Last week a lovely lady at work mentioned that she read my blog. She said, “You’re like a modern day Carrie Bradshaw!” And I spent the rest of the day marveling at Carrie no longer being considered “modern”… Also, this summer is my 10-year high school reunion. TEN YEARS. Somehow these things are connected.
When Kamel is not at home being dad-extraordinaire, like he is for the month of May, he works about 15 minutes from where we live. He can come home for lunch if he wants to, but if he doesn’t he is away from the house for about 9 hours, maybe less. With my commute and work schedule I am gone from the house for a minimum of 11 hours. That is a huge chunk of the day. I noticed this because on the good days I am only home long enough to scarf down some dinner, snuggle baby for an hour, and then catch the sleep wave when Gabe goes down. I still haven’t seen this week’s Game of Thrones. I am writing this blog at 5:00am. I still haven’t figured out a good routine to get back to writing stories and books. I’ll figure it out, but man I wish there were more hours in the day. I wouldn’t even spend them on sleep, just on life.
When I was on maternity leave I did not have a work out schedule, per se. If I had a minute I would do a proper workout involving squats and such, but mostly I pushed the stroller and paced the floor and took 587982783 walks. This week I am back to figuring out a workout schedule. Yesterday I was super super sore. In about 20 minutes I’ll be trying to achieve that same level of ouch. Why/ Because needing assistance to sit on the toilet is awesome! No it isn’t. The real dilemma is that my butt has fallen and it needs help getting back up again. Squats and lunches and pushups and jumping jacks and kickboxing 4 life.
Yesterday Claire and I were discussing mental health days from work and how advocating your our own health and happiness is so important. I feel like there is a societal push for people to expect other people to 1) be responsible for the success of their own happiness, and 2) know you so well that any injuries to your feelings, your nuanced sensibilities, etc would be avoided and that you should be protected by others. I think this is sold to women especially under the guise of “True Love” via movies and fairy tales. Even when you are married, even when you have children, you still have to advocate for your own happiness, your own peace of mind. Loving someone and being responsible for all of their ins and outs, ups and downs, successes and failures is not the same thing. Only you can prevent forest fires.
Work has been very busy lately, and home has been very busy lately, and I haven’t had the time to reply to many (or any) of your comments. But I promise I read them and I promise I will respond to some of them when I can. Sorry for being lame. Do know that I have created many, many responses in my head. It’s actually one of my biggest flaws – I read something (an email, comment, what have you) and thing my response so loudly inside my own head that sometimes I forget that I haven’t actually sent it to the person. When I was a kid I would get so engrossed in a book or a show on TV I would sometimes ask my parents, “Did I just say something out loud?” because I couldn’t remember if I had shared what I was thinking or just thought my thought really really loudly.
Oh! One last thing! I finally cleaned up my iPod and added a few new albums, deleted a bunch I never want to hear again, etc etc. And this has made office life SO much better! I actually gave myself a little thrill just now thinking about getting back to my desk and my tunes. Hashtag little things.