Cookie project sidenote // Carl’s work schedule
So some years, we bake tons of really pretty cookies and give them out to people, generally in lieu of cards. The token gift people.
This year I thought we’d go back to that, and then suffered multiple derailments… Carl’s insane work schedule, flus, tireds, etc. So today I took a pack of Seasonal Cards on the train with me and wrote out actual thoughtful notes to coworkers. And I thought “bah, this sucks. No cookies.”
Well, two of them cried. No one ever cried at cookies. I don’t know, there may be something to this personal thanks thing.
~~
The final derailment was this weekend, when one of my Very Best Friends(tm) had a babysitting crisis and asked me to watch her 5 year old daughter for the afternoon yesterday (noon-6, so really the afternoon). For the first 45 minutes, as I whipped up one batch - the only completed batch - of cookies, she and Noah played like a dream team. I thought I’d whirl my way through the whole thing.*
Ha, ha, ha. After that it was constant. Some choice bits:
“Girl says I can’t be a dragon! I want to be a dragon too!”
(followed by…)
“Noah’s not being the king! He has to be the king!”
4:30 pm: little girl meltdown missing mummy, followed by hugs from me. Noah: “That’s NOT YOUR mummy!”
Girl: “She’s my mummy FOR TODAY.”
Noah: shriek of rage followed by stamping around and shouting, “She’s MY MUMMY, MY MUMMY!!! NOT YOURS!!!”
(Eventually we had a group hug, but it took quite a while to get there!)
Also, oddly, Girl came up with a game called “dead children” where she and Noah would pretend to be dead and I would discover them dead and be sad and wail and call the ambulance and then…. eventually they would wake up. I can’t say I loved this game, but Lynn did. The weird part in it is that Girl actually was at Emily’s funeral, but was only 6 months old. And…
… that was what did my energy in at the end. The 4:30 group hug, followed by an episode of Dora and dinner was very cosy. For Dora both kids sat on me and I held them and my arms felt pretty much exactly right with a brownish haired little 5 year old on one side and a blondish haired 3 year old on the other. It was all fine of course, but last night I didn’t really feel up to staying up to 11 or midnight baking cookies.
So, I didn’t.
~~
The insane work schedule:
Last weekend Carl worked 8am - midnight, with a couple of breaks, and then 10 am - 2 am, if I remember right.
He worked all week, including nights to midnight. [Noah was home sick 2 days and at my parents' 1 day.]
Friday he drove into the office at 6 am and worked until 2 am Saturday at the office and then slept until about 8; worked 10 am - 10 pm, and then god love the man, he got up with Noah at 6:30 so I could sleep until 8:30 am, and shoveled until about 10 am.
But then he worked all through the night last night; every time I woke up (and I wasn’t sleeping well) he was on a conference call. Then this morning I had to go to work because I was home two days last week and I had to do something I can’t access from home, so, I went, and apparently he worked some more juggling Noah [on vacation]. He crashed about an hour after I got home.
I truly and honestly think he will die from this. He’s 42 and barely sees the sun, never mind exercises. I really fear this. Every. day.
Not to mention that although he does always find time for Noah, our family only functions because I clean, cook, plan, shop, and arrange things - and I am tired. And our relationship is weird, because yes - he mostly works from home and I can go in and “do business” or make a comment or laugh a bit with him, but it is not really time together. It’s brief moments together.
Last week I overheard him trying to change the schedule [short term change] and basically he was told that his team can work now, or not come back like, ever. So it’s not all him, for sure. But it’s so untenable and it was now about 6 months ago that I said I could only take one more year like this.
So, kind of rough times that way. It’s hard to love someone so much but to be sidelined all the time. And it’s probably not a good idea to have another child until this is resolved, before the reproductive deadline… you know, it’s all kind of a mess really.
A good mess though in that right now the three of us are breathing, so things can be resolved.
* And yes, I thought they might like to make cookies. Nope. We did decorate paper bags. Until there was not enough pink glitter glue…
I expect a thanks at the awards show
This is how you work from home with a preschooler who’s not really that sick. Lots and lots of Playdough. And a bath. And you let him use nail clippers to clip apart an eraser.
But then, if you are me and you worked frantically the day before knowing that today you would be at home with said boy, in a snowstorm, so that you have a tiny bit of wriggle room (work to do on the weekend), you then take about an hour in the afternoon to type “America’s Next Top Model” into a search engine and watch some clips, because everyone’s on about it and you’ve never seen it. Figuring it cannot be the worst thing to have on with your son in the room.
Until he gets up and executes all the instructions Tyra Banks has been giving - that is, a perfect catwalk, pose for three seconds, turn, catwalk.
I nearly broke a rib laughing.
~~~
This pretty much sums up Noah at his current stage, which is that blissful unabashed age before the 5 year old awkwardness hits I guess. He soaked up the audience attention at his school holiday recital.
Overall I was impressed. The teachers wanted the kids to do well, but if a child was unhappy, scared, or forgetting something, the teachers would help or give them a hug or deliver them to their parents. There were no hissed instructions to line up onstage or anything like that. And the directress of the school explained with care why each group chose what they did and what they learned. (For example, with the piano bits she would explain how hard it is to alternate hands, or let a child play a simple scale. Whatever.) Most kids looked not just ok, but actually happy.
Including mine.
Have I mentioned the thing was awfully long though? It was awfully long. There was a presentation of the life of Shakespeare, fairly clearly developed by the children involved (none over six), that had Carl and I in hysterics. I believe the lines that did us in were “And then Shakespeare’s writing was interrupted by the BLACK PLAGUE” (child falls down dead) and “he introduced us to such characters as Hamlet. Hamlet had to kill the king and die.”
And yes, we found the life of Shakespeare a little - yuppie - except that the kids were clearly enjoying the black plague. And I mean really, who does not enjoy a plague or two? The kids also performed several fairy tales, explained the human body and the solar system, some kids played beginner piano, and there were demonstrations of all the “extras.”
As mentioned Noah was the mirror in Snow White, which was a surprise to us, and Uranus. But it was the extras I found most fascinating:
Martial arts: One of Noah’s favourites, and I think if he continues to strut his stuff on the runway this may come in handy. I was super, super impressed with the instructor. When he came in I had that “oh, shit,” moment of having Forgotten To Freak Out about a teacher I don’t know. Male, even.
But the guy passed my smell test on the spot, and more to the point, Mr. Michael was brilliant with the kids. I noticed that even though the kids were onstage, he would correct their movements; he had worked out a really cool way of making eye contact and making a little secret motion that would let the kid know “look at me to correct something” and then he’d re-show the correct move. It was really sensitive and sweet.
Yoga: We knew this was one of Noah’s passions, since he actually makes Carl and I take a class most weekends. “”Downward Dog! Cobra!” He clearly loves this too, although he spent some time taking off his shoes onstage when the other kids did not (and it clearly was not the plan). I blame Lyria for his interest in yoga; we used to do yoga with him at the end of the day and I think he finds it comforting.
Dance: Noah clearly loves dance. I’m not sure it’s going to be his best talent, but he loves it.
Solo singing: Noah doesn’t take solo singing, but that didn’t stop him from trying to perform with the kids so… I kind of suspect that even though he’s not signed up, he participates.
Then we had a communal meal, curried rice and eggplant and a pasta dish that seems to show up at these things that involves pasta and corn of all things, and a whackload of desserts. My parents didn’t seem that thrilled (I think the life of Shakespeare threw them, as did perhaps the explanation of the intestines) and the curry was real curry and they tried valiantly to protect Noah from it, until he informed them that he likes it spicy. Carl’s mum enjoyed the whole thing.
Santa showed up and the Sikhs and Muslims and Buddhists and Christians and Undecideds all let their kids sit on his lap. I wasn’t originally thrilled that Santa was coming, but it was okay.
I have decided that I genuinely like Noah’s school. You’d think that I wouldn’t have left him there for almost a year and a half without liking it, but in fact I have been so fearful and defensive that I thought I was doing well not to try to get the RCMP to set up cameras. That is, I have felt that skeptical detachment was a safer stance.
I think sometimes they err on the side of being a little bit over the top in their subject matter (the life of Matisse?) but in their presentation of it, it’s always age-appropriate. I do like the whole Montessori thing.* And I really think the staff generally have their heads on straight - safety, care, and love first; learning next. That they are really into the learning scared me originally but now I kind of like it. Maybe because Noah clearly thrives on it.
Although if I have to endure another discussion on how “11″ LOOKS like it has two ones but it’s really ten ones and one one, and two ones is really two, I think I will have to lie down and weep.
(This is my fault for having casually observed that “eleven has two ones, see?” Noah has appointed himself my math tutor.)
And it beats learning about Tyra Banks!
* I realized this made it sound like Montessori was about presenting the life of Matisse. Actually it’s kind of mostly the opposite: during the ‘work cycle’ (work in the good sense of the word) the kids can choose their activity, or work together, or wander aimlessly, or lie down and pretend their toes are Spiderman (as long as they are not disturbing anyone else). The activities are focused on breaking learning concepts down, or developing skills, but to the kids they are pretty much games/things to do. I like the self-directed and concrete bits; to me it’s entirely sufficiently ‘play based.’ I could write a lot more but I’ll stop there.
The life of Matisse is just covered for a few minutes at circle time in the morning, and at story time. I have no objection to that any more than I object to Clifford the Red Dog and in fact, if I have to hear each story verbatim at home each night, I think I’m going to have to go with Matisse trying to sell his paintings over Clifford blowing out the fire in the apartment building.
Aaand…
Noah gets diarrhea, again. Not only am I concerned about Noah, poor guy — I think we might need to do samples/cultures or whatever — but I am SO getting at risk for being perceived as uncommitted. Although I am working from home, it is not the same when it’s every. week.
And of course Carl is (still) in the midst of massive, horrible stressful upgrades and is scheduled to work from this morning until Friday afternoon, including tomorrow night overnight at the office. So although he’s backing me up right now, soon he won’t be.
It’s funny to be in the position that I might perhaps have predicted would be the worst. The publishing industry is in disarray, layoffs are rampant, I am not able to get in there and prove my worth in the best possible way right now, and my son is sick and needs me. And I do feel really, really stressed about it. I can leave him with my parents tomorrow but that’s not the easiest solution, emotionally. I’m not sure it’s right either. I’m about to explore “sick nannies” or whatever you call them, but I’m not sure that’s any better.
At the same time - there’s no question where I will be and that’s here with Noah. So simple. We will work things out.
Writing this out helps.
Point form of doom
Yikes! Quick update:
- I fell somewhat prey to the stomach flu of doom, and got so behind at work it was insane. Am still digging out.
- Noah’s first recital was worth a post of its own. But wow. He’s only 3 and he delivered his Uranus line just fine… and was also the mirror in Snow White, which was a surprise to us. A star is born. He ate it up.
- Carl’s work has been so insane I don’t know what to do. He’s also working overnight Thursday, at the office, which means solo parenting including the Dread Drop Off.
- Am so behind on Xmas stuff it’s not really funny, although the critical bits are covered. But I want to do cookies damn-it.
- I was not stellar employee today and was a bit snitty at a meeting that was ludicrous. Still. Came back to my desk and found 600 Sun Media staff were laid off. Urg. I suppose I put myself on the snitty-to-lay-off list.
- Am not sure what I would do instead. State of the media blog to come as well, maybe.
Warrior queen mom
Noah is recovering ok still, so we did in fact make it to my office holiday party at Medieval Times.
Nothing really makes me happier than to hear “those knights have swords like yours mummy!”
(Yes I have a sword in the house, but it’s locked up.)
I find Medieval Times disturbing because I want to hate it, but I don’t because they do after all ride horses and mock-fight nicely. I could do without the story line. Today was especially disturbing because they placed Santa in the role of Merlin/seer and that does NOT work; not just the anachronism, which is ok with me. It’s that Noah wanted to know why Santa was SCARY. And he was!
But yum, horses, swords, and skill.
That was, however, the most violent thing we’ve ever let Noah watch. I was thinking of all the horsey bits and not the fighting bits when I signed us up. We’ll see if he turns into a serial killer.
Bonus guilt conversation from bedtime:
Noah was teasing me with his nighttime snack - offering me some and then pulling it away. So I said that it’s not nice to tease someone like that, because it makes them sad. At which point Noah said:
“But it makes ME sad when you go to work, Mummy.”
Sigh. It does. So I said, “Yes, I’m sorry it makes you sad. I am sad when we’re apart too. But we’re talking about something else. We’re talking about pretending and then taking away, like if I said I was going to stay home and then I said ha, ha, no I’m going to work.”
Noah thought about it and said “Okay.” So I said, ’cause I’m like this “you see that it’s different?” And he said all calm and everything, “Yes.” And then we had a big hug.
It is really wildly weird and hard sometimes… and then warm and cuddly. And hard.
Sometimes I crack myself up
Tonight’s task: complete Xmas newsletter. Why do I write one of these things? I dunno, it’s complicated. And I have a love-hate relationship with them. But this year I think I found a good opener. (This is, honestly, going out.)
I must warn you before you read this letter that you will find no Nobel prizewinners nor million dollar lottery recipients within it. In fact, you will not even find a new pet. It is a particularly ordinary letter from a particularly ordinary family…”
(Why yes, I did read Lemony Snicket, why do you ask? I do credit it.)
What balance? // Dancing & reunions
This week went from difficult to surreal in many ways.
There are many, many mentions of poop in the first bit of this post so if you are not a parent and/or Do Not Want To Know, I have helpfully divided this post up for you. The first bit has the poop, but if you scan past that to the “dancing” bold part, there is the best fashion tip ever for you.
Noah seemed fine Tuesday and Wednesday. (Well, he was, as far as we could tell.) Wednesday night, though, I went to check on him and as I opened the door it… smelled. Oh no. Oh yes, the poor kid had had diarrhea in his sleep which had overflowed (he still sleeps in a diaper). This was followed by two more episodes in the night and then on Thursday morning, watery diarrhea. Which prompted me to call Telehealth Ontario.
I know that the real goal of Telehealth is to keep people from going to the ER that don’t need to be there. But my god, I love Telehealth. It’s nurses sitting with a major database and a phone. They can’t, obviously, diagnose over the phone. But when you’re sitting there thinking “probably, I don’t need to go. But do I?” or “I know this isn’t an emergency (yet) but what do I do? and when would it be an emergency?” they are this kind (if quite scripted) voice. And one time I had a question the first nurse couldn’t answer and she went and found the master nurse.
Anyways, the Telehealth nurse established that we didn’t have any apocalyptic signs (blood and so on) and reiterated to feed Noah quasi-normal food, keep him hydrated, and that it might last up to two weeks and he can’t go back to daycare until his stools are formed. Which explains why he gets stomach flus because how many parents can really manage two weeks like that for every diarrhea? (This is really Noah’s first, so.)
Dancing
Of course Thursday was the seasonal party for my work. It’s a must-go event; obviously they can’t force you, but not showing up is basically a signal that you don’t take your job that seriously.
I wasn’t sure I was going until the moment I walked out the door though. It was so hard. I really felt like I should be there and that it was kind of gross to leave my child to go to a party. And it was tempting to use that excuse to hide (as I did last year, to be honest). But Carl was here and Noah hadn’t had any ill signs since 10 am and so… I went.
One thing about where I work is that people who create mainstream magazines tend to be the kids I was not in high school - the ones who spent time shopping and trying on makeup together. And who continue to know what to wear when and to look really amazing and blah blah blah.
Sometimes this is a little scary for moi, (former?) geek girl, but I’ve come to appreciate that if people are going to be in charge of advising people, they probably should at least genuinely believe in what they’re presenting. So I’m generally okay with it, even if I occasionally feel like my head will explode. Like getting dressed for the seasonal party.
Fortunately I have a professional crush on two people at work: one is someone who works on the admin/numbers/etc. side who also happens to have published a vampire trilogy. I knew she’d be there, and I knew she’d be wearing something /she/ liked and not that was “the perfect party dress.” (Whereas most people would be wearing something you would see on the pages of… Elle, say. Cough.)
The second, however, is our novelist-cum-beauty-editor who is just amazing, and who has given me the best wardrobe advice ever, which I now pass on to you:
If you don’t know how to dress, dress down, but in classic pieces. So if you don’t know whether jeans would be okay but you think they might be, wear jeans, but pair them with a turtleneck and a pair of boots. Classic, and not overdressed.
So I dressed down in something goth-y-ish, but with blood red bits, and it was fine. I got compliments, although it’s hard to tell, honestly, if they were pity ones or not.
(She also does a hillarious riff on shoes I want to share, except mine were fine this time, and this is long already.)
I had planned to take a few hours to get my hair, makeup, and nails done. One thing I have learned about myself is that I don’t really know how to do all that (I mean ok, I can look fine, but not to the standards of my work) and it is worth outsourcing and then it becomes relaxing. Since I couldn’t do that, I ended up snarling in the bathroom for 30 minutes. But it was fine. And Noah has blood-red nails too, which will make him a hit at the children’s party on Sunday if he’s all better.
The food was not plentiful but good; the drinks were plentiful. What surprised me most was the music. Apparently all the music that I listened to in high school is now totally remixed and the office party soundtrack - even if current remixes of Prince and MC Hammer are a little scary. So I danced and danced. My very sweet 24 yr old coworker was like “Wow! You know all the words!” Um - yes. What can I say?
It was kind of like rewriting high school. I blame the music, in fact, for making me all nostalgic (and the fact that it will be my 20th reunion this year and that I realized that this month of course plays into it). I had to pause in the bathroom, listening to the drunk 20-somethings, to consider that there is a definitely irony that out of all the girls at my school, I’m the one reading and editing 8 beauty and fashion pieces a month. And I am starting to understand them.
So in the cab on the way home I was really having a fantasy where I decided I would throw an anti-reunion party. But then I had to consider what an anti-reunion party would look like? I mean you can’t be standing around talking about yourself. I came up with two ideas:
1. A charity event that involves physical labour, like a Habitat for Humanity day.
2. A showing of The Breakfast Club that involves a LOT of alcohol. But it would have to be in an actual theatre, because in a home you might end up talking, or something.
Not planning either of these, but there you go.
Overall it was a success. The whole thing about office holiday parties? You don’t want people to remember what you did, just that you were there and air kissed them.
Today we kept Noah home again - it was Friday, he was still peaky, and he hasn’t actually produced anything to check for normalcy. I felt lousy, lousy, lousy working from home AGAIN - that makes three times this week, all of them childcare days which means really “do what can’t wait” days.
I hate being the worker that isn’t at the top of her game. But I also think it is probably good for me to live through it. Even in this economy.