Uh-oh. I just went back and read the list of things I wanted to do with my time off and I've only done three of them! I've gone to a Cubs game, taken the baby to parks & museums, and we took a weekend trip. That's it!
I actually did lose a little of the baby weight, but I want to lose more. I never did that Jillian Michaels DVD again, because I would wither and die if my father-in-law caught me in the act, sweating and squatting and panting for air. No, I think I'll stick to more dignified activities, thank you very much.
I haven't learned to crochet or juggle. I never went biking with the baby. Heck, I never even helped my mother in the garden. (Though, come to think of it, that one's really not my fault. It's been hotter than Channing Tatum all summer).
Learn another language? Record both sets of parents' family histories? Write a children's book? In a mere couple months? [Smacks forehead] Silly me - I'm not Superwoman!
Some other goals I didn't have a chance to do, or I purposely passed on them. There were no photography classes available at the park district. One of the schools I teach at was offering the faculty a free photography workshop, but I had plans that day. I'll keep an eye out for another opportunity. I opted not to join the creative writing group here in town because it meets early Saturday mornings, boo! If the group met at night, I would have gone. But I rather spend the morning with my husband and baby until I go back to work.
There are three weeks left of this extended maternity leave. I still have time to accomplish a few items on my list. I can definitely learn to cook something new. Wontons from scratch, yum. I can go to the library and check out Auto Repair for Dummies. I could do that today! And I MUST work on the baby book. Emmie is already seven months old! I don't want to regret that someday.
Okay, I am fully motivated! Let's get started! Here I go!
I'll keep you posted ;-)
Tuesday, July 31, 2012
Monday, July 30, 2012
Family Vacation
You have to A) really love them and/or B) be really broke to vacay with your in-laws when you live with them! twitter.com/AnnieMovingIn/…That was one of my first Tweets. The picture is the view from the balcony of the South Haven, Michigan house we stayed at over the weekend, complete with my FIL's legs and sandal-clad feet. The statement itself could not be more true.
— Annie Moving In (@AnnieMovingIn) July 28, 2012
A few weeks back Bruce's parents starting talking about taking a weekend trip as a family. Bruce's godfather, who is best friends with Bruce's dad, owns the house and we are very fortunate that he lets us use it. We've gone up there with Bruce's parents before and it was a pleasant time. That was pre-baby and pre-Moving In, however. This time I questioned if taking a vacation with my in-laws would really be a vacation at all.
But, as a trip on our own is not looking like it's in the financial cards for us this year, we decided to take what we could get. After all, it's beautiful there and it would be extremely inexpensive. Only a couple hours in the car, no lodging fees, cooking some meals instead of eating out. We couldn't refuse.
So on Friday I rushed around like a crazy woman, cramming seemingly everything belonging to Emmie in the car so that my MIL, the baby, and me could get on the road and pick up my SIL. The girls were leaving during the day and the guys were driving up after work. Really, I did NOT fully appreciate until now the old days when I just threw my things in a bag and headed out the door!
The weather in Michigan was ideal - clear, sunny, warm with a slight breeze. We uncorked the wine and read gossip magazines on the balcony as the boats sauntered by. Emmie must have wanted to join in the fun because she refused to take a nap. So all the girls went swimming in the pool. Emmie showed off to her auntie and grandma all the tricks she learned in swim class. After a while we got out, and I tried to put the baby down again, but she wouldn't sleep. Her grandma held her for a long time, until finally she fell into a deep slumber. I was grateful for the help.
The weekend actually was very relaxing. I worried that it would be family overload; I'm not going to lie. But it wasn't! You know how everyone has their own little quirks, and as much as you like the person, sometimes those quirks might get on your nerves? Well, that didn't happen too much.
Mostly it was just Bruce and me, our baby, his parents and his sister, hanging out. The guys arrived that first evening and we ordered pizza. We chatted on the balcony as the sun set. The next day we barbequed for lunch and all went swimming in the pool. We walked on the beach and Emmie got to play in the sand for the first time in her life. For dinner on Saturday we went to the Lucky Stone Pub at the Saugatuck Brewing Company and due to some mishaps, we ended up getting free dessert. That made it all better.
The one issue we had was that Bruce and I were in a bedroom with two twin beds and sharing with Emmie. Long after the baby had gone to sleep, we would quietly open the door and try to sneak into bed... "Waah!" Emmie started wailing right away. It happened both nights of our stay. As soon as Bruce and I were under the covers of our individual beds we froze until the baby slept. Any time we shifted in the night, the baby would stir. It was NOT cozy. Forget about romance; welcome to parenting on vacation!
The last day of the trip everyone watched the Olympics in the morning and sat around. We talked about how expensive it is to travel now and how hard it is to take time off from work to take a vacation anyways. How we appreciated the chance to get away so cheaply. We swam in the pool again. Because we had taken two cars, Bruce's parents were going to drive his sister back. That meant that my little family could leave when we wanted. The three of us stayed in the pool and had some much needed quality time.
When we got home, Bruce's parents were already here. The last time we went away, I felt a little wistful coming home and not feeling like my home. This time, though, it wasn't so sad. I just said hi, went upstairs, put our things away, and started dinner like I would in my own house.
Maybe I'm getting accustomed to this new life.
Thursday, July 26, 2012
I'm on Twitter!
I may not have a smartphone, but I am on Twitter! I would love for you to follow me @AnnieMovingIn
Just click on the Twitter link to the right -->
Just click on the Twitter link to the right -->
Monday, July 23, 2012
Violence, Terror, and Being a Parent
I had a fantastic weekend. I got some alone time with my hubby, hung out with friends, and my favorite baseball player finally received the honor he deserved.
But the in the back of my mind, I have been dealing with demons.
When I woke up Friday morning, I did the same thing I always do. I picked up Emmie from her crib, changed her, and settled into the armchair in my bedroom to feed her. Then I turned on the news. Immediately, I learned of the mass shooting at a midnight showing of Batman: The Dark Knight Rises.
My first thought was, 'Oh my God, it happened.'
You see, for years I have had a fear of movie theaters. It started when Bruce and I were in a theater, watching Inglorious Basterds. The heroine kills a theater full of Nazis. But my reaction was, "Something like that could totally happen at any time." And ever since, I have been afraid a crazy, random person might start shooting.
It's a fear I've been able to handle - I've seen a few movies since I developed it. But I always, always scan the other patrons, profiling them. I always anxiously watch who enters. I always know where the exits are. My mind is never entirely engulfed in the film itself.
It's not fun to live like that. I didn't used to.
In 2006, I worked at a large hotel in downtown Chicago. It was a Friday night, and a semi-famous rapper was staying in the hotel. That part is most likely unrelated, but I associate it with that night all the same. Back then, I used to smoke. It was about 8 o'clock at night, and I went to the underground level to have a cigarette.
In the suburbs, you can read a book and have smoke on your break outside without thinking twice. And I'm sure people in cities do all the time, too. I was just in the wrong place at the wrong time. Aren't all victims of crime?
There were other employees further down the way. I think a security guard was over there, too. But I wanted a little privacy and was partially around the corner from the door. It was well-lit and many cars were driving by. Now, homeless people live in this underground area. Not having lived in the city very long, I was trying to steel myself to their constant begging. I was reading and felt someone approaching. I still blame myself for this next action, or lack of: I didn't look up.
"Give me your purse," he said. He was already next to me.
I looked up. A young man in a white shirt and jeans, wearing a doo-rag, was holding a gun. Not at me exactly. But he held it so that I would see it, so that I instantly knew his intentions.
Silently, I lifted my purse strap off and handed him the bag. He fled towards a long maroon 1980's car across the street. Someone was in the driver's seat waiting for him. I remember I had two thoughts: 'Try to read the license plate!' And, 'If you look, he might shoot!' It was like those dreams, where you feel paralyzed and are running in slow motion. I made it to the door, threw it open, and yelled to the Valet Parking attendant, "Help me! I've been robbed!"
My fears didn't develop that night. They came on slowly. Weeks after the robbery, I called work in tears. I was supposed to work a 6 a.m. shift. It was winter and still dark outside. "I don't think I can come in," I told the night manager. He told me, if I didn't want to wait at the bus stop, the hotel would pay for me to take a cab. "You don't understand," I pleaded. "I don't want to leave the house."
The hotel arranged for me to speak with a therapist. I explained how I was scared to work there. He nodded, scribbled something and tried to rationalize, "Well, you could get shot anywhere you work." I never made a follow-up apointment with him.
After that, it was one thing or another. The robbery had taken from me a fundamental part of living: the abiltity to feel safe. I would be nervous walking home, even if I was with a group of people. I would lie awake at night, thinking if I fell asleep, I might not hear an intruder breaking in. I would scan the bar, to see if anyone looked dangerous. If something like getting robbed at gunpoint could actually happen to me, well, then anything bad could.
A lot of those fears have subsided. But new ones replace them, like tornadoes or flying. Or seeing movies in a theater. The strength of the terror has subsided drastically, but it still hides within me. I embrace logical reasoning now - statistics, etc. I pray a lot. I have to admit, living here with Bruce's parents and a dog is comforting to me sometimes, too. Every day I am so thankful that I'm alive, and my loved ones are, too. Every day that passes without incident is a victory to me.
So every time I hear of a disaster or a violent tragedy somewhere, all my ghosts rise up to torture me. I live the horror every victim experienced. I get lost in imagining the moments leading up to death. I mourn alongside the victims' family and friends. I worry that it could happen to me.
Now that I'm a parent, I want nothing more than to keep my family safe. But I do not want my daughter, or any future children, to be affected by my fear. Luckily I have Bruce as the other half of my parenting duo. Nothing stops him - he actually just left to go see the damn movie with his dad. His fearlessness balances me out. When I am afraid, he reminds me that we can't stop living our lives because of potential dangers. What kind of life is one that is safe, but not fully lived?
I would love for my children to remain innocent as long as possible. Eventually they will grow up, however, and be exposed to the darkness of the real world.
I want my children to know not to take life for granted. I want them to be brave and strong and fearless. But I do not want them be the naïve kind of people who think, "It can't happen to me." Because sadly, it can.
I want my children to know how precious life is. To be happy and cherish time spent with loved ones. To know how beautiful life can be, too.
What I experienced was the threat of violence. I wasn't physically harmed; I am still here. So even though I am often afraid, I am also grateful. Because the experience taught me to value life. If I can pass that lesson on to my children, then good will have triumphed over evil.
But the in the back of my mind, I have been dealing with demons.
When I woke up Friday morning, I did the same thing I always do. I picked up Emmie from her crib, changed her, and settled into the armchair in my bedroom to feed her. Then I turned on the news. Immediately, I learned of the mass shooting at a midnight showing of Batman: The Dark Knight Rises.
My first thought was, 'Oh my God, it happened.'
You see, for years I have had a fear of movie theaters. It started when Bruce and I were in a theater, watching Inglorious Basterds. The heroine kills a theater full of Nazis. But my reaction was, "Something like that could totally happen at any time." And ever since, I have been afraid a crazy, random person might start shooting.
It's a fear I've been able to handle - I've seen a few movies since I developed it. But I always, always scan the other patrons, profiling them. I always anxiously watch who enters. I always know where the exits are. My mind is never entirely engulfed in the film itself.
It's not fun to live like that. I didn't used to.
In 2006, I worked at a large hotel in downtown Chicago. It was a Friday night, and a semi-famous rapper was staying in the hotel. That part is most likely unrelated, but I associate it with that night all the same. Back then, I used to smoke. It was about 8 o'clock at night, and I went to the underground level to have a cigarette.
In the suburbs, you can read a book and have smoke on your break outside without thinking twice. And I'm sure people in cities do all the time, too. I was just in the wrong place at the wrong time. Aren't all victims of crime?
There were other employees further down the way. I think a security guard was over there, too. But I wanted a little privacy and was partially around the corner from the door. It was well-lit and many cars were driving by. Now, homeless people live in this underground area. Not having lived in the city very long, I was trying to steel myself to their constant begging. I was reading and felt someone approaching. I still blame myself for this next action, or lack of: I didn't look up.
"Give me your purse," he said. He was already next to me.
I looked up. A young man in a white shirt and jeans, wearing a doo-rag, was holding a gun. Not at me exactly. But he held it so that I would see it, so that I instantly knew his intentions.
Silently, I lifted my purse strap off and handed him the bag. He fled towards a long maroon 1980's car across the street. Someone was in the driver's seat waiting for him. I remember I had two thoughts: 'Try to read the license plate!' And, 'If you look, he might shoot!' It was like those dreams, where you feel paralyzed and are running in slow motion. I made it to the door, threw it open, and yelled to the Valet Parking attendant, "Help me! I've been robbed!"
My fears didn't develop that night. They came on slowly. Weeks after the robbery, I called work in tears. I was supposed to work a 6 a.m. shift. It was winter and still dark outside. "I don't think I can come in," I told the night manager. He told me, if I didn't want to wait at the bus stop, the hotel would pay for me to take a cab. "You don't understand," I pleaded. "I don't want to leave the house."
The hotel arranged for me to speak with a therapist. I explained how I was scared to work there. He nodded, scribbled something and tried to rationalize, "Well, you could get shot anywhere you work." I never made a follow-up apointment with him.
After that, it was one thing or another. The robbery had taken from me a fundamental part of living: the abiltity to feel safe. I would be nervous walking home, even if I was with a group of people. I would lie awake at night, thinking if I fell asleep, I might not hear an intruder breaking in. I would scan the bar, to see if anyone looked dangerous. If something like getting robbed at gunpoint could actually happen to me, well, then anything bad could.
A lot of those fears have subsided. But new ones replace them, like tornadoes or flying. Or seeing movies in a theater. The strength of the terror has subsided drastically, but it still hides within me. I embrace logical reasoning now - statistics, etc. I pray a lot. I have to admit, living here with Bruce's parents and a dog is comforting to me sometimes, too. Every day I am so thankful that I'm alive, and my loved ones are, too. Every day that passes without incident is a victory to me.
So every time I hear of a disaster or a violent tragedy somewhere, all my ghosts rise up to torture me. I live the horror every victim experienced. I get lost in imagining the moments leading up to death. I mourn alongside the victims' family and friends. I worry that it could happen to me.
Now that I'm a parent, I want nothing more than to keep my family safe. But I do not want my daughter, or any future children, to be affected by my fear. Luckily I have Bruce as the other half of my parenting duo. Nothing stops him - he actually just left to go see the damn movie with his dad. His fearlessness balances me out. When I am afraid, he reminds me that we can't stop living our lives because of potential dangers. What kind of life is one that is safe, but not fully lived?
I would love for my children to remain innocent as long as possible. Eventually they will grow up, however, and be exposed to the darkness of the real world.
I want my children to know not to take life for granted. I want them to be brave and strong and fearless. But I do not want them be the naïve kind of people who think, "It can't happen to me." Because sadly, it can.
I want my children to know how precious life is. To be happy and cherish time spent with loved ones. To know how beautiful life can be, too.
What I experienced was the threat of violence. I wasn't physically harmed; I am still here. So even though I am often afraid, I am also grateful. Because the experience taught me to value life. If I can pass that lesson on to my children, then good will have triumphed over evil.
Sunday, July 22, 2012
#10 Is Home
This is off topic, but...
Congratulations to Ron Santo, who moved in to the Baseball Hall of Fame today.
It's about time.
Congratulations to Ron Santo, who moved in to the Baseball Hall of Fame today.
It's about time.
I'm a Survivor!
I'm not gonna stop!
I'm gonna work harder!
(Bruce and Denny, singing the anthem of our lives):
I'm gonna work harder!
(Bruce and Denny, singing the anthem of our lives):
Friday, July 20, 2012
Friday Al Fresco
Bruce arranged for his parents to watch Emmie so he and I could have dinner out.
The weather is mild and breezy; we got a table on the patio, and the food, brews, and conversation are fine.
How enjoyable.
The weather is mild and breezy; we got a table on the patio, and the food, brews, and conversation are fine.
How enjoyable.
Thursday, July 19, 2012
Baby and Me Party
Swimming class ended today. I have a calendar full of blanks for the next month and a half.
Emmie got a cute little certificate. I text a picture of it to Bruce and he responded, "Should we frame it? It's her first certificate for completing something."
Um, Bruce? Birth certificate? She completed travelling through my birth canal. She went from womb to world. That's a pretty big deal. Just sayin'...
My friend, Kate, whose daughter has swimming lessons at the same time, asked if we wanted to hang out afterwards. Now, normally I would grab any opportunity to get out of the house and never let go, but today I turned her down. Because Bruce's dad went into the office. Empty house to ourselves! Woohoo!
I stopped and got fast food (a terrible, very occasional guilty pleasure that I swear I will deny once Emmie is old enough to fall victim to red-headed clowns and tiny plastic toys) on the way home. Oh, the shame - I ate it watching TV and then shoved the evidence far down into the garbage can. I would never do that with Bruce's parents around!
When Emmie wakes up from her nap we're gonna remove the in-laws' iPod from the stereo dock and replace it with mine. We're gonna turn the volume up and have a dance party in the living room.
Have you seen the new Muppets movie? Amy Adams and Miss Piggy sing, "I'm having a me-party." I LOVE, LOVE, LOVE this song! Check it out:
Today, we're having a baby & me party.
Emmie got a cute little certificate. I text a picture of it to Bruce and he responded, "Should we frame it? It's her first certificate for completing something."
Um, Bruce? Birth certificate? She completed travelling through my birth canal. She went from womb to world. That's a pretty big deal. Just sayin'...
My friend, Kate, whose daughter has swimming lessons at the same time, asked if we wanted to hang out afterwards. Now, normally I would grab any opportunity to get out of the house and never let go, but today I turned her down. Because Bruce's dad went into the office. Empty house to ourselves! Woohoo!
I stopped and got fast food (a terrible, very occasional guilty pleasure that I swear I will deny once Emmie is old enough to fall victim to red-headed clowns and tiny plastic toys) on the way home. Oh, the shame - I ate it watching TV and then shoved the evidence far down into the garbage can. I would never do that with Bruce's parents around!
When Emmie wakes up from her nap we're gonna remove the in-laws' iPod from the stereo dock and replace it with mine. We're gonna turn the volume up and have a dance party in the living room.
Have you seen the new Muppets movie? Amy Adams and Miss Piggy sing, "I'm having a me-party." I LOVE, LOVE, LOVE this song! Check it out:
Today, we're having a baby & me party.
Wednesday, July 18, 2012
Freebies for the Financially Challenged
You don't need money in your pocket to have a nice time. I think sometimes we forget that we don't always have to pay for stuff. Here are some things I enjoy that cost nothing, or next-to-nothing:
What do you like to do that's free? I'd love to hear. Leave a comment and share your ideas!
- The library - You can read anything you want! Learn something or escape through your imagination! Bruce is a big fan of checking out CDs. They have all the most recent music. And if they don't have it, they can get it for you.
- Fireworks - Not just on the 4th of July. There's a Single A baseball team near where I live and you can see the show for miles. Oohing and ahhing never gets old!
 |
| Navy Pier in Chicago has fireworks every Wednesday and Saturday night throughout the summer. |
- The radio - Haha, yes, the radio; it still exists. I am especially fond of bad 80's love songs. Think Richard Marx, Michael McDonald, etc. Those songs are kind of hilarious and remind me of being a kid in the backseat of my parents' car. Also college rock stations, baseball, NPR.
- Board games - I read somewhere that the sales of board games has gone way up since the economy tanked. My friends and family love to sit around and play trivia, strategy games, cards, whatever. There's a game for everyone.
- "Recession Friday" - My friends came up with this some years back, when we all lived within walking distance of each other in the city. We were tired of the bar scene and couldn't afford it, either. So at the end of another work week we'd gather at someone's apartment and share a case of beer or some cheap wine, and watch YouTube videos. We didn't miss going out at all.
- Museums - Check your local newspaper, or go directly to the museum's website to see if there are free days. In Chicago, the tax-funded Museums in the Park are required to have 52 free days a year to give back to the community. Plus, lots of local museums don't charge admission. There's all kinds of culture out there, for all ages.
- Spirituality - A few of my friends are actively involved in their church and they derive great satisfaction from that. I have another friend who practices meditation, which brings calm to many facets of her life.
- Drawing/Art - You have a pencil and some scratch paper. Or you could get fancy with crayons, watercolors, pastels, oil. Even if you don't have the talent, attempting to create something visual requires a focus that we are often lacking in our daily routines.
- Fairs & Festivals - Every town has got something going on. I really delight in live outdoor music, parades, and people watching.
 |
| Emmie (crawling, though she'll probably be walking by then), Bruce, and me in our own yard someday. Clearly I'm never getting my own art exhibition! |
What do you like to do that's free? I'd love to hear. Leave a comment and share your ideas!
Friday, July 13, 2012
Oh Lord, Won't You Buy Me a Mercedes-Benz?
Come to think of it, I'll take any car that runs and is relatively free of problems.
Bruce and I have two cars. They are both hand-me-downs: one was from his parents and one was from his aunt. They were both manufactured before we could vote; that gives you an idea of how old they are.
Neither car is in good shape. They both came with issues. We've been patiently repairing them as they occur - we have to get around, and unfortunately it is easier for us to pay for repairs on a credit card than it is for us to take out a loan for a new(-ish) car. But the excrement (to put it nicely) really hit the fan for me when I went out to lunch with a colleague.
I took Emmie with to meet my colleague/friend at a popular cafe in town. We had a lovely lunch and it felt really good to talk about work-related topics. Afterwards she and I said our goodbyes and walked to our cars. My car was parked right in front of the restaurant. The patrons had a clear view of me through the large glass window front.
I placed Emmie's car seat in its base in the back, then walked around to the driver's side door. I put the key in, unlocked it, and pulled the handle. Nothing. There was no give. I tried again. Nothing. I peered inside; the handle was jutting out at an awkward angle. Sure enough, the inside handle was broken. I couldn't open the door.
Up until very recently the heat wave in the Midwest had been, according to NOAA, "unrelenting". It was 100 degrees outside. How was I to get in the car? Sweat droplets falling off my forehead, I climbed in the car through the front passenger door. Very couth. I felt like the whole town was watching. I was mortified.
I fumed on the way home. I can't climb in and out of the car every time I need to go anywhere. If there was an emergency, I wouldn't be able to get to Emmie in the backseat quickly. This was yet another problem we'd have to dump money on. When I got home, I climbed back out of the car, retrieved Emmie, came into my in-laws' air-conditioned house and announced, "I'm so sick of being poor!" And then promptly burst into tears.
My father-in-law said he'd take a look at the car in the morning when it was cooler outside. I didn't feel very hopeful.
Later that night, I drove Bruce's car. During the short trip, I figured out that the air-conditioning doesn't work. It just blows hot air. Bruce had been driving this way all through the heatwave and didn't say a thing! Then, when I went to brake at a stoplight, the brake pedal groaned loudly and PUSHED BACK UP AT MY FOOT. What the heck was that?! It scared me. It happened two more times while I was driving it.
I got home safely. The next morning I woke up super depressed. I hate being poor. I feel like Scarlett O'Hara in Gone with the Wind, shaking a rotten potato on top of a barren hill, declaring, "I'll never go hungry again!" I remember, in the glorious 1990's, driving my first new car and feeling fine. Someday, I will feel that way again. But in that moment, the automobile situation seemed pretty sucky.
I was feeding Emmie in my bedroom and pouting to myself when Bruce popped in. "We fixed it!" He proudly proclaimed. Bruce found a video on YouTube on how to replace one door handle with another. His father did the grunt work. It works like nothing was ever wrong. Best of all, the repair was free.
Bruce's dad really came through for us. I couldn't say 'thank you' enough.
I was able to meet my girlfriends on time for wedding dress shopping that day. Once there, Veronica told me that she doesn't have air-conditioning in her car, either. I admitted that, though I am sorry for her, hearing that made me feel a little better about our car-tastrophes. It's not just me and Bruce; lots of people are driving cars from the early 2000's. My mother's car broke down the other day. Many of us are driving around in old cars, getting them fixed, doing our best to maintain them until things get better.
Until they do, we're all just going to have to help each other out. Our cars might be busted, but our relationships could get a tune-up out of it.
Bruce and I have two cars. They are both hand-me-downs: one was from his parents and one was from his aunt. They were both manufactured before we could vote; that gives you an idea of how old they are.
Neither car is in good shape. They both came with issues. We've been patiently repairing them as they occur - we have to get around, and unfortunately it is easier for us to pay for repairs on a credit card than it is for us to take out a loan for a new(-ish) car. But the excrement (to put it nicely) really hit the fan for me when I went out to lunch with a colleague.
I took Emmie with to meet my colleague/friend at a popular cafe in town. We had a lovely lunch and it felt really good to talk about work-related topics. Afterwards she and I said our goodbyes and walked to our cars. My car was parked right in front of the restaurant. The patrons had a clear view of me through the large glass window front.
I placed Emmie's car seat in its base in the back, then walked around to the driver's side door. I put the key in, unlocked it, and pulled the handle. Nothing. There was no give. I tried again. Nothing. I peered inside; the handle was jutting out at an awkward angle. Sure enough, the inside handle was broken. I couldn't open the door.
Up until very recently the heat wave in the Midwest had been, according to NOAA, "unrelenting". It was 100 degrees outside. How was I to get in the car? Sweat droplets falling off my forehead, I climbed in the car through the front passenger door. Very couth. I felt like the whole town was watching. I was mortified.
I fumed on the way home. I can't climb in and out of the car every time I need to go anywhere. If there was an emergency, I wouldn't be able to get to Emmie in the backseat quickly. This was yet another problem we'd have to dump money on. When I got home, I climbed back out of the car, retrieved Emmie, came into my in-laws' air-conditioned house and announced, "I'm so sick of being poor!" And then promptly burst into tears.
My father-in-law said he'd take a look at the car in the morning when it was cooler outside. I didn't feel very hopeful.
Later that night, I drove Bruce's car. During the short trip, I figured out that the air-conditioning doesn't work. It just blows hot air. Bruce had been driving this way all through the heatwave and didn't say a thing! Then, when I went to brake at a stoplight, the brake pedal groaned loudly and PUSHED BACK UP AT MY FOOT. What the heck was that?! It scared me. It happened two more times while I was driving it.
I got home safely. The next morning I woke up super depressed. I hate being poor. I feel like Scarlett O'Hara in Gone with the Wind, shaking a rotten potato on top of a barren hill, declaring, "I'll never go hungry again!" I remember, in the glorious 1990's, driving my first new car and feeling fine. Someday, I will feel that way again. But in that moment, the automobile situation seemed pretty sucky.
I was feeding Emmie in my bedroom and pouting to myself when Bruce popped in. "We fixed it!" He proudly proclaimed. Bruce found a video on YouTube on how to replace one door handle with another. His father did the grunt work. It works like nothing was ever wrong. Best of all, the repair was free.
Bruce's dad really came through for us. I couldn't say 'thank you' enough.
I was able to meet my girlfriends on time for wedding dress shopping that day. Once there, Veronica told me that she doesn't have air-conditioning in her car, either. I admitted that, though I am sorry for her, hearing that made me feel a little better about our car-tastrophes. It's not just me and Bruce; lots of people are driving cars from the early 2000's. My mother's car broke down the other day. Many of us are driving around in old cars, getting them fixed, doing our best to maintain them until things get better.
Until they do, we're all just going to have to help each other out. Our cars might be busted, but our relationships could get a tune-up out of it.
Tuesday, July 10, 2012
Splish Splash
Emmie and I are taking infant swim classes at the park district. So fun - we sing songs, dip the babies in and out of the water, and play with pool toys. Plus Emmie is super cute in her pink & white/polka dot/tutu bathing suit!
I always knew I wanted to do this because I never really learned how to swim. I can get around, but it's not pretty. When I was in high school, we had a semester of swimming and all the other kids knew different strokes and everything. I paddled around breathlessly. So I figured with my babies I would start early.
The other HUGE benefit is that we get out of the house each day! Emmie gets to see other babies and I know we have something to do. One of my girlfriend's daughters has a class around the same time, so I get to socialize as well. I've been counting down the days, and it's wonderful that now they're here.
It's especially important for a new mother to go out into the world and remember she is a real person, besides being someone's mommy. If that mother happens to be out of work, living with her in-laws (one of whom works from home), it is absolutely vital!
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| Emmie (in pink) and me in the pool |
I always knew I wanted to do this because I never really learned how to swim. I can get around, but it's not pretty. When I was in high school, we had a semester of swimming and all the other kids knew different strokes and everything. I paddled around breathlessly. So I figured with my babies I would start early.
The other HUGE benefit is that we get out of the house each day! Emmie gets to see other babies and I know we have something to do. One of my girlfriend's daughters has a class around the same time, so I get to socialize as well. I've been counting down the days, and it's wonderful that now they're here.
It's especially important for a new mother to go out into the world and remember she is a real person, besides being someone's mommy. If that mother happens to be out of work, living with her in-laws (one of whom works from home), it is absolutely vital!
Friday, July 6, 2012
The American Dream
Hope you had a happy Independence Day!
Bruce, Emmie, and I spent it up north in Wisconsin, visiting a different in-law: Bruce's sister. It was a classic couple days of brats, cheese, and beer. All was peaceful, until I pulled out a Chicago Bears baby bottle for Emmie in public. I quickly realized all Packers' eyes were on us. Luckily we made it out of there safely.
You know the feeling of coming home after a trip away? You open the door, put down your bags, and inhale the satisfaction of being home again?
I miss that.
Don't get me wrong - I feel as comfortable as I could here. We have our bed and TV and some pictures on the wall, but it's more like an extended stay somewhere else. And that's fine, because yearning for a key to our own front door keeps us motivated.
If we work hard for what we want, someday we're gonna move out and upwards. Isn't that what America's all about?
Bruce, Emmie, and I spent it up north in Wisconsin, visiting a different in-law: Bruce's sister. It was a classic couple days of brats, cheese, and beer. All was peaceful, until I pulled out a Chicago Bears baby bottle for Emmie in public. I quickly realized all Packers' eyes were on us. Luckily we made it out of there safely.
You know the feeling of coming home after a trip away? You open the door, put down your bags, and inhale the satisfaction of being home again?
I miss that.
Don't get me wrong - I feel as comfortable as I could here. We have our bed and TV and some pictures on the wall, but it's more like an extended stay somewhere else. And that's fine, because yearning for a key to our own front door keeps us motivated.
If we work hard for what we want, someday we're gonna move out and upwards. Isn't that what America's all about?
Monday, July 2, 2012
Sturm und Drang
Yes, so the past couple weekends Bruce and I have had the chance to relive our younger days and spend time with friends in the city, sans baby. Thanks to the wonderful childcare services of my mother-in-law.
And that has been great... except for the fact that my body knows it's not in its 20's anymore. Yesterday I was in some pretty rough shape! I'm sort of relieved that my calendar is fairly empty this month.
In the Midwest we are experiencing just awful weather. Every day it's been near 100 degrees. And when it's not, it's because terribly severe storms are pounding through. Yesterday, when I was recuperating, the skies got pitch back around noon, the trees were blowing almost horizontal, and rain and hail pelted the ground.
Admittedly, I get nervous during storms. Only because I read Night of the Twisters by Ivy Ruckman about a zillion times when I was a child - so I developed a tornado trepidation. The storm combined with my after-party yuckiness made me all edgy.
This morning, I got an email from a good friend with this attachment:
I'm trying! You can call me Twinkle Toes over here. Unless there's cloud-to-ground lightning or the sky turns green. Then let's break it down in the basement.
And that has been great... except for the fact that my body knows it's not in its 20's anymore. Yesterday I was in some pretty rough shape! I'm sort of relieved that my calendar is fairly empty this month.
In the Midwest we are experiencing just awful weather. Every day it's been near 100 degrees. And when it's not, it's because terribly severe storms are pounding through. Yesterday, when I was recuperating, the skies got pitch back around noon, the trees were blowing almost horizontal, and rain and hail pelted the ground.
Admittedly, I get nervous during storms. Only because I read Night of the Twisters by Ivy Ruckman about a zillion times when I was a child - so I developed a tornado trepidation. The storm combined with my after-party yuckiness made me all edgy.
This morning, I got an email from a good friend with this attachment:
I'm trying! You can call me Twinkle Toes over here. Unless there's cloud-to-ground lightning or the sky turns green. Then let's break it down in the basement.
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