I get so many thoughts at work, but I still have not seen a network policy and I am leery of connecting up to this very-outing URL so I keep not having the time to post them.
But today V., who didn’t mind making a bit of extra money this week, cleaned my house while I was at work, so voila! Blog time! Still not sure I can afford regular cleaning (V. has another PT nanny gig starting so she is not a candidate for that) but this time – wow, good choice for me.
Anyways some random thoughts:
I really like my job so far. Yes there is a lot of corporate-y bullshit and the beginning has been inauspicious and disorganized, because the site before mine in the development stream is going to be late to launch and there is a domino effect going on and blah blah, but honestly? Right now I’m seeing that I may be very happy there. May not, but I’m leaning towards “great match!”
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If only Noah could be say in the room next door.
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I read the Vanity Fair Arthur Miller expose and I am not sure what to say. I agree with a comment I read somewhere that said that the person could not forgive him for being such a shit in 1966 (I paraphrase) but given that he was born in 1915, maybe. I get that. I’m still really – I wouldn’t say shocked, but I just feel complexly emotional for Miller and the incredible loss he and his son suffered because of his blind spot. And I have a little twinge that you know, we took Emily off the ventilator, under expert advice about her quality of life. And – I am glad Vanity Fair assigned and ran the piece.
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I have found myself dragged into two discussions on the ‘net lately. One was about a dispute between a wife (pregnant) and husband. The wife wants a home birth and the husband does not. I am not entirely anti-home-birth – living proof that hospitals do not always make for a safe environment. But I am around the bend annoyed at two things in that discussion.
One person said if people were educated they would choose home births. Well, that is fucking stupid. People can be perfectly educated and decide to be in a hospital.
The second was someone who said that you have an easier labour if you’re relaxed. Well yes and no, in my experience. With Emily I was relaxed, until things went terribly wrong, and no amount of relaxation was going to get the cord off her neck. With Noah I was a basket case and he was very easy to get out. So there, anecdotal discussion.
Also? The husband’s opinion DOES count, sorry; he’s the father.
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The other one is over a popular blogger whom I normally think is really good. No link but lots of you will know who. Said blogger is getting a boob job, and posted a picture of her current boobs, which are fine by most people’s standards but not her own. She also is being treated for depression, anxiety, just finished an unsuccessful IVF cycle, and has twin toddlers.
I don’t really know her and really I have to assume she knows what she’s doing but she is so incredibly, outrageously upset that people thought her boobs were fine that it makes me worry about her. As a multiple, I know a whole lot about really crazy relationships to one’s body, which makes me not at all an expert on someone singular not liking theirs… but watching her flip out has made me tired.
The amount of angst (some) women go through as they age is insane. This blogger insists that she’s doing this for her and that she’s regaining her body after all this infertility and again, I kind of have to take her word for it but… I don’t know. It’s an emotional reading that says more about me than about her, but to me it just feels like when one of us is Hell Bent on something because we have to Fix Something, when really what we need to do is pause and be grateful for how things are.
So that’s where my head’s at, when it’s not buried in web stats and content plans, or circling the question of whether Noah ever will be happy at Montessori.
