Aptly Named

Since I haven’t posted anything on here since March, and it is now May, it might be obvious that I was thinking of abandoning my dear Fumbling. Indeed, I did abandon it, and you all (all 3 of you who actually read it), until now. What can I say for myself?

I was fumbling.

Fumbling around trying to just hang on with everything going on - finished up my student teaching and began staying at home with Mr. E. I had high hopes that I would post even more often once that change occurred, picturing myself cozily seated on the couch with Skeeter while the little lad slept the day through.

(All you stay-at-home moms can commence hysterical laughter now).

Uh, I was kinda busy. Like, CONSTANTLY busy and when he slept I GOT STUFF DONE because when he was awake he required ALL OF MY BEING. When I had a brake, I sat and gazed at the computer screen or TV.

Uh, I watch A LOT of TV now.

(All you stay-at-home-moms can commence your enthusiastic “uh-huhs” now).

Then, well, I just felt drained with the blog thing. Believe it or not, my life just felt too full to add blogging to it. Well, I guess that’s not quite true, since I’ve become somewhat of a F*ace*book addict, but I digress…

So, then came the BIG MOVE, which JUST HAD to occur right after my mom visited, which JUST HAD to occur right after her first chemo treatment, which she got sick from during her visit. In the midst of all our belongings packed up in boxes throughout the house. I thought she’d be there to help take care of Mr. E while we finished packing. Instead I had to take care of her. A lot. As in, had to drive to Maine to bring her home because she was sick. The DAY BEFORE our move.

We were both in a sh*tload of denial about that one.

So I was leaving a place I love, being a reluctant stay-at-home mom (more on that later I suppose), getting ready to give up having our own place, and dealing with my sick mom, who couldn’t even hold her grandson during her visit. It was all I could do to cope day-to-day and get everything done, and when I’m stressed like that I usually turn inward instead of outward.

I’m learning I need not to do this.

Same thing has been happening the past few days. We moved, and it was completely exhausting and stressful beyond belief, and until I started my summer job I was having a rough time with the lack of structure. Once I started having a place to go that was JUST MINE, even if it meant grilling up steak and cheeses, it was something. But the deli is VERY cliquish, with my co-workers 20 years older than me and native Cape Codders, and think nothing of making gay jokes right in front of me. They’ve never known anything different. They talk openly about going out on Saturdays together dancing at the local bar, without a thought to ask me (I wouldn’t go anyway). But we are of two different species: me, just washed ashore, young, queer, with my M.Ed and this deli gig just a stop on the way. Them: this is their life, period.

I just really, really want to teach.

I know it’s early, and I know it’ll happen for me eventually. But last night the faces of my kids from student teaching flashed before my eyes and I just cried. I miss them. I miss doing what I love. I CAN’T WAIT to do what I love. Sometimes it’s just hard.

Getting used to life in our new community has been both exciting and frustrating. It’s gorgeous here - things are blooming, and I LOVE our church. Even before we moved here I claimed it as my/our place to connect with this community and make our own friends. E. has lots of family, and her family has lots of friends, but as for us having our OWN friends, it comes down to nil. I thought the church community would be a great way to meet people. Last week we officially joined.

So did my mother-in-law.

Ok, I’ve REALLY tried to be open-minded and understanding about this. Obviously anyone can join or attend whatever church they wish. But I started attending this church last fall, and felt at home there. She recently learned we were joining, and wanted to join too. I think she likes it ok, but has attended just a couple of times. Let me explain. She’s the type of person that likes to join ANYTHING. There’s a famous family story that she once saw a huge line somewhere and got in it just to see what all the fuss was about. In short, she’s a JOINER.

Whatever. I can still make my own friends and get involved in my own way. But put all these things together, and I’ve been feeling a bit down lately. I found myself turning inward again, not wanting to deal with anyone, even E. Thankfully, my wife is quite observant and patient, and made me talk about it. I felt so much better. We decided that since we live with her parents, and don’t really have our own social network yet, we really have to make time for just us - either the three of us, or the two of us. I think that will really make a difference. I’m realizing I need to talk things out with her instead of retreating.

I’m also remembering I don’t do well with big transitions.

A similar experience happened when we moved to the Valley. I think I was mildly depressed for months (might have had to do with the fact that we were completely broke as well). But I’m just a stable gal - I like knowing what’s ahead - a loooong way ahead: where we live, where I work, etc. Being with E. has helped me relax a bit in this area in very healthy ways, but to some extent it’s just the way I am.

So perhaps this transition will be hard for me for some time. I think blogging about it might help, too.

Thanks for reading, whoever you 3 readers are.

Meme

Tagged from E, here is my list of things to get done this week (I did 7, not 5, because I can’t stand lists that aren’t complete…)

1. Start applying to substitute teach in towns on the Cape (to be ready to start when we move)

2. Get a haircut (excruciatingly overdue)

3. Return The Amber Spyglass to the library; pick up Animal Dreams

4. Swipe a bazillion free papers from various locations to start packing fragile items

5. Replace front headlight and rear windshield wiper on my car

6. Create a paper chain to countdown until our move, writing a reason why I hate this place on each chain (thought of this last night while we couldn’t sleep while a raging party went on next door)

7. Write a blog post of substance very soon.

Meme Rules:

Step 1. Reference back to the blog that sent you.
Step 2. Make a list of 5 things that you have to get done this week, no matter how small.
Step 3. Get 2 other people off their asses to get their shit in order.

I tag  My Lesbian Life and Our Incredible True Adventures.

Things I learned at 1am

It’s official: I’ve entered into the land of insomnia. There’s no denying it anymore. With my acceptance of this horrible condition comes some ponderings:

1. As I’ve gotten older, I mind less and less being awake in the middle of the night. This has been multiplied tenfold by the fact that I now have an infant. I fear this does not bode well to trying to deal with insomia.

2. Since I do have an infant, and we now go to bed shortly after 8pm, waking up at 12:30am and turning on the TV to find my favorite shows (Conan, how I’ve missed thee!) makes me dreamingly remember my college days and makes me feel REALLY F-ING OLD.

3. Speaking of TV, some damn good television is on waaaay after I go to bed. For real. Why can’t the funniest, wackiest shows be on at say, 7pm? Hmmm, perhaps there is a correlation between hilarious, drug-referencing, outwardly-liberal late-night shows and the drunk, stoned college kids who make up most of their audience.

I used to be one of them.

So, to sum up, the lesson of tonight (er, this morning) is that not sleeping makes me nostalgic for college and gives me a renewed respect for Conan O’brien and Steve Colbert. I suppose it could be worse.

Now back to the show…

ETA: The quality of late-night TV severely plummets after 2am.  Grrr……..

Counting Sheep

It appears in the last couple of days I’ve had a touch of the Insomnia.  Mr. E. wakes me up, then I can’t get back to sleep for like HOURS.

I’m tired.

But sleep does not come.

Instead my mind races with a million different thoughts from what time we have to leave the next day to drop off the car for an oil change, to how in the world we’re going to manage to get Mr. E out of our bed someday.

But mostly I’ve been thinking about this: my mom has breast cancer.

I posted recently about how she had a scare a couple weeks ago - had a lump but Dr. said it wasn’t cancer - but somehow now they know that it is.  She is having another surgery this coming Thursday, then will find out how much/if it has spread, and plans for chemo and radiation.  When she called me she was completely devestated, since she was told she was in the clear before.  It’s also such hard news to hear since my Aunt just passed away from breast cancer last fall, and my mom is not that much older than her.

When my Aunt passed away, I posted about my relationship with cancer, so I won’t repeat it here.  What makes me the saddest is that when hearing my mom’s news, I felt a familiar defeat to such a pervasive disease.  I was in shock for a few days, now I think I’ve hit the anger stage.  I know I have not fully accepted it, and I keep trying to think about E’s aunt as an example of the possibility of living with cancer instead of dying from it.

We planned a trip for two weekends from now to visit my parents, and that also keeps me going - I really need to be with my mom right now.  I know she’s shocked and terrified, and I want to comfort her as much as I can.

2008 brought us our wonderful Mr. E, but so far the rest has been really. damn. hard.

My Little Valentines

Remember passing out valentines in elementary school?  Either you made them, or bought the Looney Toon-or-Barbie or-whatever-was-popular-themed cards and passed them out to everyone in your class?  And remember decorating your paper bag with pride, the tiny post office that would receive all your glorious goodies?

This was my day today.

How fun it was to cut out little pieces of construction paper and address them to all my students, including a little note of what I love about each of them (done during yesterday’s snow day!).  The excitement was almost unbearable all day - while the unopened valentines sat on top of the bookshelf, and my heart-shaped cake sat in its box while we had to create polygons during math and work on our nonfiction-reading skills during reading.  Of course everyone just wanted to get to the valentines - even us teachers.  Finally, at 2:00, the main event began, and everyone ran around the room in a furry to pass out their cards and candy and chocolate, the ELL kids stopping me often to ask where their classmates sat, because they were still not familiar with their names.  I got back to my seat the the front of the table, and while eating my pink-frosted cupcake, opened my bag of valentines, and marveled at the artistic talent and thought that went into these cards (I even got a heart full of Russell Stovers - score!).

When I was this age, I seem to remember the passing out of valentines heavily laden with the romantic overtones that only a 4th grader could dream up - and it was completely stressful.  I was so impressed at how my teacher handled this event today in a year where these students are for sure still kids, but on the verge of being something a bit more: she wrote home that the rule was the students had to bring valentines for everyone, and made the theme be about friendship.  I loved that.  And it worked so well.

E. and I are celebrating V-day like we always do - by doing absolutely nothing out of the ordinary.  Boycotting both the over-consumerist and overly-heterosexist nature of it all, with a dash of disdain for Hallmark essentially telling us exactly when to be romantic, we always decide to stick to our wedding anniversary as an extra-special occasion to celebrate US.  We do just fine without Hallmark and chocolate and jewlery stores, thank you very much.

But I dare say the excitement of celebrating V-day in 4th grade style completely made my day in a way I had no idea it would.  The surprises and  joys of working with kids never ceases to amaze me.

Hope yours was just as wonderful.

Touchy-Feely

I’ve been a bit overwhelmed and busy lately.  More than anything, I’ve been feeling a lot of different things, including:

• completely overwhelmed at what I need to accomplish during my student teaching
• exhausted from sleepless nights, coupled with teaching all day
• a deep sadness at the loss of Emmy Lou - more than I ever thought I’d feel
• sheer awe and humility at the intelligence, resilience, cleverness, affection, and persistence shown by 4th graders
• appreciation and excitement that I get this time solely dedicated to learning how to be a teacher
• profound wonderment that I had such a hard time deciding which Democratic candidate to vote for, and still in utter shock of the loss of feeling like I’m voting for the lesser of two evils (or, my favorite twist: the evil of two lessers), and instead feeling completely satisfied if either of the two front-runners get the nomination
• a deepended love and appreication for E., who cares for Mr. E. all day and night, crafts diaper liners and homemade wipes, manages so many household importances, and does it all with such grace and without any complaint
• complete relief and thankful that my mom, who is getting a lump removed from her breast, is ok and without a cancer diagnosis
• completely in love with Mr. E., who stays on my mind all day, and is the first thing I want to see when I wake up, and when I walk in the door after a long day, and whose skin I’ll never tire of kissing

A Haiku for Lou

my very first pet

orange, mellow, handsome cat;

I’ll miss you so much

The Babymoon is Over

I’m going back to work (student teaching) tomorrow - I can’t believe it. It’s been so great to be at home with E. and Mr. E. - spending so much uninterrupted time together getting to know him, giving him baths, and taking copious amounts of pictures of him, of course. It’s also been good that we’ve taken him out of the house together - to get the routine down enough so that we can manage it on our own in the future when we need to. I am excited to get back to the students, but I know it will be hard to leave my little guy.

E. asked me the other night if I was going to post about the birth from my point of view. I said I didn’t think I would. I feel like E. gave a very thorough account of what happened, and I was right there with her through every bit of it. The hardest part of it all was watching her in so much pain for so long, and that coupled with no sleep left my nerves shot by the early morning on the day he was born. But I learned, as these kind of experiences often teach us, how amazingly equipped our bodies, minds and spirits are to take on such extreme circumstances, and when my perfect boy was born I forgot about all of it. The other hard part was sleeping in a hospital for 3 nights, and I thought I might just lose it when they started threatening a 4th because of his jaundice. Thank goodness we broke out of there!

The best part was the experience of his birth, seeing him come into this world and then being the one to look at him and pronounce “it’s a boy!” Perhaps the most amazing thing I’ve ever experienced.

Almost 2 weeks later, and Mr. E. has seemed to fit seamlessly into our lives. Sometimes he takes up a lot of energy - like when it takes us hours to get out of the house, but sometimes he is just the cartoon baby, plopped right down in front of us, silently sleeping while we carry on with our lives. This is going to be such an interesting journey…

Insomnia

Ok, I don’t really have insomnia, but it’s 4am and I’ve been awake since the last feeding at 1am.  Things that go on that prevent me from sleeping when this happens:

- I get too cold

- I get too hot

- I have to repeatedly scratch an insessant itch on my left shoulder blade

- I have to pee

- I feel like I have no space in the bed

- I need a drink of water

- Every possible sleeping position I try just feels WRONG

- After being awake so long, I’m STARVING

- As I’m finally relaxing, E. starts to snore

Why does this periodically happen?  And the irony is that while I’m tossing and turning, Mr. E.  is snoozing away beside me.  Go figure.

In Awe

It’s hard to describe how it feels the first week you have a new baby - the first week you become a mom. Things so far have been both wonderfully amazing and wonderfully hard. Things that are amazing: his sounds, his eyes, his involuntary half-smiles, times when I catch his eyes and he looks at me for a few seconds like he recognizes me. Things that are hard: dealing with his Jaundice - taking him for bloodwork every morning, becoming swiftly schooled on the difficulties of making medical decisions as a parent, the general worry of parenting a newborn.

I can’t believe he’s been with us a week already. I really don’t know where the time went - first our 3 grueling nights in the hospital, one without him, two with - and then the worry and stress of whether or not we’d be let home because of his Jaundice - it was the best news ever when they said we could go, and we avoided having to put him in the “light box” for who knows how long - and instead they sent us home with a contraption that wraps around his body and has him tethered to the box by a 4-foot hose. It has been hard for us both to see our perfect, sweet boy tied to this machine, and even harder to get the news each day that his count went up, and we can’t take him off yet. A first of many challenges as a parent, I’m sure - but I wasn’t expected it so soon.

ETA: Please, no advice about Jaundice - I’ve talked and read it to death, and at this point just want to focus on talking with our pediatrician on what we need to do. Thanks.