Tuesday, April 12, 2011

Incredibly dull and boring.

Yesterday was the first time I didn’t end up running away.

The hours were folding fast into the time of day I refer to as the “Exhaustion Overload” period, somewhere between the deadly hours of 4-7 PM. You know, the time of day when all hell seemingly breaks loose after already an accidentally full schedule jam-packed with fussing babies, email server errors, the odd telephone spat here and there with Significant Other over things I don’t quite recall anymore. And then there’s the dinner I need to have hot and piping on the table timed exactly so when Significant Other walks through the door of our apartment at 5 (give or take 15 minutes), he feels “taken care of by his sweetheart,” as his father likes to remind me to do.

It’s the time of day when my nerves are so shot the smallest road bump manifests into a semi-crisis, the time of day when if anyone gets in the way of my survival-mode mentality, I spiral out of control into a crazy shadow of the woman I’d hope to be for Patrick, not the person I so easily become during EO period.

Around 7-9 PM, things usually find a way of miraculously self-resolving, and it’s a beautiful thing since it coincides with some of my favorite television programming. My eyeballs retract back into their sockets, my muscles relax a bit, and if the stars are really aligned, I might even locate an opened bottle of red wine with exactly 6 ounces left in it. Life’s pretty good around now.

And then comes the Incredibly Dull and Boring, the limbo hours before bedtime when I often find myself slowly—perhaps even aimlessly—picking up the pieces of another day I somehow managed to get through. ID&B involves dirty dishes, paperwork, painstakingly collecting breadcrumbs on the carpet my dear baby likes to leave behind for me…and my mind naturally escapes into a parallel fantasy life.

A fantasy life of exotic residences, paparazzi, and maybe a pair of Christian Louboutins because I’m really dreaming big now, folks. But the gentle clamor of pots soaking in the sink interrupts my trip down La La Land and I downsize to a cozy cottage next door to my parents’ house in Northern California. It would be so nice to be anywhere but here, I think selfishly but not without guilt. King tugs at my oversized sweatpants (I’m truly rocking SEXY these days) and something deep down inside of me knows I CAN’T be anywhere else but here.

I want to escape because don’t we all once in a while? During the Incredibly Dull and Boring my mind races with alternate endings, with a life I could be living if I chose A instead of B or followed through with XY&Z but don’t run away now, Missy. Just live, relish, enjoy, and STAY.

Sometimes to get somewhere you simply have to stay put.


Wednesday, April 6, 2011

I’m afraid of my blog.

I truly am. Really.

It’s sort of like having an intimate relationship fall apart suddenly for ambiguous reasons. And then you spend the next couple of months tiptoeing around each other afraid to make the first move lest you delve into a conversation you don’t know how to start. Or end.

I liken my blog to said friend who’s been left high and dry these past few months and I often find myself “afraid” to log in or emotionally unavailable to write and post pictures. But I think about Blog every day, wonder what Blog is up to, how Blog’s managing on his own in Internet-sphere.

You see, Blog came to me one night as I was feeling sorry for myself after being laid off by my company the day I returned to work from maternity leave. Overnight, I became a housewife and stay-at-home mom not because I chose to be those things but because I had no other choice. I was hurt, sad, angry, lost, but one look into my new baby’s eyes and I promised myself I would make the most of my time at home with him. I set out to document the lull of days spent in Mommydom and hoped in doing so, I could find some peace and beauty in a lifestyle I never knew I would or could have.

So have I reached Mommy nirvana some 11 months later? As with all things, the answer is gray and somewhere in the middle which is why it’s been much harder for me to express myself with Blog as of late. Because I am no longer that reluctant and throw fewer pity parties for myself when I miss out on a wild and crazy night out on the town with fellow 20-somethings. Because I no longer feel like I am missing out.

Thank you, readers, for being there and offering so much support and inspiration. I know I’ve gone from almost daily updates to weeks without so much a peep. I’m happiest when I write everyday and have some sort of human contact with the world that is swirling fast around me. And you offer that to me.

Blog, I’m afraid of you because I don’t know what to say. I can’t be honest when right now I don’t know exactly how I feel about things in my life or what can transpire from this adventure I’ve set out with you. Please pardon a few more months of reckless intermittence.


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