Monday, June 28, 2010

Don't Call it a Comeback

I'm back!

What do you mean "You were gone?" I haven't blogged in, like a month, jerk.

Anyway, we are all moved in, mostly unpacked, and settling in nicely. There are still some pictures to be hung, decorations to buy, particle board pieces from Ikea to assemble, but we're getting there.

So, because I need to blog and because I haven't written a newsletter for Charlotte in five months (bad Mommy!), I'm going to consolidate the two tasks. Because I'm lazy. Deal with it.

Dear Charlotte,

You might be wondering why your monthly newsletter (which was never quite monthly, was it?) has been MIA for a horrifying five months. You might be. But, then again, you might be used to disappointment by now. You don't have a baby book, and your mother couldn't even be bothered to write you a measly letter once a month? Well, no. I couldn't. But, if it makes you feel better, just think about how totally screwed your hypothetical younger brother or sister will be! He or she probably won't get a sentence out of me!

So, last time I wrote you, you were ten months old. I was marveling at your vocabulary and independence. Oh, if I had only known what was in store! You really do have quite an impressive vocabulary. What's funny, is that you also sort of make up words or say things with the right inflection, but the sounds are all wrong. Like, "please" is "Das?". But, usually it's more desperate than that, followed by some frantic grunting and "DAAAAAAAAAAAAASSSS?" Thank you is "da da", and banana is some mad gibberish that I couldn't even possibly spell. But you also say many words perfectly clearly. Like "Daddy", which is just precious. For some reason you call me "Mom", not "Mommy". I don't much like that, but I suppose it's better than "Mother".

I'm going to go ahead and blame the lack of an update on the fact that you started walking shortly after I wrote your ten-month letter. At first I was SO proud of you, and I still am, really. But, sometimes I just want to tie you to a chair so I can write a text message, pour a glass of water, or, you know, BREATHE, without having to first pry something dangerous out of your hand, pull you off of whatever surface you've climbed on, or chase you down to change your diaper. STAY STILL, CHILD!

We recently moved from the house we brought you home from the hospital to live in, the house your dad and I bought a year after we were married, the house you lit up at the mention of, the house you called "home" (which you always said like E.T.)

We had to move because your daddy was driving way too far to get to work every night, and it was making him very, very tired. We found someone to rent our house and take care of our dog, and we moved to a very nice townhouse. I miss our house sometimes, but not like you do. Every time I get you ready to go out, you ask to go home. You don't yet understand that we ARE home, and it breaks my heart every time. I know you'll adjust soon, and that will be nice, but I do miss watching you walk around our old house like you owned the place, and it makes me sad that you won't remember it.
But, we are taking advantage of the pool!

And not that you need to hear it from one more person, but you are getting prettier by the day. And you seem to thrive on people telling you all the time. The other day, a lady actually GASPED when she saw you and started complimenting you. And you smiled and turned up the charm, like you always do. When we have coffee with your Gigi, you walk around the coffee shop making sure everyone is paying attention to you. Luckily, you're also very smart, and you really like books, so I'm sure I can convince you not to try and get through life on charm alone.

There is probably so much more I could say about you and your dynamic, little personality. You are silly now, and do things to make me and your dad laugh. You have started hugging and kissing, and I am lucky enough to usually be on the receiving end. You are very willful and do things like stomp your feet and throw yourself on the ground when you don't get your way. So, clearly by "willful" , I meant "brat". You become more and more a kid every day, and I hardly recognize the baby in you anymore. This is what happens when I ask you to say "Cheese!"

I think that's supposed to make me sad, and it does a tiny bit, but mostly I'm excited to see you grow and develop even more, and I'm really excited to see what kind of person you'll become, what you'll like, what you will dislike, who your friends will be, what kind of music you'll like, etc. You have a rather unfortunate fondness for Lady Gaga at the moment. I think it might be time to bust out the Tori Amos and The Cure albums. I think you'll like them. You're pretty angsty.

And now Mommy is going to go drink a glass of wine and recuperate after a long day of carrying your clingy butt all over town and peeling you off the floor after each of your tantrums.

I love you, Bunny.


Tuesday, June 15, 2010

Back and Whinier Than Ever!

We should be moving into our new place this weekend. It's totally awesome, and I'm very excited. And, while I've grown attached to my little house, and while it has been a bitch trying to downsize from a four-bedroom house to a two-bedroom townhome, I have to say I can't wait to check out our new area and live in a place built AFTER 1957, for the first time in my adult life.

But, I have been a little down these last few days, and here's why...

When we moved into this house five years ago, I was 22. I was a recent college grad and had just landed a job as a middle school teacher at a local private school. I was feeling pretty damn accomplished. A wife, teacher, and homeowner, all at the infantile age of 22!

But, then I decided I didn't want to teach middle school; I wanted to teach college. So, I quit my job and started grad school and subbed at an elementary school. Then I had a baby and quit working all together, but stayed in school. THEN I decided I don't want to teach at all. I want to be a writer.

Which brings me to now. I have half of a Master's degree, no job, and have made very little progress with my writing career, mostly due to a gross lack of effort on my part.

This path has also led us to needing my mother in law to be a co-applicant for our apartment so we don't have to pay an obscene security deposit. And, I feel like, what happened to me? What happened to being AHEAD of the game? The bright-eyed, ambitious, twenty two year old girl I once knew is now pushing thirty and can't even qualify for an apartment.

It's totally incredible and kinda hot that Chris is doing so well in his career that he can afford to keep us in this ridiculously expensive area with no financial help from me. But, even if we didn't need a cosigner, I'd still feel like a failure.

I know, I know. I'm staying home with my daughter, and that is very, VERY important. I get that, I do. And, don't get me wrong, I am totally having a blast. But, she will grow up, despite my best efforts, and I don't want to be wondering whatever happened to my career, my accomplishments outside of raising this beautiful, little girl.

So, here's my dilemna: I absolutely, no questions asked, need to get off my ass and try harder to make the writing career happen. I need to scour the internet for jobs, submit pitches and articles, and work on the blog. I will do that. But, there's the matter of this MA. I'm a few quarters away from finishing, at which point I would need to write a thesis or take the graduate exam. It would be a lot of work on top of everything, and it would increase my student loan debt exponentially. But, I feel like I really need this degree. It might even come in handy someday. So, when do I go for it? Now, while I still know some people in the program and am still (sort of) in the groove of it? Or, later, when Charlotte could feasibly go to preschool a few days a week and maybe I'm more established in my as yet non-existent writing career?

Ugh. I'm so confused. And I hate that all I've been doing on this blog lately is whining, and now asking for advice. I will try to get back to regularly scheduled programming very soon.

Until then...Angst! Confusion! Ennui!