No matter how old you are, there's still something nice about going to your parents' house. It doesn't matter that I stay in the generic guestroom, or that all of my childhood belongings have long since been packed up in boxes. There's just something freeing about going home.
In the midst of this hurricane in my life, that's where I've been for the past week. Sheltered, well fed, taken care of.
But real life beckons. Even though this real life I'm returning to isn't that recognizable to me.
First, as you may have gleaned, my home life has been turned upside down. That's really all I'm going to say about that. I'm scared. I'm sad. But I'm hopeful.
Second, in the midst of all this, freelance work has come flooding in. I don't feel like I'm in a position to turn it down. So I guess you could say I'm working part time again, even if it is on my own time and in my own home.
What the fuck, right?
Thursday, February 23, 2012
Monday, February 20, 2012
Silver Linings
In the past week, my life has been turned upside down.
But I'm trying to find solace in the silver linings:
Silver Lining #1 - An Impromptu Trip to Wilmington, North Carolina
... to see my parents. It's hard not to be humbled by the ocean.
And it's hard not to feel happy when I look at this:
Silver Lining #2 - Not Giving a Shit
In my haste in packing, I forgot to pack a hair brush, and a hair dryer. The result? I have not brushed or blown my hair dry in four days (yes, I have showered, I am not that depressed peoples). The result has been a wavy frizzball that I didn't know existed. But you know what? I don't give a shit. And there is something freeing in that. I'm just letting it go. Watch out Wilmington.
Silver Lining #3 - I'm Super Skinny
As I've written about before, when I get stressed, I lose my appetite. Completely. So, those extra few pounds I gained in the Caymans? Gone. And then some. Nothing like a major life crisis to get your body back in shape.
Silver Lining #4 - All of You
I'll be honest. I've gotten word of disapproval from a choice few that I chose to express my discontent on such a public forum. To those people, I am sorry. But come on, you know me. Am I ever one to be silenced?
The support I have gotten in the past few days has been nothing short of incredible. I am so appreciative of the comments, the emails, the phone calls, the texts. When I am having a low moment (and I'm having many of those, unfortunately), I literally scroll through all of the words of support and just reread everything. It gives me a sense of strength. It makes me feel less alone. Thank you.
Silver Lining #5 - I'm Not Sure
For the past 20 minutes, I have been sitting here watching the Bachelor and wracking my brain for another positive out of this whole thing. I can't sincerely think of one right now. I'm sure it's something like a recognition of an inner strength or a life wake up call or some other BS that someday I will believe, but right now I'm just not feeling it. So stay tuned for this one.
But I will say this: At the end of the day, I still believe I am lucky. We are all healthy. We are all here. We will survive. And we will all be happy again. In one way or another.
But I'm trying to find solace in the silver linings:
Silver Lining #1 - An Impromptu Trip to Wilmington, North Carolina
... to see my parents. It's hard not to be humbled by the ocean.
And it's hard not to feel happy when I look at this:
Silver Lining #2 - Not Giving a Shit
In my haste in packing, I forgot to pack a hair brush, and a hair dryer. The result? I have not brushed or blown my hair dry in four days (yes, I have showered, I am not that depressed peoples). The result has been a wavy frizzball that I didn't know existed. But you know what? I don't give a shit. And there is something freeing in that. I'm just letting it go. Watch out Wilmington.
Silver Lining #3 - I'm Super Skinny
As I've written about before, when I get stressed, I lose my appetite. Completely. So, those extra few pounds I gained in the Caymans? Gone. And then some. Nothing like a major life crisis to get your body back in shape.
Silver Lining #4 - All of You
I'll be honest. I've gotten word of disapproval from a choice few that I chose to express my discontent on such a public forum. To those people, I am sorry. But come on, you know me. Am I ever one to be silenced?
The support I have gotten in the past few days has been nothing short of incredible. I am so appreciative of the comments, the emails, the phone calls, the texts. When I am having a low moment (and I'm having many of those, unfortunately), I literally scroll through all of the words of support and just reread everything. It gives me a sense of strength. It makes me feel less alone. Thank you.
Silver Lining #5 - I'm Not Sure
For the past 20 minutes, I have been sitting here watching the Bachelor and wracking my brain for another positive out of this whole thing. I can't sincerely think of one right now. I'm sure it's something like a recognition of an inner strength or a life wake up call or some other BS that someday I will believe, but right now I'm just not feeling it. So stay tuned for this one.
But I will say this: At the end of the day, I still believe I am lucky. We are all healthy. We are all here. We will survive. And we will all be happy again. In one way or another.
Friday, February 17, 2012
A Bomb
A bomb has gone off in my life this week.
I am not ready now, if ever, to write about the nature of this bomb, but suffice it to say that:
It's a really big bomb.
Really big.
It has me teetering on the edge of spiraling back to my post partum insomnia and anxiety - a state that I never thought I would return to again, least of all without said post partum hormones to blame.
It has me questioning everything.
It has me more thankful than ever for my two beautiful boys.
It has me realizing that money and title and vacations and restaurants and losing weight and all of that crap I write about and think about really means nothing.
It has me filled with gratitude for support that has poured in. For friends that have dropped everything without question, for family that is saving the day.
It has me just trying to get through the day. Just get through the day.
I knew a pin was going to drop.
I just had it too good.
I am not ready now, if ever, to write about the nature of this bomb, but suffice it to say that:
It's a really big bomb.
Really big.
It has me teetering on the edge of spiraling back to my post partum insomnia and anxiety - a state that I never thought I would return to again, least of all without said post partum hormones to blame.
It has me questioning everything.
It has me more thankful than ever for my two beautiful boys.
It has me realizing that money and title and vacations and restaurants and losing weight and all of that crap I write about and think about really means nothing.
It has me filled with gratitude for support that has poured in. For friends that have dropped everything without question, for family that is saving the day.
It has me just trying to get through the day. Just get through the day.
I knew a pin was going to drop.
I just had it too good.
Thursday, February 16, 2012
It's not everyday that you pound on your bladder for 20 minutes
In general, I consider myself to be an up for anything, open-minded kind of person. In particular, since leaving my career, I have been committed to trying new things, meeting new people, and being receptive for whatever comes my way. As part of this whole self renewal thing, I have been wanting to start doing yoga again.
Right before I got pregnant with Braden, I was going through a really stressful period in my life (during which time my jaw was locked shut for two months, but that's a whole other story!). I took up yoga, and actually really enjoyed it. After a few months, I ended up on pregnancy bedrest, and my yoga mat has been collecting dust in my closet ever since.
But now? There really is no reason I can't do a yoga class here and there. I've been trying out a couple of different yoga centers in the area, and this weekend, I cashed in a Groupon I had purchased for 10 yoga classes at Dahn Yoga.
As I approached the studio, I noticed that it said on the sign "Yoga and Healing Center." Hmmm, healing center. This should have been my first red flag that this was not going to be your typical cafe latte drinking, Colorado exile yoga crowd, but hey, whatever. I walked into the main reception area, with yoga mat and Groupon coupon in hand.
Right before I got pregnant with Braden, I was going through a really stressful period in my life (during which time my jaw was locked shut for two months, but that's a whole other story!). I took up yoga, and actually really enjoyed it. After a few months, I ended up on pregnancy bedrest, and my yoga mat has been collecting dust in my closet ever since.
But now? There really is no reason I can't do a yoga class here and there. I've been trying out a couple of different yoga centers in the area, and this weekend, I cashed in a Groupon I had purchased for 10 yoga classes at Dahn Yoga.
As I approached the studio, I noticed that it said on the sign "Yoga and Healing Center." Hmmm, healing center. This should have been my first red flag that this was not going to be your typical cafe latte drinking, Colorado exile yoga crowd, but hey, whatever. I walked into the main reception area, with yoga mat and Groupon coupon in hand.
Monday, February 13, 2012
Bah, Humbug!
I've never been a huge fan of Valentine's Day.
The whole thing is just so contrived. The flowers. The set price dinners. The gross Russell Stover chocolates. My husband and I go through the motions and do cards and perhaps a dinner (on a different night, to avoid the aforementioned set price meals). But between wedding anniversaries and dating anniversaries and birthdays and Christian and Jewish holidays, I think we're both kind of over it.
But this Valentine's Day? This Valentine's Day REALLY sucks. For a couple of reasons:
First, I was inspired by some of my fellow bloggers (check out this and this) to do something crafty with Braden for Valentine's Day. Why? I have no idea. We all know I don't have a crafty bone in my body, and by all indications, neither does Braden. But for some reason, when we were at a specialty toy store last week, I thought this might be a good idea.
Over the past few days, I have tried to get Braden excited about it. I've given him full access to the glue stick. I've attempted to entice him with hearts and stickers and a bic pen. But no. Out of 18 Valentine's cards we had to make, do you know how many Braden made?
One.
So what am I doing tonight, on the eve of the sacred preschool Valentine's' Day party?
Making stupid homemade Valentine's Day cards.
And trust me, they ain't pretty.
If I seem overly bitter, it's also because I'll be flying solo on Valentine's Day evening, as my husband must answer to work demands.
Sigh.
At least I can look forward to the Teen Mom 2 finale. It's the little things, you know?
The whole thing is just so contrived. The flowers. The set price dinners. The gross Russell Stover chocolates. My husband and I go through the motions and do cards and perhaps a dinner (on a different night, to avoid the aforementioned set price meals). But between wedding anniversaries and dating anniversaries and birthdays and Christian and Jewish holidays, I think we're both kind of over it.
But this Valentine's Day? This Valentine's Day REALLY sucks. For a couple of reasons:
First, I was inspired by some of my fellow bloggers (check out this and this) to do something crafty with Braden for Valentine's Day. Why? I have no idea. We all know I don't have a crafty bone in my body, and by all indications, neither does Braden. But for some reason, when we were at a specialty toy store last week, I thought this might be a good idea.
Over the past few days, I have tried to get Braden excited about it. I've given him full access to the glue stick. I've attempted to entice him with hearts and stickers and a bic pen. But no. Out of 18 Valentine's cards we had to make, do you know how many Braden made?
One.
So what am I doing tonight, on the eve of the sacred preschool Valentine's' Day party?
Making stupid homemade Valentine's Day cards.
And trust me, they ain't pretty.
If I seem overly bitter, it's also because I'll be flying solo on Valentine's Day evening, as my husband must answer to work demands.
Sigh.
At least I can look forward to the Teen Mom 2 finale. It's the little things, you know?
Friday, February 10, 2012
A Year Out
In the past few weeks, I have picked up some additional freelance work. I love that I am making a bit of extra money, and I especially love that the work doesn't require a law degree. There's just something strangely satisfying about getting paid for work involving no legal skills.
It's been almost one year since I left my job. And the longer I am out of the workforce, the more I am realizing that I may never be a lawyer again.
I don't know what I thought when I quit. I guess part of me always assumed I would go back to a law firm after this little break at home with the kids - as if I was on another leave of absence, or maternity leave. I even found myself researching law firms which did in fact have sabbatical programs for women (Skadden's Sidebar program being one of them), and casually mentioning it to my former supervisors, as if they would form a special program just for me. Ha!
But now, one year out, the idea of going back to a law firm, or even being a practicing lawyer again, is scary as hell to me. When you're in it, you accept it, because it's your life. But having the opportunity to step away - I get anxiety just thinking about it. The pressure, the hours, the politics. I just don't have the energy or the passion for it anymore, and I don't think I ever will again.
So maybe my law career really is over.
It's been almost one year since I left my job. And the longer I am out of the workforce, the more I am realizing that I may never be a lawyer again.
I don't know what I thought when I quit. I guess part of me always assumed I would go back to a law firm after this little break at home with the kids - as if I was on another leave of absence, or maternity leave. I even found myself researching law firms which did in fact have sabbatical programs for women (Skadden's Sidebar program being one of them), and casually mentioning it to my former supervisors, as if they would form a special program just for me. Ha!
But now, one year out, the idea of going back to a law firm, or even being a practicing lawyer again, is scary as hell to me. When you're in it, you accept it, because it's your life. But having the opportunity to step away - I get anxiety just thinking about it. The pressure, the hours, the politics. I just don't have the energy or the passion for it anymore, and I don't think I ever will again.
So maybe my law career really is over.
Tuesday, February 7, 2012
The Era of Casey
For all of Casey's life, he has essentially been a tag along - dragged to his big brother's playdates, to preschool pickups, to parks he was too little to navigate. The poor kid has taken it in stride.
But now? At 15 months, Casey is coming into his own. As of this weekend, his morning naps officially ceased. So on Monday, when my husband left to take Braden to school, we bid them farewell as we usually do and waved until they drove out of sight. And when 9:00 am rolled around, instead of putting him back to bed, we just looked at each other.
Now what do we do?
Casey's lack of morning slumber left us with 4.5 hours to kill.
4.5 hours. That is a long, long time to hang with a wandering 15 month old who is determined to engage in continuous suicide drops from stairs, coffee tables, couches, anything above six inches, etc.
But now? At 15 months, Casey is coming into his own. As of this weekend, his morning naps officially ceased. So on Monday, when my husband left to take Braden to school, we bid them farewell as we usually do and waved until they drove out of sight. And when 9:00 am rolled around, instead of putting him back to bed, we just looked at each other.
Now what do we do?
Casey's lack of morning slumber left us with 4.5 hours to kill.
4.5 hours. That is a long, long time to hang with a wandering 15 month old who is determined to engage in continuous suicide drops from stairs, coffee tables, couches, anything above six inches, etc.
Sunday, February 5, 2012
Bringing Vacation Home
My internal pep talk began on the second to last day of my vacation.
See this, Shannon? See how relaxed you feel? How happy? How at ease? You can carry this on beyond your vacation. You don't have to be depressed about going home. Vacation is a state of mind!
Two days later I was on the plane ride home, with my head between my legs, assuming crash position, during a particularly turbulent patch of clouds. The xanax hadn't worked.
Who am I kidding? I don't want to go home! Get me off of this mother !*?ing plane, and take me back to the Caymans!
And it's been a bit downhill from there.
See this, Shannon? See how relaxed you feel? How happy? How at ease? You can carry this on beyond your vacation. You don't have to be depressed about going home. Vacation is a state of mind!
Two days later I was on the plane ride home, with my head between my legs, assuming crash position, during a particularly turbulent patch of clouds. The xanax hadn't worked.
Who am I kidding? I don't want to go home! Get me off of this mother !*?ing plane, and take me back to the Caymans!
And it's been a bit downhill from there.
Tuesday, January 31, 2012
M.I.A.
You'll have to excuse me if I'm a bit M.I.A. from the blogosphere this week. The thing is, I am SUPER busy.
I'm busy sitting by this:
I'm busy sitting by this:
Friday, January 27, 2012
The Ladies that Lunch
The highlight of my week this week?
Lunch. Yesterday.
It had been planned for over a month. I dropped the kids off at my neighbor's house (who is a saint for taking both of them). I drove downtown BY MYSELF. I arrived early and walked around the block a few times, watching the people in suits and feeling a knee jerk gratification that I wasn't one of them.
Then I went to the venue - Potenza. I had looked up the menu ahead of time, trying to find something to fit within my Weight Watchers diet (which expires tomorrow, hooray!). I decided on a salad, and upon entering the restaurant and catching a lovely aroma of garlic, decided the hell with it. I would order what I wanted.
So how did I end up at this nice venue, sans children, on a Thursday afternoon?
Lunch. Yesterday.
It had been planned for over a month. I dropped the kids off at my neighbor's house (who is a saint for taking both of them). I drove downtown BY MYSELF. I arrived early and walked around the block a few times, watching the people in suits and feeling a knee jerk gratification that I wasn't one of them.
Then I went to the venue - Potenza. I had looked up the menu ahead of time, trying to find something to fit within my Weight Watchers diet (which expires tomorrow, hooray!). I decided on a salad, and upon entering the restaurant and catching a lovely aroma of garlic, decided the hell with it. I would order what I wanted.
So how did I end up at this nice venue, sans children, on a Thursday afternoon?
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