Not-So-Stormy Conditions

What the heck?! It's January, 60 degrees and rainy today. It's days like today, when the weather could potentially become severe and tornadoes are a possibility, that I am really glad Bruce's dad is home. His presence makes me feel more calm. It's pretty childish, I'll admit, to feel safer because there's a "grown-up" around.

I'll miss him, though, when we get our own place and I have to be the adult all the time - even when I'm scared!

All's Well (Except for My Sister-in-Law)

Unfortunately, Bruce's sister is sick, so his parents didn't go up to visit her. Thus, our plans were uninterrupted by doggie duties.

A nice twist was that Bruce's parents offered to watch Emmie overnight so we could go have fun celebrating Denny's birthday.

Happy 33rd (not 34th) birthday, Denny!

And I would never forget to sincerely say "Thank You" to my in-laws, either!

Late Ruminations

Doggone It

This weekend Bruce and I were planning on going to our friend Denny's house to celebrate his birthday.  He has a kid-friendly house that Emmie loves to explore, so we would all go.

Yesterday morning, on the phone, Bruce asked me if I recalled anything about his parents going to visit his sister this weekend.  They never said anything to me.  They never said anything to him, either.  But his mother played it off like, "Oh, I swore I told you."

We had plans, but now we have to take care of their dog.

The thing is, we would have absolutely no problem helping them out - lord knows they've helped us a bunch.  But they never asked.  Not once.  Every time we've needed anything, we have asked.  That's the difference.  So finally tonight Bruce's mom popped her head in Emmie's bedroom and asked, "So you will be able to take care of the dog while we're gone?"

"Yes," we responded. "We'll figure it out."

"Okay," she said, and walked away.  So far, we haven't heard a thank you.

The Madwoman on the Second Floor

I spend almost the entire day upstairs.  Except for breakfast and lunch in the kitchen, when Emmie is strapped into her highchair and I sit in the chair - Dad's chair, technically - next to her.  Otherwise we usually spend a minimum of 6 hours in her room or my room. 

The hallway is gated off, so the baby is free to roam between the two rooms.  We don't hang out downstairs because nothing is babyproofed, and I need to get work done during the day.  She plays and reads while I grade papers, write lesson plans, or do homework for the class I'm taking.  It's not terrible, but it sometimes feels like I'm the princess in the tower, going crazy, waiting for her true life to begin.

Bruce and I were looking at houses for sale online.  With each one I imagined the baby playing freely, me working at a real table, instead of on a bed or a floor.  One house had a finished, fully carpeted basement - I could build bookshelves and have a desk, and Emmie could have her own play corner.  Or,  we could have a kitchen where I could cook and she could roam, within eyesight.  As it is right now, when I cook, I strap her in the highchair and try to keep her from getting restless.

Oh, I can't wait until we rescue ourselves!

Time=Money

I gave my two weeks notice to the purse store.  They had asked me to stay on past my 90-day seasonal employment term; however, at the last minute I had a Sunday class added to my teaching schedule.  If I continue to work at the store on Saturdays (it's required to work one day on the weekend), I would never have a day off together with Bruce.  The extra money is nice, the discount is better, but it's a sacrifice I'm not willing to make. 

I realize there are millions of people in this world who have no choice but to work all the time.  I feel blessed that I am able to choose.  Our living situation is not the best, but I have never had to worry about going hungry, either.

Ultimately, none of us know how long we will be here.  That notion is always near the top of my thoughts.  It makes tough decisions for me.  It calms me down when I want to scream at Bruce's parents.  It also makes me want to accomplish everything I dream - yesterday.  It creates conflict.  Not working more means earning less means less monetary power.  Working more means more money and less family time.

I choose family.  No regrets.  Even when I'm living with too many of them!

Sick Ward

The weather's been mild, but this winter's been a bad one for illnesses.  Everyone I know has battled or is battling something, usually for much longer than normal.  The same goes here.  Confine four adults in one house and the germs just fly back and forth.

In the past few weeks we've all come down with colds.  Last week Bruce and his mom called off sick from work.  Yesterday I called off and today Bruce's dad did.  Each one of us is laying around somewhere with sweats on, coughing and sniffling.  It's gross.

I'm just glad it hasn't affected Emmie so far - knock on wood.  She's in the best shape of us all.  It's hard to chase around a little one who's full of energy when you feel terrible, though.  Also, I'll be relieved to get through this season without any of us contracting the flu.  Bruce, Emmie, and I have had flu shots (not that they're effective this year, anyways).  Bruce's parents haven't.

I start school again tonight.  My goal is to get as much rest and fluids as possible before I go.  Needless to say, class will be short.

Pass the tissues, please...

UPDATE: Bruce reminded me that in fact, Emmie was sick, over her birthday and Christmas. So maybe this is all her doing! Where could she have gotten it from? It's not like she goes to work, haha.

Walking out that Door

Is it still Tuesday? Oh, good - because I have a tune to share with you!

Yesterday after I wrote the post about accepting my fate of living here, I got in a huge fight with Bruce's dad.

Well, it probably wasn't a huge fight.  Bruce doesn't think it was, though he wasn't there to see it.

It was about the cats and really not worth going into detail.  Basically, we have been letting Minnie out more and more, and she has behaved well, using the litter box like she should.  As a matter of fact the grumpy cat, Sasha, peed on the couch the other day.  When I heard, I couldn't help feeling relief that it wasn't our cat.

I keep asking Bruce, "Is it okay that Minnie's out of the basement right now?"  He assures me that it's fine, that his mother approves.  So yesterday, I let the cat out when I heard her meowing.

Bruce's dad came home from work and went upstairs, while Emmie and I were eating breakfast.  "Oh, Minnie!" He proclaimed.  "What are you doing out?!"  His remarks felt very pointed.

When Bruce's mom came home for lunch, he said to her in front of me, "Did you happen to let the cats out today?" And I lost it.  I just knew that he was asking his wife what he really meant for me to hear.

"I let the cats out," I said, each word leaving me heavily.  "I was under the impression that it was okay to."

"Since when?!" He grunted.

"I don't know. It's been months since Minnie's had an accident," I sputtered.  "Bruce said it was okay."

That's when Bruce's mom chimed in, thank goodness: "I did tell Bruce that I want the cats to be let out during the day."

Bruce's dad looked wildly from me to his wife.  "Well, I just don't want to be cleaning up another accident!"  Which is pretty funny considering I don't think he's ever cleaned up after the cats once.

And so, a garbled mess continued where I tried my best to defend my actions and my cat.  I have to blame this on Bruce, really, for always saying he wishes I'd speak up for myself.  My normal routine is to keep my mouth shut, get really angry alone, and then complain about everything later.

I'm not good with confrontation and neither is my father-in-law.  He stormed upstairs while we were going back and forth.  A few minutes later, he came back downstairs, clearly angry.  I decided right then to apologize for upsetting him.  He, in turn, accused me of getting really defensive.  I admitted that I did, but partly because he oftentimes seems accusatory in his manner of speaking.  Passive-aggressive, too, but I didn't say that part.  He tied his shoelaces and abruptly left the house.

After that, I felt terrible and irritated and worried: What would things be like between Bruce's dad and me the next time we saw each other?

When I relayed the events to Bruce on the phone, he laughed.  He said, "It doesn't really sound like anything happened except you apologizing for stuff."  But, I was shaking; I replied.  To me, it was a big deal.

I went to work that night, and when I came home I avoided my father-in-law, who was again sitting on the couch like normal.  I cried to Bruce in our room and told him how miserable I felt.  How I feel like the last year or so of our lives hasn't been our real life.  Except for Emmie.  I knew I wouldn't want to sit awkwardly at breakfast with Bruce's dad the next morning, so we developed a plan.   I would drive Bruce to work (the old car's oil light went on and we aren't driving it until we can afford to fix it) and leave with the baby in the morning.

So that's what we did.  It was great.  The baby got up; I changed her, and we dressed to go out.  Then we walked down the stairs and out the front door.  We went to breakfast together at this diner I've been wanting to try.

"Table for one and a half," I told the host.  It was breakfast just for the girls.

Then Emmie and I went grocery shopping and came home just before noon.  It was such a pleasant morning.  By then I had gathered enough courage to face Bruce's father and act normal.  With less eye contact.

Today's tune can't sum up what I want any better: "To break free."  God knows!  This is my new anthem.  It's time, my friends.  I always try to count my blessings, but I am so looking forward to the next chapter.

FREEDOM!

Don't Wake the Baby

The floors here are extremely creaky.  We noticed it immediately after we moved in.  The house isn't that old - maybe 25 years.  Yet upstairs, downstairs, in the bathroom or the hallways, the floor emits cries of strain whenever feet are upon it.  Of course, it is especially bad right outside of Emmie's room.  She can be a light sleeper, particularly when she is teething or something else is bothering her.  You try to walk by as lightly as possible, but inevitably, "Errrrk! Crack! Uggghhh" goes the floor.  "Waaah!" Goes the baby.

At least, Bruce, his mom, and I try to step as lightly as possible.  Bruce's father either doesn't try or is incapable of it.  He walks by, "like a walrus", quoth Bruce.  And it seems as if he needs to travel back and forth through the upstairs hallway even more than normal when Emmie is sleeping.  Then it sounds like this: "Pound! Pound! Pound!"

Often, Bruce and I will be in our room, being quiet, when we hear him approaching.  The noise registers on the baby monitor.  We'll exchange worried glances right before the baby starts to scream.  It almost never fails.  Now that Bruce's dad has this part-time job in the early mornings, it's practically a guarantee that come 3:30 a.m. when Dad has to go to work, he'll wake the baby.  It sucks.

Recently my in-laws saw an infomercial on TV for a miracle product that would eliminate the creakiness.  It had something to do with securing the floor to the joists. (Don't ask me what a joist is, exactly).  The way Bruce described it, the idea was to put a nail or screw into the beam in the floor, which would be covered by the carpet.  So they purchased it, watched the instructional video, and when I was at work one day, Bruce's dad spent several hours trying to fix the problem.  When I came home, I went upstairs to change my clothes.  "Crick! Crack!" went the the floor.

When I came back down, Bruce's mom beamed at me.  "Don't the floors seem better to you?"  It makes me a little sad to remember how proud she looked.

"Um, yeah," I conceded.  But they really didn't.

The baby continues to be awakened by the loud floors, usually because of Bruce's dad's stride.  Yesterday Bruce was going to put the baby to bed for a nap, and therefore asked preemtively, "Does anyone need anything from upstairs?  Because I'm going to put the baby down now, and when we walk by it tends to wake her up."  No, neither of his parents needed anything, thank you.

Then, twenty minutes later, one of them did.  "Waaah!" Went the baby.

Bruce and I have spent a lot of time being angry about this situation.  It's absolutely frustrating.  If we had our own house, we would probably tiptoe if we had noisy floors or wait to cross the hallway until after the baby arose.  The reality is that it's not our house.  His parents can do whatever they like.  And it must suck for them, too, to hear the baby cry as they pass.  Nobody likes to make Emmie upset.  We all love her.

This is another one of those dilemmas that won't go away until we do.  We have to accept it.  After all, it isn't hurting Emmie.  She either ends up going back to sleep, or one of us goes in to get her.  When we open the door, she always breaks into a smile.

Beyond the Blues

The holidays are finally behind us, and life is starting to get back to normal. Business at the store has slowed down; I have a week off to try and put my every day life back together. The baby's new toys and clothes are getting properly put away, we returned the items that didn't fit and/or were doubles, so the bags and boxes that were taking up precious space have disappeared. When you only have two rooms to call your own, open space is vital. Physically and mentally.

Things between Bruce and I have been good. It was really strenuous between us for a while - there were all kinds of issues that were bringing us down. It was heightened by the fact that holidays = family time. Now we feel more like ourselves. We try to ignore the drama and focus on what's important. We spend a lot of time as just us three.

Bruce made me a CD shortly after we moved in here, full of meaningful songs meant to get me through the hard times that were sure to come.  These past few months have indeed been a struggle.  There were moments when neither of us felt we could see the other side of this - the day we have our own place and get our life back.  It seemed as if the foundation we have been building these years as a couple could be shattered.  We've each said, more than once, "I don't know if I can keep doing this."

However, we both know deep down that we are the other's teammate.  Bruce may not always deal with his feelings well, and I might be too sensitive and stubborn.  But ultimately, we are on the same "side".  All those times I should've just put this song on from the mix CD, sat back, and listened.  Isn't that what the blues is all about? Helping us unwind when the going gets tough.

Start with Resolve

Last night I couldn't sleep, so one of the articles I ended up reading was this sweet, often funny, and insightful list of certain famous people's resolutions. I drifted off thinking of Woody Guthrie's desire to "keep [his] hoping machine running" (#19).  I just love that.  I need to keep mine running, as well.


Woody Guthrie's "New Years Rulin's", 1942 (from brainpickings.org)

This morning I was looking over the online class syllabus for which I will be a student (it's a class on how to be an online teacher - which is somewhat Through the Looking-Glass to me) when I realized that I definitely have goals I'd like to achieve in 2013. 

Here are some accomplishments I would like to add to my personal experience in 2013:

1. Buy a house.   You knew this would be at the top of the list!  Annie would very much like to be "Moving In" to a new home this year!
2. Write more.  I tried to write a poem for Emmie on the occasion of her 1st birthday, but it fell flat.  I also have about 10 fiction ideas I would like to get down on paper.  This resolution is always ongoing - perhaps I need to really attend a Writer's Group to extract the words from my head.
3. Professionally evolve.  I'm starting this one off on the right foot by taking that online class.  My hope is to become an online instructor this year for a couple reasons.  I believe that higher education will become increasingly technical and web-based, and I want to ensure that I stay current.  Also, if I can teach online I can avoid losing out on a semester of work in the future if (when!) I am on maternity leave again.
4. Fly on a plane without anxiety, i.e.: staying strong for my daughter's sake.  I know that I will be attending my friend's wedding in California this year.  I'm already freaking out about that first plane ride we will take as a family.  This is part of a much larger issue, tackling my inner demons and releasing them.  I don't ever want my daughter to feel fear like I do.
5. Let go of the little stuff.  Yeah, yeah, we all say we need to do this one.  But it would be extremely useful for me to enact this one immediately!  I can't even tell you how many time I've let my in-laws irritate me!  Why?  I just need to let it go.
6. Get in shape and be healthy.  Ugh.  So cliché.  I am standing up in a wedding in less than a month and do NOT want to still look postpartum.  This is serious.  The other day a friend joked that I looked like a certain famous actress "if she'd had a baby."  It still stings.
7. Learn to crochet.  How many of my lists has this been on?  But I just discovered that a nearby fabric store regularly holds beginners' crochet classes! I just need some free time and a willing babysitter...
8. Spend less time in front of a screen and more time outdoors or in a stimulating learning environment like a museum.  Unless, of course, I'm writing, working, or taking an online class.

That's a rough idea of what I want my 2013 to look like.  What are your resolutions for the New Year?  May we be successful in all our well-intended endeavors!