the weight

it's hard to write a paper after having spent the previous night at the ER with your 18 month old for something that turned out to be nothing but was a terrifying something that 2 doctors could not assure you was nothing so herded you to the UMD ER  to see a doctor who is "superb".

it's hard to write a paper for a class when you've been skimming the reading all semester long with your mind on your new job, your burgeoning toddler creature, the photos that you need to have edited for your brand new clients, the bill that you forgot to pay....again..

it's hard to write a paper when all you want to do is curl up in your bed and sleep, because work today was exhausting, and the bedtime routine with your sassy little Isabelie was the cherry on top.. sealed the deal... get me my pajamas pronto she said... and make it snappy... 

it's hard to write a paper when you've been surviving on coffee and adrenaline and cereal... and Airborne... and bananas..

it's hard to write a paper knowing that tomorrow will be just like today, only you will probably be more tired, and more worried about the paper after not having done enough tonight. 

It's hard to feel that life is speeding by.. and I can barely catch my breath... and barely fulfill obligations... Nevermind fulfill them very well.  

paralyzed by the weight of it all.... it's all too easy to freeze. 

And I dyed my hair brown.  

WHY??!!

Which phase of the moon can I blame???  

#woof

XX

Cassie

gray matters

It's a rainy Sunday morning.  Izzy is in bed next to me, making quiet baby babble cooing noises...too early... I know she's not going to fall back to sleep, although I try to will her to do it by closing my eyes and pretending to snore. 
Doesn't work.  
I knew it wouldn't.  
I wonder-- (and on some mornings, seethe, but not this morning) 
Why can't my husband just surprise me and get up with her.  
The level of exhaustion that hits me at various points of the day, it's like a ton of bricks, suffocating, crippling... but not really.  
Because it can be shoved back under, and forgotten, like a postcard under the bed, in a shoebox full of other random memorabilia that doesn't necessarily mean anything but means enough to not throw away... that stuff gathering dust.  
Evidence of a different life & time.  
The corners bending, the print fading, the colors yellowing. 
I wonder if I'll ever feel normal again.  I wonder if everyone feels this way. I wonder if this degree of exhaustion means that I'm old, or depressed, or worse, ungrateful.  
Or maybe just human.

Izzy and I get out of bed and stumble into her room, where it's chilly, and her sound machine is still on.  The whale.  Whale-boy, as my husband and I call it.  
It feels like we're at the bottom of the ocean, the waves echoing and crashing, the room dark, the rain softly hitting the window. I get her dressed and changed.  
She plays on the floor, sometimes crawling over top of me, reaching around my neck for a hug, but almost as soon as she makes it into my lap, she is reaching back down for the floor.  

I lie on the carpet and watch her, sometimes join her.  I wonder how I could've wished to miss this.  How I could've wished that my husband would do this, would have this, would take this, while I sleep it away.  
This is our rainy Sunday morning.  
Izzy is funny, she is sweet, she is the most adorable little creature that I could've ever dreamed up.

I wonder if this is just a haze of new mother lust.  
When will I hit a plateau, and look back on these days like they were the good ones.  
When will I hit that 'senior slide', and feel weathered, bored,  blase, antsy.

Today though, I'm happy to squint through this still-new haze.. Which is equal parts joy - exhaustion - settling hormones (sometimes raging) - shifting identity (sometimes lost) - a full, bursting heart (sometimes lonely and afraid).
So many contradictions.
We're settled in this gray space. 
The in-between.  

I have to go to work this morning.  Because I was out sick for a day, and a half.  
I have to get off of this carpeted ocean floor, leave this baby's soft babbling, and float along, through this city.  To work with people who don't give a sh*t about this ocean floor and this baby and this nest.  

I will soon have to wake up my husband, who will be grouchy and puffy eyed and will shuffle into the kitchen, and demand to know what is in the trash that smells. 
Izzy will yell for him, and do her fastest crawl towards him.  She'll pull up on his legs and reach for him to pick her up.  He'll pick her up and smile and the morning grump will melt.  He'll hug her and kiss her and pull me in.  
I'll try to forget my anger.  I'll try to let it go, and see this moment for what it is.  Then he'll make another grumpy comment.  

I'll leave the house, into the rain, and tell myself not to cry. Hating this morning,   
Hating this city.  
Hating this rain. 

I'll look for our postcard. The one where we have all of the time to spend together, where we can be sick at home when we need it, and travel towards the sun when the rain and the cold gets to be too much.  Where we can sit in the sand and hear the waves crash and recede, and where we can know that everything will be right.
(But even in my gloom and doom mood, I know that everything is right.)
 
I'll sit in my car and hope that an extra hot Starbucks latte will fool me into feeling good about this day. 
It just might.
Or maybe it'll be the sugar in the raw that collects at the bottom of the cup.  

So I'll go. 
And push all of this back underneath the bed.  .  
To gather dust, and be forgotten. 
But not entirely. 
To be left. 
But not completely. 
Maybe tomorrow I'll figure out how to fit all of these pieces together. 


X

Cassie

Answered prayers/// A dead batt

Last night, I had some major Sunday sadness feelings.  This Monday morning would've been Izzy's first day back to daycare in 2 weeks.  It would be the start of our first full work week since before Christmas. After Monday morning, I wouldn't see her awake until Tuesday afternoon.  I've managed to get through these months, sending her off to daycare, by telling myself that we still spend a lot of time together.  I've adjusted my schedule so that I work 4 days a week, 10 hours each of those days.  {6 am to 4 pm most of the days}.  Will calls this my fireman's schedule.  I love it because it give me 3 full days at home.  2 days was just NOT cutting it. So, this is working better.  But those sad feelings still creep out of my subconscious, and invade my days.  I try to ignore them, and push them away, they're always there lurking-- sometimes quieter, sometimes louder..  Like last night.  I started thinking about going back to the cold harsh reality that is my job, and Izzy going back to daycare all by her little self.  Isn't she much too tiny to be sent off to fend for herself?? Are they going to read her a story before naptime like we do?? Are they going to praise her when she pulls herself up on something???? Will they love her enough??

It all just feels lonely and empty and grey and sad and cold.  But then, that's also January embodied.  

I guess you could say I was ruminating.  Stewing.  But I started thinking about how, even if tomorrow, I quit my job and said to hell with these sad, yucky, dumpy feelings, and was able to, from that day on, spend each day with Isabel.... I'd never get these last 5 months backs.  Those 5 months are history.  And all of those little moments that make up each day, those are gone.  Because in a baby's life, in a baby's day, there are these tiny little moments that are the most important ones-- a shared grin, a surprise belly laugh, frustration turned to determination turned to a new skill, those slobbery kisses from out of the blue, the babbling..the sweet touches... her backward glance to make sure you're still there in the room with her.... Missing any of that is heartbreaking.  Heartbroken.

SO that is the path I took last night.

Cold. Sad. Gloom.

I considered calling in sick today.  I prayed that something could change.  Some circumstance, some way for us to shift gears and enjoy more of those little moments together.  

Greedily. 

So I told myself to soldier through and pushed those thoughts back to their depths, so they might surface next Sunday night, or the following. 

And then this day happened.

When I went out to my car in the morning, carrying Izzy in her 80 pound carseat, my car didn't start.

I turned the key, and nothing happened.  No lights, no engine, nothing.  Tried again.  And again. And again. Nothing.  

Never ever have I  been so happy for my car to not start.  

Will was already at work, with important meetings throughout the day.  

So we were stuck.  

So happily stuck.

And it was the best bonus day.  

Someone was listening.

Thank you.  

 :) 

It turned out that my car had a dead battery.  From the cold I think.  

When I texted my mom to tell her that the car had a "dead batt"-- she assumed there was an actual DEAD BAT in the car.  Wouldn't you? 

Her texts were: "don't pick it up!!"  "dangerous!!"  "sanitize!!!!!!"  

Fun.  

XO

Cassie 

Two Faced

{I'm going to try to explain something that is hard to explain. Please excuse and pardon run on sentences, vagueness, and rambling}

I've been having a problem since I've gone back to work, and have had trouble articulating it// to myself and to anyone else. But today I think helped to solidify the root of this problem.  Today, Isabel stayed home sick from daycare.  So naturally, I stayed home with her. 

The problem was, I have very little leave time available because I used up my stash during "maternity leave" {it's really scoffable that we even call it that when so many of us are just using accrued sick and vacation time to create a puny cobbled couple of months leave after giving birth to another human. whoops sorry. I'll try to lay off the italics, and melodrama ;) }. 

 I was worried because later this week, we have an out of town trip planned, so I'll be taking off a day for that// not to mention the holidays which are starting next week//I'll have to take some days for those too......

SO my point is, staying home today was not part of the plan, and even threw a little wrench into the "plan".  Today, Will and I decided that I would stay home for the first half of the day with Izzie, and then he would come home at lunch time so that I could go to work for the rest of the day.

 Problem was, when he got home, leaving Izzie// and our little nest of tissues, pillows, toys, coughs and sneezes was the absolute last thing I wanted to do.{I do not get paid enough to be motivated to leave that nest// that baby}.  I tried to do it though.  I brushed my hair, put on some work pants, and envisioned going there and putting on my work face for 5 hours or so....

 But Isabel had had a rough couple of nights, and this weekend we had learned that when she is touchy and sicky, she wants mom, and has a very hard time being calmed//comforted by dad. {I truly believe that this is related to her being a baby who loves to nurse, and still does// nursing = comfort. period.} 

SO, I sat there and pictured being at work, away from the sick baby nest// and knew that I would be mostly unproductive, distracted and sad.  I also was not so sure that I would actually be able to put on my work face, nor was I sure that I should.  I just knew that I needed to be there for my sicky bebe. 

My "issue" then, is this:  switching from mommy face to work face is hard, and is not seamless.  My brain tries to make the transition, but is often left feeling displaced// while my thoughts wander {sometimes endlessly} at work, to avoid really accepting the transition to work {because what do you do with the mom feelings? stuff them into a pocket for later I guess..?}. 

At home, with an hour and a half in the evenings to: enjoy Izzie, give her dinner, bathe her, and put her to bed// it's really hard to feel like I've been able to switch gears back to mommy mode// and in a way, I think this is an act of self preservation.... because if I were really feeling, absorbing and switching between these roles daily, I would get lost in the middle.  But aren't I already sort of lost in the middle?  Where does my "self" fit into this mess?  {and the mess includes more than being a mother and an employee-- there's being a wife, a daughter, a niece, a friend...} 

A  partial solution would be to make more of an effort to really be in the moment, whatever that moment may be.  {I need to practice my Ommm}  To not allow myself to escape into thoughts or daydreams, and to push myself to be fully present// in my work and at home.  But this also requires carving out some blocks of time that are "escapes", because really, who can be present and giving all of the time?  
It's a delicate balance, I'm finding.. And I'm clearly still looking for the right balance.
I may never find it {that perfect recipe}, and that's ok, but I can move closer towards finding it.
And in the mean time, I will be trying to merge my different faces {or masks?} into one fluid person, so that these transitions might become less transitional {and icky} and more.... smooth.
Peace and Love and Om. 

{By the way, disclaimer: I realize that this issue is not unique to me, nor is it unique to mothers, but I have only just started to notice it and to feel quite annoyed by it.}

Mais Oui

I don't know if it was the rain, or the music on the radio, but this morning I felt like I was playing a part in a French movie { 3 parts sad, 1 part pensive, 2 parts love}.

Just as I got into the car, my phone buzzed with an email.  It was somebody wanting to buy my bookcase {yes! excitement!}// Then I read further// This person wants to buy it so that they can strip the paint and refinish the wood.....Yes, you read that correctly....

But moving on. 

The drive to daycare was particularly gloomy, listening to the classical station {because that will make Izzie smart, non?} // AND it was a Monday morning, which is even more triste than others-- without the heavy gray blanket of Fall clouds, and of course without the arrival of a dream-crushing email { it helps if you let yourself really wallow in the gloom ;) }

Then, just as we pulled up to daycare, the clouds decided to open up and start pouring.  Raining. Heavily.  Buckets. And in those few moments where I sat there in the car, with the music playing, and Isabel in the back seat making her quiet little baby noises... It felt like time stood still for a minute.  I pictured driving off into the sunset, saying bon voyage to you much too hectic city life... But that wouldn't happen, not even in a movie//not even in a French movie. 

So I got myself out of the car {cue the soaking of the clothes & hair }  to carry Izzie in her heavy-as-a-bag-of-bricks carseat // her bag of milk-blankets-bottles// and her ginormous bouncy chair.

The most difficult point of all of this being that moment when Izzie watches me walk out of the daycare room with her big blue eyes.... 

Knowing that I won't see her til midnight {for her late night milk party} is so hard, but knowing that she doesn't know or understand all of this coming and going, is even harder.  The hardest. 

I will become more accustomed to this, and it has already gotten much easier...

We're all okay, and doing what we should be doing....

I think it must've been the rain. 

{Cue the sad music..}

 

XO

Cassie

:

  

Labor Day

 I took Izzie in the pool this weekend and she LOVED it// laughing//babbling//squealing. It was THE. BEST. TIME. EVER. 

 

Summer, please don't go... 

And finally put her tiny Lilly bathing suit to good use.. 

XOXO

Cassie 

Brand new day

 

I'm writing this blog because I have found myself wishing that I could find a "mom blog" that I can relate to (granted, I haven't looked all that hard).... I've come across quite a few blogs lately that are written by women who are able to stay home with their little ones.  As they describe life via blogging, they can spend time shopping (clothes for themselves, clothes for baby, home furnishings, beauty products...), decorating the house//cooking delicious meals// and then documenting in writing and photos all of these mommyish exploits. Now that I am back at work, and filled with so many emotions related to being a "mom who works outside the home", I read these blogs in a new light.  Part of me feels so envious, because I want to do these things// I want to be able to spend actual time shopping and preparing yummy dinners// I want to be able to arrange, clean and organize the house just so// I want to have the luxury of not rushing out of the door in the mornings (usually forgetting something) with a sweet baby (and all of her accoutrements) in tow// the list could really go on and on.  But the number one thing I want, is to be able to spend all of that precious time with my little Isabel.  Going back to work was heartbreaking, and every day, I rush, in hopes that we might make it back earlier this afternoon so that I can have just a few extra minutes with her before she falls asleep. 

I totally get that these women (these "mom bloggers") cannot possibly be leading the life of perfection and happiness that I have gleaned from their blog posts..... But they sure do have a pretty important ingredient that I am missing, along with a lot of other mothers who go back to work out of necessity. Being without the choice of staying home with my tiny, perfect baby felt like a jail sentence (no exaggeration- sorry for the melodrama).  It is a loss of freedom like nothing I have ever felt.  The idea of paying someone else to care for my child, while I work at a job that barely helps us afloat, seemed so, unequivocally wrong, and still does. 

But the point of this blog is not to give myself a forum to sit and complain. My goal is to use this as an outlet, and hopefully to give others an outlet. I know that I would personally love to read another mother's account of raising a child while working outside the house, because it always makes me feel better to know that I'm not alone in this struggle (duh). There is something so cathartic in being able to relate to others (duh)......

Soo that's my beginning here. 

I also have a feeling that no one will read this, and it will end up being my own personal diary.  But that's helpful too :) And fun.

xo

Cassie