Considering research

Chloë is in her crib, moaning, "Why did you wake me up just to put me in bed? Life is pain!" We just got back from a Tupperware party, where I considered getting her that red-and-blue put-the-yellow-blocks-into-the-holes thingy but decided I should leave for her grandmothers to get later on. Instead I got more containers for flour. I routinely have at least four different kinds of flour around the house now, and get nervous if there isn't an extra bag of AP at least in the freezer. (There isn't now. But we need to go to Kroger soon.)

We went to Confusion this weekend, and had a pretty good time. Not as good con-wise as previous years, but there was good Chloë-time; she loved the new scenery and the new faces and all the people who tried to make her smile, which isn't hard. I went to some panels and took the swing dancing tutorial and stayed in the hotel room at night, playing with my new netbook while Chloë slept. I'd meant to try working on some writing, but I played a game instead (it came pre-installed on the computer--luckily it's only a trial version).

I'm starting to think about how to revise Shoelace. Mainly, I'm thinking I need to do a lot of research to better build the world. I'm not all that keen on world-building, and it probably shows. I first started realizing how lacking I've been in the research department at the Penguicon writer's workshop last year. And I think a recent conversation of Eric's and mine solidified it:

"I miss college."

"The best time of my life. It's all been downhill from there."

"Unfortunately you can't get a job where you're paid to learn all the time."

"Writers do."

What's cooking

I cooked dinner last night, for what seems like the first time in forever--both that I cooked alone, and that we had a real dinner. It was a light one, at that--roasted vegetables (including kohlrabi, which is new to us; it tastes fine but needed more roasting time than the other vegetables, which was problematic), spinach salad, and onion-dill bread. This is the third iteration of onion-dill bread, the first two occurring when I was just starting out in bread-baking, and I think the practice shows. Eric says I should leave the recipe just as it is. I think I'm going to mess around with the preferment a little anyway, because it's so wet I'm worried about leaving it out for most of a day, but otherwise I'm happy about it.

It was great eating a real dinner, with a couple of different dishes, at the same time, without having to go to a restaurant. It's not the baby that's keeping us from doing it--not mostly, at any rate. Occasionally I eat while Eric feeds her some carrots or oatmeal or sweet potatoes and then he eats while I nurse her, but mainly it's that we haven't cooked and it's late, and he's got work to do, or we don't have anything in the house to make one of the few big dishes we both like, or we can't decide what to eat, or I start picking on his slovenly habits or the sorry state of the kitchen and the food discussion gets derailed. (I thought we'd argue more once we had a baby, but I thought the arguments would be about the baby.) It feels healthier as well as more comfortable, too. I've been getting into bad eating habits lately. This is not so good since my work clothes are still tighter than I'd like.

So I went to the farmer's market Saturday, and Costco Sunday, and this week I'll be cooking and maybe baking some more. We've got ConFusion this weekend, and I've got the Chloë night shift, so I won't be able to leave the hotel room and bringing snacks would be a good idea. And I like cooking and baking; it's interesting, it's satisfying, it's good for us, and it makes me feel more in control of my health. Never mind that the next thing I really want to make is gingerbread cookies.

Resolute

Hello, New Year. Hello, blog. Hello, world. (return 0)

I think I'm ready to come out of hibernation. Or funk, or whatever it is that I've had. Postpartum lost-my-grip-on-my-lifedness. I still haven't finished Chloë's quilt, but I've worked on it, and I've made some things and gotten back to something like my old life, only slower. And full of a cute baby who now sits up, and babbles, and grins like a spreading dawn. And also likes to grab my lower lip while nursing and pull, but never mind that.

I have yet to write my Annual Review for 2009, but I'm hoping to very soon. I'd do it at work, only work has been insane. My coworker left for maternity leave early, and she and I job-share, sort of, so I'm now doing one-and-three-quarters jobs (I can farm out part of it). I think I'm going to be constantly on the brink of disaster until she comes back. But I'm handling the work, so far, and in a way it's nice to be so busy. I feel very useful, and mostly pretty competent (except when I've messed something up, but with this much work it's probably statistically inevitable that that would happen).

Current status: I'm still on writing break. Thinking about breaking it, but I feel like I need to warm up a little first. Also decide whether to go back to Shoelace, or start the something new I've been wanting to do for a few years now. Craft-wise, I need to finish Chloë's quilt (Baby's First Spaceship) and make one for Raegan, my new niece, and then another for a friend of ours due in July. I'd like to finish Chloë's by ConFusion, the weekend after next. We'll see. I also want to try more weaving--I got a little loom and made a project and liked it, but haven't had time to do a second one--and get back to spinning, which I haven't touched for months and want to. Work-wise, I'd like to be in a new job by the end of the year--not because I dislike the one I've got, but because this is the year we're going to do our darnedest to move out to the West Coast. Anyone want to buy a house? We're starting to talk about what needs to happen to the house to get it in selling condition by spring.

I can't promise I'm going to write here any more often than I have been, but I'll try. The more I write, the more I have to say, I've noticed, and I think I've been too quiet. So onward we go. (But now I have to go get the Medela out and then go to bed.)

Something broken

My purse died last night. It's ten years old, black leather, very reliable; I've kept it even though Mom (who's given me every purse I've ever owned but one) has been telling me it's too old for years. I admit it was getting worn. She has trouble getting me to give up coats, too. But it was very useful, full of pockets, the right size, and I wouldn’t consider discarding it for another until the zipper, which has been failing, broke completely. So now I'm using another purse Mom gave me--a handbag really, big enough to hold all my pursing needs plus a camera, knitting project, apple, granola bar, and paperback book. (I've mostly used it for plane flights.) It's a nicer purse, objectively, and I’m sure I'll get used to it in time.

I've been on a writing hiatus since I finished Shoelace, except for a couple of writing exercises. I considered doing another project, code-named Cherry Tree, for NaNoWriMo, but my outline wasn't finished by October 31 and I decided to forget it. It was probably a good decision. My nights are still mostly taken up with feeding the baby and putting her to bed and then going to sleep myself. I've been doing a little baking, and a little crafting (and sadly have been tempted into trying another hobby, due to a freebie I got when I went to the Fiber Expo in Ann Arbor and reading Jen's blog: weaving), and a little goofing off, but mostly during the week it's work, eat dinner, take care of the baby, sleep. I'm kind of okay with this. I feel like the medication is preventing me from feeling bad about it. That's what it's supposed to do, but it's kind of weird anyway. But I'm definitely not getting much done. I'm trying to be okay with this, though I always feel I'm doing something wrong when I'm not getting things done. (Don't look at my floors, for example.)

The unutterable tragedy of instant oatmeal

"What are those?" my coworker exclaimed, looking up from rifling through the Halloween candy someone had brought in and noticing my butter tub.

"Oatmeal," I started to say.

"Oh, walnuts," he said, sounding relieved. "Did you put those in there yourself? Or did it come with them?"

This is the second time someone at work has commented on the fanciness of my oatmeal, which I have every weekday morning (unless I made muffins or something the Sunday before). It's not that hard: two-thirds of a cup of Quaker old-fashioned oats, a spoonful of brown sugar, a handful of Craisins, and another handful of walnuts or almonds. Obviously, today was a walnut day.

I used to bring in the packets of instant oatmeal. But I got tired of the flavors and the cost, and read that you could make your own--then read that putting boiling water on regular rolled oats works just fine. Now I put hot water from the coffeemaker spigot in and microwave it for forty seconds, and it's almost like cooking it on the stove, which is how I like oatmeal best (but never get anymore because eating oatmeal five days a week is enough so I never make it at home).

Anyway, I understand why people ask me where I bought my fancy oatmeal. But it's sad just the same.

It's that time of year

Note to self, for Christmas supply order: 9 cups Dutched cocoa.

Shoelace, tied

105,685, and Shoelace is done. Done. And I am dead inside about it. I'd meant to finish it before Chloë came, and then finish it on maternity leave, and I guess I have--I go back to work in exactly eight days--but I have no sense of triumph, not even any sense that it's finished. It's been dragging on so long, and I've known there are so many things wrong with it, and I've been writing so poorly, and ugh.

But it's done. Now I will let it sit for a while, and think about my next project, Finity's Edge, which has been in queue for a damned long time now. And in a couple of weeks or months or years or whatever I'll come back to Shoelace and make the changes I know need to be made, because I do think it can be, will be, a good story. But for now it's just done, and for now that's enough.

Nothing but baby

The child sleeps in the swing in a 3 months onesie (she's 10 weeks) and dinner is cooking in the oven. It's a real dinner, casserole with salad and cantaloupe on the side--obviously the salad and cantaloupe aren't in the oven--and bread is cooling on the baking rack. We went to the farmer's market and the grocery store today, and took a family nap. Life is getting somewhat back to normal, or at least settling into a new normal. I'm relieved to find the new normal includes going out and doing things (though always on a two-hour time limit, or at least punctuation) and staying in and getting things done. Like baking and cooking. The quilting and spinning are coming very slowly, but they're also coming. They should come in even better when Chloë is older and more independent and can do things like sit in a Johnny Jump-Up, which isn't too far off now.

I'm working on a plan for putting the garden to bed, the better to start over in the spring (though that will be a showcase garden intended to help sell the house), and I've discovered that I can vacuum with the baby in a sling, which is helpful. I'm also taking Zoloft and seeing the counselor for the postpartum depression (which the counselor did diagnose). I'm not totally impressed with the counseling so far--I don't feel like I'm talking about my issues, just answering questions, but maybe that's my own fault. I'm also slightly ashamed about the diagnosis since I still don't think this is so bad, at least in comparison to what I hear other people get, and it doesn't feel like I'm ill so much as that I'm simply a horrible person. But apparently that's what regular depression feels like, too.

So today we shopped; tomorrow I'll bake and cook some more (including rye bread and a smoky pepper-eggplant spread I want to try), and maybe do some garden work, and maybe even do some writing, depending on the child. It turns out she'll sit in my lap and watch me on the computer, but she likes it best when I'm doing something with movement and pretty colors, like World of Warcraft, not simple black-and-white typing. (Babies are supposed to like red. Maybe I should change the font to red and see what she thinks.) Eric's got lesson plans to do, but he can take the kid, too; he doesn't do it enough to make me happy (have I mentioned I'm looking forward to going back to work? Though I'm also unhappy about leaving my child to someone else's care, even though doing the care myself is driving me crazy?) but he does do it. And we're sending her to Mema's (Grandma's) so that we can have a few kidless hours, which I'm going to cherish madly. We've done this twice before; once we went out for dinner and bookstore shopping, and once we did household stuff and I went off to Urgent Care to get antibiotics for mastitis.

M said she hoped I wouldn't be one of those women who talk about nothing but their children. Right now I am, because I'm not doing much of anything else, and I hate it. I'm trying to change it. Keeping up on news would be a good thing--I've fallen way off on that--but getting back to a semblance of a real life will be, too.

PPD, yeah you know me

The baby's asleep in the swing, Eric's napping in the bedroom, and I'm restless. Motherhood is not really agreeing with me. A couple of weeks ago Eric asked me to go talk to the midwives about possible postpartum depression, and I went, and they're sending me to a counselor--there's been no actual diagnosis, just a sort of a "if you say you're feeling bad let's treat you as if you've got a real problem" attitude, but I guess I can see why they'd do that. I've been having crying fits, mostly over the multiple feeding issues we've been having. (I don't think that's unjustified. These are actual issues, though they're mostly improved at this point.) I've been wondering if I've made a terrible mistake by introducing an element in my life that's displaced almost everything I enjoyed, required almost all of my attention, and given me nothing in return.

Things have gotten a little better in the last week or so; but I'm only just starting to enjoy the baby and see her as more or less mine. I'm hoping they continue to improve. I think they will; I'm still thinking about a second kid eventually and so on, rather than planning to stick to the one or give her up for adoption. We'll see how it goes as she gets older and more fun, and I get more used to this routine.

Ready or not

So with Eric going back to work (well, new teacher orientation) and Chloe turning four weeks old this week, I was thinking that it was time to start working on my non-baby life. And someone had contacted me about doing freelance work for a new e-zine about Ohio high-tech businesses, which sounded good to me. But now he's sent me the information and two assignments that he wants back by the end of the week, and I'm realizing that (a) there's a bunch of information he hasn't included, like rates (he's given me general ranges, but the contract he sent has a blank where the fee should be), and (b) it's going to be iffy scheduling an interview, even a phone interview, while caring for a baby who may start crying at any moment. Admittedly Chloe has started taking more of an interest in her surroundings and is less likely to cry out of loneliness at least, but still. I'll see if I can schedule things for when Eric's going to be home. Also, (c) I'm not so sure I'm really ready to start working on things with deadlines yet. But I've already agreed to do this (although that was before he sprung the deadlines on me--he originally said this was starting up around Labor Day), so I guess I'm going to be doing it whether I'm ready or not.

The new normal

Eric has a new job! Again. Ahem. Anyway, he's employed, or will be once he fills out the paperwork, and we have to figure out daycare. I'm not so enthused about the daycare, but we did agree that Eric getting a full-time job was the most preferable option and I don't have to worry about finances anymore (and maybe I can think about getting a netbook/laptop for Christmas, once we've seen the damage of the hospital bills). And I'll be home alone with Chloe after August 24. It'll be interesting. When do babies learn to entertain themselves? Because currently whenever I have to use the bathroom I hand the baby to Eric, but that's not going to be an option in a couple of weeks here and it will be sad to have to put her in the crib and listen to her cry whenever I'm on the toilet.

My parents left Tuesday, and we're getting into a somewhat normal schedule again. It's revolving around the baby and her feedings and naps, of course, but I've actually done some e-mail correspondence and some cleaning, and I intend to go out and pick things in the garden once Eric gets up from his nap. Next week I may even start thinking about my hobbies again. So far I've mostly been reading in my spare time (and eating and drinking; I hadn't realized that lactating was going to make me so hungry and thirsty all the time), but it's about time to reintegrate my old life with the new. And it would be nice to finish Chloe's quilt before my maternity leave is over.

I am a mother.

I've been trying to write about having a baby, and it isn't working. (Also, typing feels weird. I haven't been on my computer in days and days.) Relatively briefly, then: Chloe was born on Thursday, July 23, after 20.5 hours of labor (starting with my water breaking, which seemed to annoy the midwives inordinately--once that happens, they start worrying about infection) and a tech who asked to observe me at the hospital because she'd never seen anyone trying to do a no-drugs labor before. She was eight pounds, three ounces, supposedly 21 inches (but the pediatrician measured her at 19.75 at her four-day checkup). After the delivery, we got to see the placenta and amniotic sac, which was pretty cool, while I got stitched up; and then I was both ravenous and the sleepiest I've ever been; and then I got food and a nap, and so did Chloe.

We took her home, where we adored her and she was fussy and difficult at feeding times and developed jaundice. It and the fussiness got bad enough that we called the pediatrician, and on the next Friday they looked her over, got a bilirubin and weight check, and ended up sending us to the NICU for phototherapy for her jaundice and weight loss and dehydration. As far as we know it was caused by not feeding her enough, which was caused by a shallow latch and tongue thrust preventing her from feeding well. So I've been feeling horribly guilty. But I'm getting better, and it helps that the phototherapy cleared up the jaundice for the most part and we're now stuffing her full of food, so much so that she gained ten ounces in five days and is back to her birth weight at the two-week mark, right on schedule. The pediatrician says if this keeps up he'll have to have the obesity talk with us sooner than planned.

I enjoy her very much, but I'm still a bit ambivalent about being a mother. I hope this is normal. I'm definitely enjoying being at home, except that my parents are staying with us and my mom is getting on my nerves slightly, which hasn't happened before. (Also she's taken over my kitchen, but since this means I don't have to cook meals it's not so bad.) She's two weeks old today, and I'm starting to feel like it's time to get back to a somewhat normal schedule, rather than spending most of my time reading and napping between feedings. Being a mother definitely doesn't change my interest in my hobbies or my attitude towards housework; it just adds an extra responsibility that has to take precedence. It's weird. But I think I can make it work.

All about late pregnancy

I'm up late because we're touring a pediatrician's office tomorrow morning and I'm going in to work afterward. Actually, I'm up late because I'm often up late these days, and I'm going into work afterward hoping not to get yelled at because I didn't get a chance to ask permission to do this so I just left a message on my boss's voicemail at about nine o'clock this evening. I do not think he'll yell at me. He doesn't yell. And he's lenient about letting us come in late or leave early for medical reasons and I do not abuse this. And I'm nine months pregnant. And I probably sounded distressed on the phone and maybe he'll think something's up with the pregnancy and will be extra understanding. I think I said "I have a doctor's appointment," which is technically true, but I don't remember for sure.

Our dining room table is a mess right now, due to a box of awesomeness that arrived from M and a baby present from a coworker that both came today. Admittedly the dining room table is often a mess, because Eric's mom always used their dining table as a "put everything down here and shove it into rough piles when you need more horizontal surface area" space and I haven't broken him of the same habit--and, worse, I think I'm starting to pick it up from him. "Thank goodness you're still here!" my coworker had said, and then, when she was leaving, "Thanks for holding off until I got this to you." She was appalled to hear that my doctor will probably wait at least a week beyond my due date to suggest induction.

In other news, there's a huge beetle under a glass on my kitchen floor. I heard something knocking around down there after Eric had left for his weekly gaming night and when I went down, all I found was this gigantic beetle flopping about on its back. I considered a broom, then put the glass over it and considered cardboard to scoop it up; then I decided I would let it die and see what it was before I got rid of it. Also I didn't want to bend over again.

Summer fun

We're kicking off the summer food season tonight with tabbouleh and fresh pita bread (for dinner) and sweet pickle relish (for experimentation). I'm quite looking forward to both. I've still got a decent amount of energy (though I'm finding myself getting less and less sleep--presumably my body knows what's coming and is weaning me off of it) and this is becoming one of my favorite parts of summer, the doing-things-with-fresh-produce bit. I'm such an adult. But I guess that's better than the alternative.

Interviews

And another interview today. At least places are still hiring. This is good. We've also got an appointment with a pediatrician--we're supposed to interview them, but I really don't know what to say. "Do you have an actual degree? Can I see your diploma?"

Incidentally, one of my friends just asked me if I planned to vaccinate my child. I think it's sad that she had to ask. Apparently one of her other friends isn't--said friend citing not only the autism non-link, but also "Those diseases aren't around anymore, so why bother?" People worry me.

Waiting, waiting

Eric didn't get that job, and is waiting on the results of another interview. They were supposed to call him Wednesday or Thursday, so I'm not hopeful. He does have a very good prospect of part-time teaching at the university, so that's something, but we finally pulled the last of his teaching stuff out of his car yesterday and he got very sad at the prospect of not using it again (even if he does get this job, he probably won't have a classroom of his own). He's been sad a lot. So have I, due to stress and pregnancy hormones, though we mostly do a good job of alternating so one of us is available to handle the other. I guess that's a marriage.

I'm about two scenes away from finishing Shoelace but haven't done it, partly because I'm working on nonfiction writing and the baby bumper, partly because I just plain don't want to work on it. Even though I'm in the middle of the climax. It's very strange. But I must finish it before the baby comes so I can ignore it in good conscience; ignoring it is bothering me now. Maybe this week.

I've gotten to the hard bit of pregnancy, where I can't sleep well and my body aches and people I barely know keep asking me the same four questions (Are you excited? When are you due? Do you know if it's a boy or a girl? Do you have names picked out?--though somebody varied it the other day with "Did you really want a girl, or did you not care about the sex?" and I had to stop myself from saying "Actually, we really wanted a boy and hate the idea of a girl; we're not sure whether we're going to keep her"). I'm told this is nature's way of reconciling the new mother to a completely new life (not to mention labor) by making anything preferable to staying pregnant. I'm not sure I've reached that point yet, but I can see it coming. And of course maternity leave will be lovely, assuming the sleep deprivation doesn't send me (or Eric) into psychosis.

Gah. I'm depressing myself and I really don't mean to. I'm doing a lot of waiting lately, so I kind of feel my entire life is on hold, which is never a good feeling, but it's not that bad really. I probably need to do more and worry less--which I imagine is almost always good advice.

Job hunting

Eric has a job interview! This makes me happy. And him happier, of course. It's next Friday, so I've got plenty of time to take down the hem of the pants of his suit (he put them in the wash accidentally the last time he wore it; they seem to be okay except for being too short now, but Mom was the one who hemmed them so there's enough fabric left over to lengthen them appropriately). He's been looking for science teacher openings but only found two so far, and the other one was filled, so he was especially pleased. I admit to being ever so slightly disappointed that we won't be able to move earlier, and that we'll have to look for serious daycare. This is assuming that he gets the job, of course. I'm sure the competition for this job is more fierce than it would have been a couple of years ago. But I'm hopeful, and so is he, and that's a good thing.

Self-determination

I'm feeling very restless and dissatisfied. Partly because I took an unintended nap and therefore had less time to do things today than I intended, partly because I didn't want to do the things anyway and was therefore secretly glad for the nap, partly because how can I be secretly anything when all I'm doing is talking to myself in my head? The mind is a strange place to live.

However, we made dinner, and I dug up the part of the garden that needs digging up, and some laundry is folded, and I will get some writing done before I go to bed. Probably also some reading or quilt binding, because my feet are a bit puffy-looking and I should put them up. My new gauge for how to spend my evening is the circumference of my ankles. I'm not sure if that's better or worse than by trying to hide my perfectly audible thoughts from myself.

Demand Studios

I just signed up for Demand Studios. It's $15 an (approved) article on simple topics, no minimum quotas, so it sounds doable; we'll see how it goes in reality. Eric ordered new $400 glasses today, so extra cash sounds good to me.

In the good old summertime

Ants found in the office, which is above the kitchen: one. Ants found in the craft room, which is next to the office: one. Ants found in the nursery: one. Orkin Men cursed out because their oh-so-impressive spraying regimen is obviously totally useless: one.

We tried out the lemon ice cream for real tonight. Our conclusions: no-egg ice cream is too soft, at least the way we've made it so far. Maybe with too much cream. It could use a little more sugar. However, it's also intensely flavorful and even with its faults is a darn good dessert. I do like our work. I'm looking forward to full-on summer, I think; the ants will eventually go away (they seem to come out in the spring and fall), and we'll be making more ice cream, and the garden will improve (assuming I can ever get out to weed and to plant the last of the things I want to plant), and everything will be good.