29 WAYS TO STAY CREATIVE from TO-FU on Vimeo.
I've been parenting solo for past the twelve years, learning and growing alongside my children: S, the 18-year-old son and A, the 13-year-old daughter. Connect
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Working is Hard Work. Duh.
Three days in and I’m totally, completely exhausted from the inside out. Everything is tired–my muscles, my brain, my interest in doing anything at all. Really? Who knew it was this difficult to work eight hours a day?! Okay, so it’s not really the workday that is killing me, it’s the drive home, the errands afterward, the dinner and dishes and managing some time to watch a movie or TV show with the daughter so she doesn’t feel too neglected.
I’ve been going in early this week and will do so until school starts, but at that point, I’ll start going in a half hour later and coming home in even denser traffic. I’m certainly not thrilled with that, but it’s really the only negative the job has going against it.
Because the job itself rocks my world. I get to write blog posts, follow blogs, interview shop owners and fabric designers, try out new patterns and see the newest fabric lines before they hit the stores. Crazy awesome is what it is and I’m loving it.
Now, if my neck and shoulders could just get used to sitting at a desk all day and my body could get a full eight hours of nightmare-free sleep, I’d be without complaint.
But before hitting the hay, I have some reading to do for an article about apron collecting that I need to write tomorrow. Oh, new job, how I love you!
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Posted in rambling, ruckus time
Growing (up) pains
Despite the fact, that I celebrated my forty-first birthday this year, I have avoided some of the more grown-up expectations.
- I don’t own a house and never plan to.
- I don’t have a retirement account.
- I have never hired a lawyer (or a mover, for that matter).
- I don’t own my own car.
- And except for a nine-month window after I divorced way back in 1999,
I have never worked a 40-hour-a-week job.
Yeah, yeah, I know. It sounds totally ridiculous to be this old and never worked that much, though I was working full-time at the school, it was 35 hours per week and I had the benefit of driving with my kids both to and from work (since it was their school I was working at). I was a stay-at-home mom until the divorce. After, I got a full-time job and put my daughter in day care, a horrible experience for both of us. Since 2000, I have avoided having either kid in anyone else’s daily care. All the years I went to school, I dropped them off and picked them up from school. Then we left the country and they were with me except for the few hours a day when I taught and they stayed in our dorm room. We returned to the States and I got a job at their school. I saw both of them periodically throughout the day. And then this summer, I’ve been here (unemployed and penniless) with them.
But all of that is changing.
My son is coming back from California after the job fell through and will be attending community college at the campus just down the block.
My daughter will be on her own to get home, eat and work on homework every afternoon. I’ve always been here for that, always with her to help out when she’d let me, make her dinner. Now, I’ll have to trust that she learned the bus system well enough to get herself back home. I have to hope that she will get food for herself, a rarity for her since she frequently forgets to eat. I won’t be here to be the Mom I want to be and I have to trust that she’ll be okay with it all, but the guilt of leaving her like that is killing me.
Perhaps it will work with her brother back in the house, able to keep her company in the afternoons, someone to talk to and ask for homework help. But I am going to miss being with them both. It’s hard to let go of the 24/7 parenting that I’ve devoted myself to and it’s hard to admit that I don’t have control over everything.
My first day, an orientation of sorts, is tomorrow, then the real deal starts on Monday and I can already feel the time constraints. I just have to remind myself that millions of parents do this every day and that so many of them haven’t been as lucky as I to have spent so many mornings and afternoons with my kids. And, I have to remind myself, that it’s about time I grew up and got a ‘real’ job.
All you working mothers out there… is there something I can do to get past the guilt, the worry? Or is this just one of the joys of being a mom?
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(Of course, when I factor in the fact that I have a GuyFriend that I adore being with and will now rarely see along with all my other friends and hobbies and unfinished projects, I just want to run away crying. I can’t, though, so we’re just gonna have to give it a try and see what happens. At least it’s a job I wanted.)
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Posted in rambling, solo parenting
I Can See The Light
After five long months of daily searches and more than a year of irregular searching, I no longer have to pull up Craigslist, Mac’s List, Monster, Yahoo Jobs or any other website that I’ve been stalking.
I finally landed a job.
And a job I think I’m gonna love, which makes it all the better. I get to write, edit, blog, tweet and all that communication stuff that I adore doing and best of all, it has to relate to sewing, my second great love. It’s been a hella long wait, but I think the wait might have been worth it.
I start on the 22nd with a little meet-and-greet with the other employees and office a few days before.
I. Can’t. Wait.
Posted in create.make.sew., ruckus time
Job hunting is like dating.
I don’t like either one, in fact. I much prefer steady work and a committed relationship.
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Posted in rambling
And then there were two.
My family trio became a duo last week when my son moved out of his bedroom and into my sister’s house–1009 miles away.
I’d been expecting him to go, he was going to bring her kids home after their summer vacation with family. He would accompany them on the flight, stay for a few weeks and come back home. But life never quite happens like I expect and wham,bam Stuart suddenly had a job at my sister’s dental office.
If he wanted it.
He has spent much of the summer looking for a job with no luck beyond the small landscaping gig he’s had for years now, but suddenly there was a nearly-full-time position just waiting for him. In southern California.
He accepted, said his goodbyes to family and friends, then boarded a plane with his ten- and five-year-old cousins bound for LAX.
His room sat empty for two days, waiting. Maybe he’d change his mind. Maybe the job wouldn’t actually exist. Maybe we could still be a trio.
A week later, he’s getting settled in his new room and his sister has taken over his old room. Her computer is on his desk. Her sheets are on his bed. Her toys and books are on his shelves. And maybe in another week or two it won’t seem like they are his desk, his bed, his shelves, his room. Maybe it will feel like they are really hers.
when we were young (1999)
Together, just the two of us.
The Best Day Ever.
This is my five-year-old nephew’s favorite line this week.
Cousins hamming it up at Washington Park
Alex wasn’t far off the mark–I might not argue for it being the best day, but it was, at the least, a very good day.
The next day we propped the tent on the back porch and watched old Spiderman cartoons on Netflix and had grilled cheese sandwiches for lunch. When he snuggled up to me long past dark, he told me again: “Today was the best day ever.”
“Better than the zoo?”
“That was the best day, too.”
It didn’t really matter what we did to him, as long as we were all together, it was a great day, a best day.
The simplicity is childlike and, I’m prone to think, slightly childish. How can every day be the best day? I know it can’t really be the best, but maybe there’s something I can take from his sweet declaration. These months of unemployment and lack of income have taken its toll on me and on my readiness to experience any real joy in the day to day drudgery. I am more prone to say it was the worst day ever, on those days when I get notice that my petition my was denied, that someone else got the position, that unemployment insurance doesn’t cover people like me.
The struggle continues but I’m going to try to remember what Alex said. I put his picture on my computer desktop, a big grin bending his face, his eyes into a happiness that is almost palpable. I put it there to remind me that it isn’t so much about what I have or don’t have or what exactly I’m doing, but it matters that I have family and love.
Telling the Story
Three years since starting my memoir about our adventures in Vietnam, it’s time to get serious about finishing this enormous project. Today I pulled out the myriad versions of chapter after chapter, hoping to bring some order to it all. Seeing it all lying there made me realize just how much writing I have done and think slightly less about the amount of work left to do. Sometimes it feels like an overwhelming idea, compiling all of this, baring my soul in the process. But really, how can I quit after all of this?
Posted in write right
What I Did On Summer Break: Belize
My first grown-up vacation, spent without herding kids or worrying about them at all. Just me and the GuyFriend walking, driving, and biking our way around Belize for two weeks. I couldn’t have asked for a nicer vacation, especially amid the months of unemployment gloom. I’d paid for my flight months before and the Guy made sure it was a real vacation. He’s always the one to be credited for the lovely photos. Thank you. Gracias. Mesi.
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- Parrot’s Nest Lodge
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- Biking back roads
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- Room for Rent
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- Best fusion dish ever
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- Sunburned
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- The jungle creeping over Altun Ha, central Belize.
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- The High Temple
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- Altun Ha
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- Curious cattle
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- Shipstern Nature Reserve
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- Sarteneja
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- Happy (tired) us.
Posted in ruckus time
Tagged Belize, dating, grown-up vacations, jungle sounds, ruckus, solo mama moxie, time alone, travel
Oh Yes, Brownies!
[Sorry for the lousy ipod pic, the good camera was with its owner today.]
It’s been nearly four years since I had a “real” brownie, or any other gluten-laden delight for that matter. But I keep trying to find gluten-free versions that will emulate the look and taste of the “real” thing. Yes, yes, I know I can make them for cheaper and probably as good or better, but when it’s just me I have to make it for… well, I like the ease of the package. Everyone else gets the homemade goodies.
Now I’ve tried a few different brownie mixes and I don’t particularly like Trader Joe’s version and there’s a non-dairy/non-gluten version out there that I keep mistakenly buying which I absolutely hate. It’s a big ol’ pan of oil every single time. Hate it. Even so, I can’t remember what it’s called and will probably buy it again at some point, excited that both the GuyFriend and I can eat it. I love every by Pamela’s Products, but not really her brownie mix. The pancake mix is the bomb, though. But this week, I finally found the gluten-free brownie mix that beats them all…Hodgson’s Mill. I haven’t seen the brand before and only found it because I was looking for sugar substitutes and it was there among the sugar-free/diabetic friendly offerings. I have no idea why because it isn’t sugar-free, but that’s where it was at Fred Meyer–not in the gluten-free section where it should be. The package makes it look like they’ll turn into those lousy, dense brownies you get out of vending machines, but I added about a cup of chocolate chips and a 1/2 cup of chopped walnuts and -bam- these were the absolute best brownies I’ve had in years. Delightful enough that there are only three brownies left (thanks, in large part, to my visiting nephew!).
Definitely recommended: Hodgson’s Mill Gluten Free Brownie Mix.
P.S. For all you gluten-free cooks/bakers out there, Pamela’s Products is having a recipe contest. You should enter. I might.
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Posted in ruckus time
Tagged baking, gluten free brownies, gluten free dessert, Hodgson Mill, Pamela's Products, yummy