard time answering her. I deal with this question internally on a constant basis. When I am pushing Ari in the stroller, sometimes I glance at my reflection in store windows. I ask myself, "Do I look like this baby's mother? Am I playing the part right?" Sometimes I feel more confident than other times. Often, when I am at a playgroup or around other moms, I feel self-conscious. Like I don't look "mommy" enough, whatever that means. But other times, I definitely know I feel like Ari's mother. Like when I'm holding him close feeding him, and I have this irresistable urge to kiss him all over. Or when he cries, and I can tell exactly what he wants. Or when we're out doing errands, and a stranger swoops in too close, and I feel this primitive urge to protect him at all cost. Or at night, when he's quiet in his crib, and I'm exhausted but can't sleep, because I worry if he's still breathing.

So this whole motherhood thing takes practice I guess. As I write this, Ari is happily gnawing on the coffee table leg, running his tongue along the dust. And who said puppies were more fun? Anyhow. Here's some pictures I took at the zoo yesterday. It was blisteringly hot, and Ari and the other mammals had about the same idea.