Being back

I realized yesterday that I've been working on Shoelace for ten years. This is absurd. I was single when I started it. Now I have a husband and two children. Admittedly those have been distractions, and also admittedly the story has gone through some drastic changes since I started. But seriously? Ten years? What idiocy. I'm finishing it this year (didn't before Maia came, obviously) and putting it away, for gods' sake.

So yes, I have two children now. I've realized I hate the newborn stage of life. I mean, not hate exactly...no, maybe that is what I mean. I resent walking the halls with a screaming baby every night. (Lack of colic would make the newborn phase easier, I admit.) I resent nursing every hour and a half--though that's gotten better recently. I do like her portability, and her smiles, and the way she snuggles up to me when we fall asleep together (though I don’t like the frequency with which we fall asleep together, though this is mainly because it hurts my back). And I know that things get much better from here. Chloë continues to get awesomer, though at the moment also more histrionic. Still, she's great fun. I'm having a slight rocky patch with Eric at the moment--totally one-sided, and totally due to the new baby and the adjustments (and maternity leave) that came with her. Life is crowded but good. I'm just now starting to get back to writing--and I want to really get back to it and put this away. This is ridiculous. Ten years!

Home comforts

I am quite tired--pleasantly so, except for the back. I spent a good four hours out in the yard today--mostly doing garden work, but also weeding around the raspberries and the one rose (which may be getting yanked; we'll see how I feel about it). Eric helped out by Round-Up-ing weeds. While we were both out we learned that the neighbors have such frequent parties (a few times a week) partly because one of them is a Pampered Chef salesperson (whatever they're called). If I'd known that before I would have inquired whether Pampered Chef has angel food pans any better than the Baker's Secret ones.

Alas, I didn't; so Eric got one from Kroger today, because we were bound and determined to have angel food cake with sugared strawberries and homemade French vanilla ice cream tonight. And so we shall. The strawberries are macerating, the ice cream is setting, the cake is cooling. We've just finished dinner, tacos. I don't mind quick meals on the weeknights, mostly, as long as it doesn't descend into "What do you want?" "I don't know, what do you want?" "I don't know. Pasta?" which it too often does. I'm sick of pasta. But I'm really liking a more work-intensive, well-rounded meal on Sundays. Followed by dessert is even better. A dessert that kicks off the ice-cream-making season is better still.

Dance with me

I'm taking a dance class on Mondays--cha cha, rhumba, and swing. I'm mostly in it for the swing, but we're getting two sessions' worth of cha cha and rhumba and only one of swing. Figures.

I came home pleased and energetic and swinging my hips a little more than I usually do, and I asked Eric if he would try coming to a Friday night general dance with me--they have an hour's lesson beforehand and then the floor is open to everybody. And he got all sad and mopey and said no, but--no, sigh--but--sigh--arrgh--"Every Monday," he cried, "You come home all happy and excited, and I hate to bring you down from your high. But I always do." And I wanted to smack him, because why is he blaming me for feeling happy which makes him feel bad? There's a vicious circle we skirt, wherein making the other person sad makes us feel sad and so on and so on. But I'm not going to feel bad about asking him to do something I enjoy. I'm disappointed that he won't, but it's not a big deal otherwise, and I told him so. I'm allowed to be disappointed. I'm allowed to dance with other people if he won't, too.

Adult 2.0

We talked this past weekend, Eric and I, about Adult 2.0. It started out talking about money: now that he's got a paycheck again (yay!) we're figuring out what to do with money. Our plan is to pay off his student loans over the next year, which leaves us approximately $400 a month for savings and $400 a month for fun, based on the premise that my salary will continue to pay all our regular bills and his is therefore available for semidisposable items. "Fun" includes travel, gifts, and clothing, so it's not the riches we first felt it was, but it's much better than our budget over the past eight months of $0. (Not that we didn’t exceed that.)

We're also discussing what to do with the savings, and whether we should buy stock since it's low right now. And then there's the planned move: where are we going? When do we start job-hunting? When do we put the house up for sale? And then there's the hope of kids: what if I get pregnant such that we move halfway through? What about medical insurance? What kind of life insurance can Eric get? When do we need wills drawn? What about household management and the chores we neglect as it is?

Adult 1.0 was when I was in grad school and (more) when I was living in Dayton: I was an adult, I had an income and monthly bills, and I managed my own household. But it was a household of one, and decisions I made affected me and only me. Money was easy: when I spent less than I made, the extra went into a savings account. A growing savings account meant I was doing well.

I'm not sure when Eric moved from 1.0 to 2.0, since he was married before but it sounds like their household wasn't very well organized, but it happened for me when (a) I got engaged to Eric and (b) I put my savings into a CD. Two simple things, but they meant that (a) my responsibilities were to someone else and therefore more complex and (b) I realized that money is more complicated than addition and subtraction. Then came household management, and dealing with emergencies, and all those other things; and I feel fully entrenched in 2.0 now. It's complicated, but I know enough now to handle it, plus all the other things that make up my life--hobbies and family and such.

I wonder if other people feel this way, even if they don't put it in software terms.I assume 3.0 comes with kids, but I won't know until we get there. Maybe it's a 2.3 patch.

Not even a year and already I'm psychoanalyzing him.

I did a bunch of work in the yard this weekend. I feel better for it, even though my back was twinging a bit last night. Apparently I really did get older; that never happened before.

Mom sent me two outfits--both rather lower-cut than I'm comfortable with--and a big black handbag, which is, she said, to replace the dreadfully old and out-of-fashion one I own. Said old and out-of-fashion purse is as sturdy and useful as ever, and considerably more reasonable-sized than the new one, at least until I become a mom, so it's not getting thrown out but I will use the new one. Eric didn't get me anything. "Your present from me isn't here yet," he said. "It's on its way?" I said, brightening because I hadn't expected him to have ordered anything. "Well, no," he said.

I then explained that while I don't necessarily need more stuff--an offer to cook dinner or vacuum (which is my job) would have been just as much or more appreciated than a book or a CD--it would have been nice to believe that he thought about me when I was not immediately before him. I would say, "Not even a year of marriage and already he's forgetting my birthday," but the thing is, he didn't forget; he just didn't do anything about it, even though he knew he ought to and voiced an intention to. He had a rough weekend, though, so I didn't push it as much as I would have liked to. There's also the question of whether his overall mood and outlook these days--i.e., possible depression or possible overmedication--is affecting his ability to get things done. He's been sliding on his homework, but then he always does that, so I don't know.

The next few days may bring that to a test, as I'm going to Pennsylvania for a training class. I'm using my new handbag to take on the plane with me. I'm in my usual "What did I forget to pack?" mode, which is normal and therefore not worrisome. This will not exactly be a vacation, but woohoo for something different!

I'm a regular

I went with my friend at work to lunch today, to the Coney Island we usually go to. The waitress there, our favorite, knew our drinks before we ordered them. I've never been a regular anywhere before. It was kind of neat, but also kind of scary. We'd go other places if there were any within reasonable driving distance.

I don’t know why I've been so quiet on this blog of late. I know it's partly because the gardening thing is interesting and easier, and it's partly because my words seem to have dried up a bit. But journaling is usually easy. I've been writing 500 words a night on Shoelace, most nights anyway, but it gets hard and most of what I've recently written is bad. I don't know what to do, other than keep plugging away at it and maybe doing some exercises to practice more. I want to write, but I also like to do other things, and almost everything else is easier, so I do those other things. I had a much easier time of it in 2001 when I was writing PV and had no other hobbies.

Part of it might be because I have Eric now, which means (a) someone to tell things to and (b) someone who shares my life but probably doesn't want to be written about a lot. And I am still adjusting to this whole being married thing. Or rather, this whole having-someone-else-share-my-life thing. I'm mostly happy with the way things are, but it still requires thinking about when I can no longer say "Sure, come on over" because my husband might need quiet for studying, or when I have to think about whether to get an expensive Christmas present for him because he might or might not think it's worth spending our money on (I decided he would), or when--for example--I really wish I were in some other city doing something else but I can't because I promised I would stay. And also, of course, because my husband and best friend have to stay. And it's very strange to want to go, with him, but also want to stay here because it would make him happy and moving will make him sad. My marriage does not suck, but the complexity of thinking required in married life sometimes does.

(On the other hand, I kind of like this feeling that I've moved up from a beginner's level of adulthood to perhaps journeyman level. I don't know when master level kicks in. Or does it ever?)

Anyway, yes, things going on, I'm not unhappy, but I'm a little dissatisfied. I don't know if it's because I'm too settled or not settled enough. Arrgh.

But at least I now have someplace I can go where, if they don't know my name, they know what I drink.

Recap, of sorts

No posts for a week, huh? Bad me. That's the problem with more than one blog, plus worknotes. Possibly also with having someone at home to talk things over with. Today, we have been married for a month, legally. I don't feel married. I don't really feel unmarried either.

We have our joint checking account now, and we're both slowly switching over automatic deposits and withdrawals. I'm feeling a little reluctant to do so--partly because it requires effort and I'm lazy, partly because I've never shared an account before (except with my parents when I was very young, which doesn't count). I think it's a good thing, but still, it's different.

We talked about potential middle names for a daughter over the weekend. (No, we have no concrete reason for discussing this, but doesn't every non-childfree-by-choice couple do it?) He likes Amethyst a lot, and we tried to decide if we could get away with that--certainly more easily than as a first name, but still. I'm in favor of Trouble, personally.

I finished my quilt at 12:30 Saturday morning, and went to the baby shower in Dayton at 12 PM the same day. One of my old coworkers crochets, and she said to me at some point, "I stayed up until midnight working on my baby afghan for today." I said, "I stayed up until 12:30." She said, "Well, I finished at 10 this morning," and I said, "You win." The quilt was well received--so was the afghan--and I maintain my record of baby quilts that look completely unlike the rest of the nursery, even when I know the theme. Also there was pomegranate punch, pomegranate juice mixed with Sprite, and it was very good.

I should have done a bunch of gardening stuff over the weekend and didn't, but luckily plants know how to grow without me. I should have two zucchini to harvest, plus the last of the peas and--still--a whole bunch of lettuce. (I knew half a row would be enough. We don't eat enough salad.) Marigolds and nasturtiums (so pretty! so gangly!) are blooming all over the garden, which is nice--also one potato flower. Eric said, "I hadn't realized potatoes have flowers. I guess I should have, since they're plants and plants flower." A lot of this gardening stuff is going to surprise him. I can't wait for the first cucumber to give to him--not to mention the first tomato to keep for me.

Now it's a new week and I have some cleaning to do, a few last thank-you notes to send out (yes, I know it's been a month), some vegetables to eat, and some time to think about what comes next. It's nice.

I guess I'm doing all right

I weeded last night, listening to Steely Dan--so my neighbors told me--play at the Toledo Zoo. We're half a block away, and so when the zoo has their summer concerts we can sit outside, or open the windows, and listen. Once my fingers were blackened and most of the bindweed/wild morning glory had been pulled up, I went inside. For a time I sat on the couch, reading and eating salt and vinegar potato chips with the window open, but it was cold (last time for a while, I imagine--I appreciated it) and starting to rain, and the music was curiously sporadic, so I closed up the window--and, um, had some of the leftover ice cream from the wedding. Potato chips and ice cream. I also had a healthy dinner, honest.

Speaking of which, I've been using FitDay.com to record my meals every day, and discovering that I don't get enough calories before I leave work. That explains why I'm always so hungry when I get home, and snack too much as a result. So I'm going to try bringing more food for the mornings. I started doing this to see whether I need to concentrate on any nutrients in particular, but I’m getting an additional benefit from it, which is nice since it's a bit of a pain putting in every food I eat.

I'm working on Phoebe's baby quilt, and behind on it, but I expected that. Tonight we're finally going to start on thank-you letters--not to mention cleaning up the kitchen. We're trying to decide what to do with an "ABCs of Marriage" plaque we got from some family friends of Eric's. We're both pretty "eh" about it, but it was a nice thought from a couple who don't have a lot of money to spare. Honestly I'd just as soon use the frame for something else, but I'm waiting for Eric's decision, and Eric--as is common--either doesn't have an opinion or doesn't want to make a decision. I'm going to be one of those wives who decide everything, I can just tell.

The first ten days of married life have been fine. Mostly it doesn't feel different from before, but then in a couple of tiny ways it does--and the first time I said "my husband" to a stranger seriously weirded me out. (It was at my coworker-friend C's wedding, just a week after mine, and to which I brought two Tide pens which she happily did not need. I need to pick up my wedding dress from the cleaners today and see whether hers, which we ran dry at the wedding, saved the dress or not.) Some of the checks we received as gifts are made out to "Mr. and Mrs. [him]," which kind of worries me--Eric says the banks are pretty undestanding about this, though. And if not, well, it's not like we need the money; they're gifts, after all. Overall, life right now is pretty good.