Vivi learned a dirty word recently. Of course, I’m talking about the word “no.”
Honestly, I’m not really certain she knows what it means when she says it. What she does know? That I don’t want her to say it.
Which, naturally, means she has taken to saying it All. The. Time.
The other day, we were out for a run with the jogging stroller and I heard her practicing it over and over again. To herself. Like a sociopath.
The problem is, it’s also kind of hilarious when she does it. Because she doesn’t just say “no.” She pauses for drama…and then she slowly leans into the word.
It’s really, really hard not to laugh. Like, really.
In an effort to, you know, parent, I’ve started responding to her no’s by saying, “You say, ‘okay, Momma‘!”
At which point, she’ll pause, look off to the other side of the room, and go, “…nnnnnnnnn-ah!”
And on and on and on. Such is parenting.
I have found one antidote, and that is getting her to repeat a different word that is equally as fun to say. Lately, I’ve been replying, “You say, ‘yeahyeahyeah!'” And she’s usually only too happy to repeat that one.
I know the day will come when she is deliberately obstinate and intentionally asserts her own opinions. Heck, that could be exactly what she’s doing right now. I just really thought the Terrible Twos would come, you know, when she was two.
For now, though, I think we can chalk this one up to a bit of baby silliness. Right? Okay, Momma. Okay.
I think it’s pretty universally agreed upon that small talk is lame. Right? I mean, do you know anyone who actually enjoys talking about the weather or how “fine” work is?
No. Unless they are a sociopath.
I, for one, would much rather talk about the nitty-gritty of whatever I’m going through. Honestly, unless it’s something about my marriage or you are my boss and I am thinking of quitting, I will tell you all the details of “what’s new” if you really want to hear it.
The thing is…I’m pretty sure my nitty-gritty has even crossed over into mindless listening territory.
You know what’s really interesting and pressing in my life right now? How many times Vivi woke up last night. (Once, around 5 a.m., but then she woke up for real at 6 a.m., which is about an hour earlier than I would like and than she has been waking up lately, which makes me wonder if it’s that she’s teething or if she can hear our neighbor or if that congested cough she started doing a couple of days is something to worry about and OH MY GOD YOU’RE ASLEEP RIGHT NOW, AREN’T YOU?!)
The fact is, while I LOVE motherhood and could actually discuss all the new foods Vivi tried in the last week (shrimp, risotto, chocolate chip cookie) for probably hours, I am not an un-self-aware person. And I can feel your eyes glazing over from here.
So, naturally, the solution here is to talk about more interesting things, right?
Except…um, you do realize that this whole motherhood thing is a full-time job? My day literally revolves around this tiny, big-eyed person, which means I don’t exactly have a lot of time for hobbies.
I don’t have a solution for this. This is more of a request: If you aren’t interested in the kid thing, bear with me. I’m sure the day will come when I have time to do more for myself. And we can talk all about it then.
Sometimes I feel like my stuff is closing in on me.
I mean, that probably sounds dramatic. The stuff is probably minding its own business. But even knowing that it’s there is enough to throw me sometimes.
If you’ve been around this blog for a minute, you probably know that purging my stuff is practically an annual ritual for me. With the baby, though, I found I was too busy over the last year to do much heavy tidying. So, instead of spring cleaning, I’m hoping to clear out some space in time for fall and winter. (Because Lord knows I spend too much time inside during the winter to feel claustrophobic.)
While I rarely struggle with the actual letting go of stuff, I find the hardest part when living in New York City (without a car during the week) is getting the stuff out of my apartment. It tends to sit in bags and boxes, creating even more clutter, for weeks before I find a way to get it to Goodwill. This time around, I’m going to try to avoid that. I want to plan another clothing swap with some girlfriends. I’ll bribe friends with cars into making a drop-off. I’ll throw things away if I can’t give them away.
The point is, the stuff has got to go. Here’s to a more simplified end-of-the-year.
I’ve had a cellular telephone since I was 15. For those of you keeping score at home, that’s almost 14 years of wedded mobile bliss.
And while I’ve never been what I would call tech-obsessed, I had a pretty good track record with my phones. I’ve never lost a phone. I’ve never damaged a phone beyond the usual scuffs. And nary a cracked screen has tarnished my record of smart phone ownership.
Until this week.
My mom had been in town, and she, Vivian, and I were returning from lunch. Viv had fallen asleep in the stroller, so my mom offered to keep pushing her for a few more minutes while I ran home to do some work. I left her the diaper bag (just in case) but grabbed my keys and tucked my iPhone in my back pocket.
Those words will echo hauntingly in your ears until the end of this post. (OR BEYOND.)
Like most moms of babies, I also had been waiting a while to be able to use the bathroom. So before I started my work, I decided to take care of that little bit of business. As one does, I de-pants’d and was about to take a seat when I heard what sounded like something falling off of our over-the-toilet shelf and falling on the ground. (There was no splash. I always assumed there would be a splash when something fell into the toilet. Either this is not true, or my phone is heading to Rio this year with the U.S Olympic diving team. AND IT’S GONNA WIN.)
You guys. I almost just ignored the sound and proceeded accordingly. CAN YOU IMAGINE?
But, by the grace of the Apple gods, I did decide to see what had fallen. I had completely forgotten my phone was even in my pocket, so you can imagine my surprise when I looked down and saw it chilling in the murky depths.
My heart in my throat, I grabbed it without even thinking and started drying it off with toilet paper. And here’s where I made a mistake: I started using it to see if it still worked.
Apparently, according to the Internet, you should just turn your phone off completely to keep the circuits from frying. Alas, my perfect record of smart phone ownership had not yet taught me this life lesson. So I clicked around, feeling incredibly relieved that I was still able to access everything normally.
And then the screen went a weird shade of pixelated gray before the phone died completely.
Fortunately, I am not a total idiot and had at least heard of the ol’ phone-in-rice trick. I removed the case and stuck mine in a bowl of long grains while I waited for my mom to get home. My research (read: Google-ing) also told me to just leave the phone untouched in the rice for at least 24 hours, so I knew I had some time to kill before our fate was sealed.
Going 24 hours without a phone is an almost unheard of feat these days. (Unless you’re one of those people doing it on purpose to prove something. I don’t have that kind of time.) In general, I like to think that I’m pretty good at putting my phone away during the times when I want to be fully present and I don’t consider myself addicted to technology. Even so, I was pleasantly surprised to discover that I didn’t feel like I had lost an arm or anything leaving the house without a phone.
What I did notice? Daaaaaaaaang, my phone makes my life more convenient.
For one, I store everything on that sucker. From photos to lists of hashtags for clients to time logs, virtually everything of any importance is on my phone because I just know I’ll always have it on me. For another, I guess I just forgot how much more work it used to be to get anything done. With my phone, Vivi can fall asleep on me on the couch and I can still get 30 minutes of work done (albeit one-handed). Without a phone, all I could do was stare longingly at the computer across the room and make mental lists of everything I needed to do when she went to bed that night. Plus, have you ever tried making plans without a cell phone? I had three separate plans that day, and two of them had to be canceled because the back-and-forth communication was just impossible. Not great.
Not to mention the fact that, well, I like to take a lot of pictures of Vivi during the day. (I’ll give you a second to recover from the shock of that statement.) I send them to her family and to Joey so they all feel connected and don’t miss anything of importance. I literally spent most of the day hoping she didn’t hit any milestones because I knew Joey would be so bummed to miss them completely.
So there were a lot of ramifications. But also…there were some good things too.
For one, it’s easy to get tied up in my phone, doing work or just goofing around, even when Vivi and I are hanging out. I don’t think I need to spend every second hanging over her obsessing about what she’s doing (girl needs some room to chill with her toys)(I’m always in the room, don’t freak out), but not having a phone removed the temptation to waste any of our time together. And not worrying about taking photos or videos of her silly antics actually let me enjoy them a little bit more.
I’m happy to report that after almost 36 hours in rice, the phone turned back on. So far, things seem to be running fairly smoothly (and, at the very least, I was able to back up the phone in case it needs replacing after all). Although my research did also inform me that there are numerous documented cases of a phone surviving a swim and then, months later, spontaneously overheating and dying. So time shall tell.
What have I learned? (Besides to NEVER FORGET YOUR PHONE IS IN YOUR BACK POCKET EVER.) Well, I’m still not addicted, and I’m still not one of those people who is going to eschew this brilliant little piece of technology just to prove a point. Mostly I’m just happy I don’t have to pay for a new phone. And I’m okay with that happy medium.
Plus, I also know exactly what to do if you drop your phone in the toilet. These are life skills, people.
I should clarify that this post does not officially count in “The New Plans for the Blog,” but I wanted to pop back in to say a few things.
For one, you guys. You’re great. I got a lot of nice comments and feedback from people who, apparently, like what I do on here even when I don’t. That was really nice to hear. Blogging is like throwing your thoughts into outer space sometimes, and anyone who has spent a lot of time talking to no one knows how disheartening speaking into a vacuum can be. You guys should really feel comfortable commenting whenever you want — I promise, I’m nice!
For another, I just wanted to let you know that I’m actually making good on my plans so far. Over the last two days, I’ve been compiling a list of posts I want to write in the next few months. Can you believe that? By dedicating an hour or so, I was able to plan out content for weeks at a time. I have no idea why I never did this before.
Oh, right, because I’m a doofus. Sorry about that.
I also decided that, in addition to improving the writing, I want to up my photography game as much as I can. I am by no means a professional photographer, but Joey has gotten me a really nice camera and a couple good lenses for our last couple anniversaries, and, gosh darn it, it’s time to put them to good use. So get ready for PHOTOS!
Anyway, there’s no need to get long-winded here. I just wanted to say, stay tuned!
That’s a question I ask myself a lot about this ol’ blog these days.
Are you ready for a mind-boggling fact? I’ve been writing this blog for seven and a half years. I didn’t even realize that until I went to check the starting year so I could tell you how long I’ve been writing it. Isn’t that insane?
To put it in perspective, I’ve been a month for seven months. The longest I’ve ever held a single job was a little over two years. The longest romantic relationship I’ve ever had (hey, babe) has been seven years. The longest I’ve ever lived the same residence was about nine years.
This blog is one of the biggest commitments of my life.
And yet…lately, my life has been really busy. I’m raising a baby and working almost every minute of the day, and at night I mostly just want to collapse and do nothing, but I usually have to catch up on work from the day. I’m tired. And more importantly, my brain is tired. It would be so easy to shut down this little site and call it a day.
And yet…I can never pull the trigger. And when I talk to friends who are just beginning to blog or thinking about starting their own, I feel a spark of excitement as I remember what blogging can be. It makes me want to start a blog all over again.
I started this blog out of a weird sense of obligation as a fledgling journalist. I kept it going as a creative outlet when my career wasn’t particularly creative. In a lot of ways, it is my diary, my record of wins, losses, and all the feelings.
The blog has brought me emotional connections with people all around the world, including a few now real-life friends. While it has never been a source of major income for me, it has brought me business connections and opportunities I wouldn’t have otherwise had.
And, to be honest, I don’t want to stop blogging.
I think the struggle I’m having is that I don’t feel like I’m blogging well these days. I have all these ideas of things I want to do, but I’m not making the time or effort to put them into action. And it’s not that I don’t think I have good excuses why it doesn’t happen — I just wonder if I put a little more effort into time management, if maybe, just maybe, I could do it all.
(Welcome to my brain’s constant chorus: I never think I’m doing enough.)
So here’s what I’m thinking: I want to publish three times a week. And to keep myself accountable, I’m assigning a category for each post. And to keep my passion for the post alive, each of those categories will be one of my favorite things:
Post one will be a recipe or DIY, post two will be a product review or style-related (whether personal or home), and the third post will be a story. Because stories are what started this blog, and stories will always be what it’s about. My plan is to start next week.
I’ll be real with you guys, I’m a little nervous to publish this post. I’m nervous to say I’m going to do something when it will be extremely obvious and open if I fail. I hate failing. And I hate failing publicly.
But, you know what? After seven and a half years, I think I still have a few stories left to tell.