Housework days two & two point five
I am finding tracking the housecleaning a bit tricky because one of the skills we’ve acquired (striven to acquire, actually) is just to do tiny bits of things as we go along, so wipe down the front hall tiles where the shoes track in with the damp cloth we’re holding from wiping down the highchair… just before it gets tossed in the wash that’s about to go in the machine. I mean how do you count that; it takes literally 45 seconds? And the floor doesn’t totally count as “clean” - I mean it’s just those 8 tiles - and yet it means mopping it the next day takes a lot less time ’cause the dirt hasn’t built up.
I have more thoughts on class and cleaning and homes and things but I will save them for the end of the week’s experiment.
Yesterday was pretty simple:
Bathroom wipe-down - 5 min
Laundry - maybe 20 min total
Tidying - 15 min
Kitchen clean-up - 20 min
Cat box (Carl!) - 20 min
And cooking: 25 min
… mostly because we were out for the lion’s share of the day. It was gorgeous out so I walked a ways, got on the bus to RT and went up to STC (the mall). Then got off the bus early on the way back and walked some more. At the mall I met up (by coincidence, not planning) with one of the mums from our group, got some waxing done, shopped a bit for baking ingredients, and breastfed twice. Errands (waxing and ingredients) that used to take an hour took 5! But it was fun. Noah went /crazy/ at the parakeets at the pet store so that took a good 20 minutes… twice, since we passed them on the way to the BF lounge. And I treated myself to lunch (salad with chicken breast). So no cleanup there.
I felt for the first time like Scarborough might be my town, as I met up with people I knew accidentally. Scary!
The bus ride was not good. I’m a huge supporter of public transit: I think it’s important for so many reasons - to get people to their jobs, to give people independence, to address environmental concerns, etc. etc. Also, I grew up in Toronto and used to take the bus + streetcar home on my own starting in grade one, and having that freedom my whole life - to go more or less anywhere I wanted to go for (now) $2.-whatever it is (but as a kid it was 10 cents) has made me a more exploratory sort of person, I think.
But yesterday I had the stroller on the bus and it got crowded. I don’t like travelling with the stroller when it’s crowded because I feel bad, although I think that really society can handle (and should handle) the inconvenience of slow elderly people, bulky toddler and mum people, and all those kinds of things - it’s just part of living interdependently. But emotionally I have that urban dweller’s sense of taking up too much space and I don’t like it.
So one woman was standing on one side of the stroller and a man pushed past her and past the stroller. And she just flipped out and asked him if he was going to say “excuse me” and it just escalated and escalated until they were threatening each other physically - with my stroller, and Noah, in the middle. I put my arm over the stroller and then basically got in the middle, and I could feel my body just getting pumped with adrenaline, more than I have experienced in most cases I felt threatened myself. I was seeing things ultra-clearly and my hearing was focused - you know the kind of thing that feels a bit like time slowing down (well my heart was racing too). Then the guy backed down, and the woman hauled off - and hit my stoller. The way people punch a wall when they’re upset.
The stroller with my baby in it.
I had a really hard time not doing something I would regret. What I did do (this must have been training from when I worked at the NGO kicking in, or else someone more sensible than I in the system, because what I was thinking was “DIE you bitch”) was made eye contact with the err, woman, and I said very. slowly. “You must be having a very bad day” (implication: to hit a fucking stroller. She said “yeah” and I said “I’m sorry to hear that.” And then she took a half step back out of my babyspace.
Thank god.
The whole thing made me shake after (adrenaline too I think) and I admit, that my middle class environment destroying thought was: thank god I’m getting the car Monday at the latest.
Of course the whole rest of the transit experience was fine, and people were really nice. Our transit system is not fully wheelchair accessible, but a lot of it is - it’s all elevators, etc., all the way to the mall - and now that I don’t have to worry so much about the cold while waiting for a bus, it’s really nice to use. Except for the loonies.
Today it’s 1 pm and I’ve already done loads of housework and had visitors (the two were related somewhat since I didn’t get much done yesterday) and now I’m finishing off this article as Noah naps, and then we’re out for a walk again as once again it’s gorgeous. Hopefully tonight Mags’ll have some time to finish the story we’re possibly taking to the Anne Bishop workshop next weekend. Still haven’t decided, and registration’s first come first serve which is driving me a little nuts… I hate that, the assumption that you’re at the con so what do you care, when we’re not at the con all weekend and could use helpful things like, oh, schedules. Rant over.
I really miss Idaho ppl when they are away. That’s not a whine, just a statement.
So the housework so far today, and likely the bulk of it other than kitchen, laundry, and maybe some garden cleanup:
Bathroom actual cleaning - 15 min
Vaccuum upstairs, incl. upholstery - 25 min
Mop tiled floor - 20 min (it wasn’t a scrub! just a mop)
Tidying/dusting - 20 min
Laundry - 15 min so far
Kitchen extra clean - 10 min (drying rack away, etc.)
Clean mirrors: 10 min
Garbage out: 10 min
(the sling really helps with the vaccuuming/mopping; I can have Noah in and sing and dance while we’re doing that, or least most of it…. it looks odd, I’m sure, and I do miss things here and there. But just in case anyone was wondering. Some days that doesn’t work at all ’cause he’s just not in the mood. :))
Cooking (lunch prep, Carl): 15 min
Housework hours day one (to now)
Today was kind of a minimal day. Unless I vaccuum before bed. :)
Housework
Cleaned toilet & sink - 5 min
Tidied up - 15 min
Garbage/recycling out - 10 min
Laundry - 25 min
Kitchen clean-up (x2, total) - 40 min
Wiped tub out - 5 min
Cooking, total today for all meals - 35 min (doesn’t count simmering time)
Admin time (Carl): Faxing info to car dealership: 30 min (incl. driving time)
Mommy blog talk
Two things going on in the blogosphere (DRINK! < -- the internet jargon drinking game) that have been making me think.
One is this post here on women’s weight gain in marriage.
I it saw via Tertia’s blog but really like Moxie’s take on, in part because she avoids the whole “how DARE he” bit to get down to talking about why, exactly, it can be hard for a mother of young kids to meet this societal expectation even if she chooses to.
I personally think the original post is depressing, mostly because of the title - “False advertising.” Advertising is what you do when you want to sell a particular product, likely one that people don’t really need specifically. (When was the last time you saw an ad for plain rice or dried beans? They don’t have huge lobby organizations (like dairy farmers) or reasons to purchase beyond being a necessity (like flavoured quick-cook rice)).
Advertising is not what you do to get married. It may be what you do to date, I suppose, but marriage is not a consumer purchasing a product or even two consumers purchasing products. It is a partnership. (Which is why I like Moxie’s response a lot, because she says “if the partnership wants this, how can it be achieved.) If someone has to advertise to get married, I think they should walk. away. Because you never know when a pan of hot grease is going to upend over you and you will forever look scarred, or any number of things.
But also, I think men need to get the fuck over themselves if they’re concerned with their partner’s weight. (Although I agree that there is, in fact, a small societal cost to men if their wives are unattractive because society is fucked up still like that, treating the wives as a status symbol on a par with a car. However. That does not mean that men cannot just shrug and say “I like my wife more than I like racking up every possible point to increase my status” and Move On.)
The other thing that’s going around is this experiment with housework, over at Half-Changed World which is one of my feminist blog site heroes. I’ll be joining in as of today, posting my and Carl’s housework hours at the end of the day and going for a week or so.
I did find the comment about FlyLady funny (the “it’s not 15 minutes a day!”) comment to that post. God knows FlyLady is a feminist nightmare in some respects except… she values the women’s work quite a bit by saying ‘okay, you’re doing this as your powerful gift to your family, here’s one way, go.’ So maybe not as nightmarish as the fluffiness seems on the surface.
BUT regardless, the whole thing with FlyLady is not that she’s got the answer to how to do hours of work in minutes, but that she reframes the work so that it’s not a source of resentment. I think everyone figures out pretty fast that it’s not really 15 minutes but… it’s not 15 hours either, and you can get it over with and move on.
Well that’s the soapboxing for now.
What’s up & resolutions
So… after my post about Emily, and not being able to sleep while on vacation, I of course came down with Noah’s cold. Rather brutally.
The Briars was a nice spot to have a cold, although it sort of put the damper on swimming, etc., since I’m not that mean to the other swimmers. But I was really glad to have gone, because the space for the emotions was there and the pampering was really nice and it felt sort of like some cobwebs were getting cleared out on the mental landscape. Travelling with baby is a whole other post but it was not as hard as I thought it would be in most ways.
Anyways, in talking and being quiet and thinking and trying to centre a bit, I realized a few things. One is that I’ve been waiting all this time, almost 7 months, for life to change back to the way it was after Emily died… holding my breath, in a sense. Also the number of stress-creating life changes really has been ridiculous. And, I have been trying to plan for all contingencies at once: what if Carl loses his job, what if my company closes down, what if Noah gets sick, etc. And some of this has been good ’cause I’ve been frugal and cautious in many ways.
But I’ve also fallen into that holding pattern that I get into sometimes where I don’t really entirely take care of myself. Some stuff has been really good: keeping our environment nice, not getting caught up in other people’s drama or creating our own. I’ve been doing reasonably well at reaching out to people socially and that’s something that usually drops out when I’m in the holding pattern.
But some things haven’t been that way.
Lately I’ve been eating a lot of sugar + fat stuff like brownies, and also letting our family fall into Carl’s bad eating habits which involve pizza once a week and copious amounts of pasta. (I don’t think pasta is a complete evil all the time, but having it a lot and especially pasta carbonara, not so smart). The spooky weight loss continues, possibly due to breastfeeding, but possibly due to losing muscle, too.
I haven’t been walking every day, and I haven’t worked out since getting mastitis. I haven’t stretched every day, so I get achey. I haven’t been taking a lot of time to notice the small wonders unless I’m pointing them out to Noah… which is cool, to do with the baby, but there’s a difference between Doing Good Parenting and Simply Being In the Moment and I have been only doing the first.
And I’ve been going about writing in a very very half assed way. And nothing we’ve done has had the oomph of gardening or creating (except, again, for stuff with Noah). Some - okay, a lot - of that has been because Carl has been woefully unavailable. (This is supposed to be changing right now, and in fact, maybe has since he actually did have a vacation.) Having him around during vacation pointed that out dramatically. But some of it has been me not seizing the moments and instead flicking around the ‘net or making brownie-like snacks or watching Sex and the City DVDs or basically doing all the things I do to not-write, not-be, etc.
So as spring comes (hurry up, by the way: it’s beautiful out but cold!) it’s time to get past the next hurdle which sort of falls into the ‘getting real with myself and taking care of my stuff’ category.
Yesterday’s baby step was a grocery shop with all good food, tons of veggies, and no baking supplies. This morning’s breakfast was: plain yoghurt mixed with fresh strawberries (I know, I know) and sliced almonds. Yummy!
Is “yuppie” still in use?
Update soon. :)
However. I have almost bought a car (we’re hammering out details with the owner) for myself.
It is a 2001, black, power sunroof, a/c, automatic, cruise control equipped, 165 hp 1.9 litre turbo…
… Volvo station wagon.
and
it suits
our lifestyle.
And isn’t bad to drive, all things considered. It certainly has more pickup than the Civic.
Still. It is indeed a Volvo station wagon. And there’s just - no other comment I can make on my life right now except that - I fit in the demographic perfectly. Except for all the money. Hence the used.
This too is true
4:24 am
After nursing Noah at 3-ish, I can’t get back to sleep. I watched him breathe in my arms, this 17 lb 6 month old body of his cradled against mine, my arms full at last of baby. And I set him gently down in the hotel playpen and I tucked his lovey around him.
And now I’m awake feeling the emptiness where Emily should be and making the stuffy nose I got from him worse. It doesn’t get any better, really; I think the wave-swells of grief remain just as tidal and it’s only that I’ve learned to lift my feet and float rather than try to plant myself against them. I am so bereft still and I miss the infant she was and the two year she would be today. I miss the girlness of her and I miss her dark brown baby hair and I miss her chin that was so like Noah’s. Even as one of the strongest memories I have of it was it quivering while she had seizure, the rest of her immobile. Just that chin.
And I’m angry at the hospital that took her away from us with its - their, because they were people - uncaring and inattention and sins of omission. I’m angry that Carl’s been hurt enough that part of him seems to have vanished since then. I’m sure the same is true for me. I’m angry at stupid little things too: there was a problem with her headstone and we were moving and they didn’t have our number and I was pregnant and the result is that we only got it all settled in January and so it’s not there yet and that feels - wrong. In another 7 weeks it will be there. But not yet. And I’m just - angry.
But mostly I’m bereft, again. Today’s the 15th: the longest day I ever had in my life, the day of test results and advice and a baptism and then, in 24 hrs from just about this moment now, a last breath. I still hear that laboured breathing and I still feel just as helpless about it now. That gap never closes.
I miss you so my baby girl. I wish so hard that you were on this journey with us still. I feel so much like I let you down; I’ll never be such a silent patient again but you really paid the price for that life lesson. I wish you too had found out what it’s like to get milk-drunk at the breast; to be rocked to sleep; to look at all the red exit signs on the walk from the dining room to the hotel room here.
Although we never would have come here if it weren’t for losing you. I wonder who we all would have been, you, your dad, and I. I wonder who you were besides Emily; the comet through the night sky. I have an idea now what your birth should have been like, and what it would have been like to bring you home and hold you through the night and get up with you when you woke up in beds both familiar and strange. But I don’t have any real idea who you were; your brother’s so clearly himself that I only know you would have been yourself. Uniquely you. And god, I miss you.
From the Briars
Whirlpools/hot tubs are fabulous. I sat in one and texted and read the New Yorker and then I went and had curry from the lunch buffet.
Then I sat in a sitting room with a fireplace and old, comfortable, turn of the century furniture and cuddled Noah and drank decaff coffee made for me and mnn. The staff wander in and out and it’s pamper pamper pamper. I love the old manor house parts of this resort, and I like the newer wings with their spa atmosphere and mnn.
Yesterday was hard. I missed Emily and had flashbacks to the l&d and generally was snippy and irritable. When we got here I was so glad to have memories from in between; from being here last year. The owner greeted us and they’d set the dinner table with a spot for the baby and - it’s just nice.
Noah was soooo sick with his cold; we went back to the walk-in clinic just to be reassured before driving up. But he seems to have turned the corner last night and now is just a bit snotty and a bit grumpy, rather than miserable. so maybe nothing terrible will happen to him after all. Right now he’s napping and so’s Carl and I’m just - breathing. And typing. :)
Quickies
Noah caught a cold and it’s a little scary, this first illness. He’s doing ok, but gah baby goobers. And fear. There’s been this irrational fear something would happen this week, Emily’s week. And so it would have been nice if he hadn’t caught a cold… but that’s life, it always throws you things. And so far it really it quite a normal cold.
Emily things hit hard. I miss her so, and it seems fresh, fresh right now. Fortunately we have the best people to lean on. I have lots to say and then - nothing, actually. Tomorrow’s her birthday. If it had been any other day she would probably have lived. It’s hard. I don’t know. See? It’s not coherent, right now.
We’re still going up to the Briars tomorrow afternoon unless something awful happens overnight; there are doctors in the area just in case, and plus they make the beds and do the cooking and dishes. :) We will be back Thursday night; I may post tomorrow and I may not.
Have a good week and to descend into advice… hug those you love, whether virtually or physically. It’s enough that they’re there and breathing. Truly.
Catching up
I meant to say more about that post of the Ferrett’s, but eek, time flew. I might be able to today though, because today’s catch up and relax day, except for going to the doctor’s. [Yes, tit woes. I feel awfully darkly close to going to formula, except that weaning right now would just make it 50 times worse, and once this is over there'll be no point in weaning. ]
Time flew because I’ve been having fun. Playgroup, lunch with a friend, dropped in at work, and have done some recreational window-shopping too. (By the way, the breastfeeding rooms at Sears at the Eaton Centre are fabulous (and no lemon coloured walls)! I think I’ll shop at Sears just because they do that.) Playgroup just gets better and better as we sort out who’s suited to hang out with whom. Soon we’re having a mum’s night out and getting some space and stuff: that’s the ‘new’ social stuff. The lunch and work is about maintaining ties with really valuable people in my life, 15-year old and 7-year old relationships, and those are nice too.
Having LA in town was really nice - she and I know quite a lot about each other, since we lived together both in university and when she lived with us for a few months as a roomate/guest, and it is really so cosy and warm. I don’t think I ever expected that as we’re also really different people, but I think that is kind of the point - we respect those differences and in fact are now to where we sort of delight in them.
But still - if rest was prescribed for me, have I been going out every day?
Well, I realized somewhere over the weekend of social activities that the only thing that really helps me with the rush of grief and anger (and fear, for Noah) that comes at this time of year is to go out and participate in life and - this is a post still brewing - be a little extroverted, meaning “gets energy from being around others.” I think part of why last year was so hard - besides it being the first anniversary, so no traditions/coping skills yet, and just the freshness of it - was because I was mostly in Ottawa and felt very isolated. And was throwing up 3 times a day and hormonal and energey-less. Hmm.
This year is much better. I am angry and sad, but it’s not permeating the ground around me so that I lose perspective on what /precisely/ is making me sad and angry. The fear is a bit harder to cope with: I was pushing Noah’s stroller across the street and a guy making a right handed turn didn’t look and nearly clipped us (I was looking, but his turn signal wasn’t on). And I had that moment of realization that Emily dying doesn’t mystically protect Noah: he could die today, or in a year, or at 17 in a traffic accident. And it is so scary, and not scary hypothetically.
Well this entry’s rambly but I have to go get ready to go! More later.
Good stuff
This is a great post. (It kind of reminds me of this poster which I also really like.)