September Morn

My daughter is sleeping as hard as she can right now, catching up from a day of running around the beach on Whidbey Island with her cousins and all of the excitement of trying to process everyone she met at my husband's family's mini family reunion out there. She is quite the social butterfly, ever concerned with where everyone is, how everyone is doing, and whether they need a "big hug." She wore herself out, poor thing. I wore myself out yesterday, too, being stressed about spending time with my husband's relatives and whether or not they would like my guacamole or my orzo salad (they always do like my dishes - why do I worry about this?) and whether one of his aunts would get in my business and say something terribly rude and offensive to me (she always does - why do I worry about this?). I guess I was just anticipating having to be "on" the whole day long (i.e., smiling appropriately and making sure I don't have lettuce in my teeth or a stain on my boob, limiting my political commentary and/or not stating that George W. Bush is a big fat dummy, and taking care not to say things like, "Why of course I modeled nude in college - it was for art!", plus chasing after my baby and trying to make sure she got SOME rest throughout the day so that she didn't erupt into tears at the drop of a hat or smack one of said aunties in the face because she was SO exhausted). But of course, it all went fine. I think I got out of there only mildly offending some of the Catholics/Republicans.

Anyway, these mornings when she sleeps in are so, so sweet for me. Now that the summer's activities finally seem to be winding down, I can actually sit back with my delicious americano (thanks, baby) and enjoy the weather we're having. It's the perfect temperature today - there's not too much sun yet, but the air is mild and pleasant. And the smell in the air - I always say it smells like California when it smells like this. I grew up spending a few weeks every summer at my grandparents' house in L.A. I woke up every morning there to the smell of their home, my grampy's Winston cigarettes and my grandmother's piles of fabrics next to the sewing machine in the sunlight. Their house was filled with beautiful, musty pieces from their young life in New England, and my grandmother flung the windows and doors open every morning to capture some of the last cool air. The smell of California for me is that smell - a cozy house with fresh iced tea in the refrigerator, a new jug of Arrowhead water in the dispenser, cat food in the bowl on top of the washing machine off the kitchen, and the essence of the sun warming all the world outside, promising another day filled with small adventures.

I can smell that smell now almost. I can smell the water and the salt. I can hear the sea lions far off barking to each other like that's the most natural thing to do right in the middle of a huge city on a Monday morning. I see a hummingbird out my back window and I wonder if many of these birds are going to try and get down to California before long.

Showing

I just got off the phone with my educational loans people, asking for a forbearance. Finally. I've been nervous about starting this, because I'm not sure that I want to let go of my 3-year grace period just yet. I'm a big hoarder - you should see my basement. I've got enough canned tomatoes, soup, pasta and tonic water to survive if the big one hits and we somehow manage to live through it. We might be unable to use electricity or plumbing, but if we've got a can opener and maybe some gin, we're in great shape.

Anyway, the payments are getting to be too much for our single-income family, so it's the right thing to do now. I also cancelled our New York Times subscription today, because it's very expensive and generally serves only as extra weight in our recycle bin at the end of the week. I loved the idea of getting the NY Times every weekend - curling up with a cup of coffee and the Magazine or the Book Review, hours and hours of blissful quiet and peace stretched before me, but come on. Are you kidding me? That was in another life, and hopefully in a life somewhere far in the future, when there are no children running around here on a Sunday morning trying to stick their fingers in light sockets and screaming, "Cinderella, on! Cinderella, on!" Good-bye, highbrow intellectual me. Hello, Survival Mama. Stained, tattered Mama who now showers every other OTHER day and uses moisturizer and deodorant as an afterthought.

I realized the other day, fighting the crowds at an outlet mall to buy my daughter some new fall clothes at Carter's, that I am far more concerned with what she is wearing and the state of HER clothes than with my own. Before I had kids, when I would dream about life with kids, I would always picture myself as one of those very together mommies, with nary a wrinkle or a stain on my tailored wool pants and silk blouse, and though it would be a challenge sometimes, I would always wear at least just a little bit of makeup to brighten up my face. Fast-forward to reality: most days I hang around in my bathrobe, mascara smudged under my eyes from last night, until an hour in the day I prefer not to mention, hoping for a window of opportunity in which to bathe myself before putting on a new pair of underwear. My other issue with getting dressed these days is my in-between waistline. My regular pants don't quite fit me anymore, but maternity pants look ridiculous - like I'm trying to "look" pregnant. I almost forgot about this schleppy-sloppy time of pregnancy, where mostly you just look like you haven't been taking care of yourself. It doesn't help that I reach for the same old black yoga pants almost every single day, just as soon as I step out of my bathrobe.

What's been a trip is that my tummy is really sticking out much sooner this time. I had convinced myself that I was really just behind on my situps, and I really needed to start drinking my coffee without two heaping teaspoons of sugar and a hefty pour of half and half each morning, but some good friends plus a random old woman in my workout class at the Y pointed out to me that indeed, I was "showing" (the old lady said it was either that or I was just really putting on the pounds. I told her she was very lucky that I was pregnant, or I would have had to strangle her with a resistance band). Note to reader: Just because you are old and/or have been around the block a time or two, that does not give you the right to approach random people and ask, "Are you pregnant?" What the hell is wrong with you! I swear it seems sometimes like people never had a mother - at least a mother that taught them anything about how to act.

The other thing that people have said to me so far this time that has been annoying is, "Another one? Already?" As if I have not waited the requisite time of _____ (insert random time period here) and have, most irresponsibly, disrupted some code of child-spacing. My daughter is almost 20 months now. That means that when this baby is born, she will be almost 27 months old. It's not like I got pregnant right away, and the second one will be born before the first one can even walk! Good Lord. It's hard not to get freaked out by what people say, though, especially since there are no certainties around the whole child-bearing/child-rearing thing. Surely if I lived in another community, people would be saying, "Well, what took you so long?" I have to remember that what my husband and I are doing is right for us, and stake my confidence on that.

That brings me to something that is constantly on my mind; the whole thing about staying at home and not being out there working, using my law degree to the greatest extent possible. I used to really worry about it, most of all because when our daughter was born, the amount of time I was going to take "off" kept changing the older she got - my husband and I hadn't really hammered it out as much as we should have. And money kept getting tighter and tighter (it still is). But the more I stayed home with her, the more I knew that this was what I should be doing - what made me the happiest. I also knew that going to work and being away from her was going to make me very, very sad. I do not know a single other woman who was an attorney and had a baby and now stays home full-time. That is a bit disconcerting - it makes me feel sometimes as if I am not following the "right" track for a female attorney, and that somehow I will never find my way back on again. But I have faith that this experience, while taking me out of legal practice for a while, will make me an even better attorney - more well-rounded, perhaps - and one who is not bitter for having "missed out" on these formative years. My hope is that I will be more than ready to go back to work when the time comes. Fresh and optimistic. Certainly, I want my children to see me take my education and use it to make a difference out there in the world, and contribute to the household income to boot. I also want them to see that I am committed to them, and that nothing is more important than the time I got to spend with them when they were small.

Life is much less complicated these days for me. It is also much less glamorous, a little softer around the edges, a lot more raw. I talk about poop now with all kinds of people and don't even give it a second thought. I sing "B-I-N-G-O" right out loud with my daughter and show her my bellybutton when she shows me hers - I don't care who's around. It is very rare that I get flustered or embarrassed around other people now, or that I fail to say what I really think, without my voice shaking so much. I don't get bogged down, stressed out by what I think people are thinking of me or what they actually mean by what they say. I live rich in the knowledge that nothing else really matters, when it comes right down to it. Nothing but my family. I will work hard to support and promote that, and the rest is just bullshit. I would want to hire someone like me.

On Houseguests

I had houseguests all weekend long until yesterday morning. First my younger sister came to stay, which is something of a treat. She is generally a good houseguest and loves to spend time with her niece, although lately she makes me a bit nervous as she is constantly "cleaning" my house while she is here. I'm not sure why this is, but I suspect it has something to do with the whole sister-competition thing and is a passive-aggressive way of letting me know my house is somehow not up to snuff. No, it is not "helpful" but rather distressing to the hostess when your houseguest gets out the Clorox spray and begins disinfecting the bathroom and the area around the dog bowls. As a guest, I believe a balance must be struck between being respectful and keeping your room tidy and not leaving your bowls and glasses around the house - perhaps even clearing the table and offering to do the dishes one night - and actually taking on the role of housekeeper, taking out the garbage and doing laundry and scrubbing the floor on your hands and knees. In my opinion, you as a guest have a duty to let the host/hostess know with all of your might that you greatly appreciate being invited to stay in their lovely home, you find it most relaxing, and is there anything you can do to help maintain the loveliness that surrounds you. You should behave as though nothing needs improving, and certainly does not need deep, disinfectant cleaning.

Then my mom came up from Portland and stayed for one night while my sister was here. I love my mom. She is a good houseguest, too. I especially love that she goes and takes a nap in the afternoon when she is here. That's a good thing, all you guests. It is important to initiate some "off" time while you are staying in someone's home. Particularly someone who is newly pregnant and feels perpetually as if they could just crawl under a table and sleep for three days. Give your hostess a break from hostessing once in a while.

Of course, there are things that bug me about my mom, too. For one thing, she seems to always only stay for one night. She does work full-time still and has things at home that she has to take care of like we all do, but this is kind of a strange feeling. My husband jokes with her that she's afraid she'll turn into a pumpkin if she stays here longer than 24 hours, and there is always that awkward chuckle after this comment. Because it's true, I guess. The thing is, she's just like me. She's a Taurus. She knows she loves her daughter and her daughter's husband and above all, her precious granddaughter, and she wants to come up to Seattle from time to time to pay a visit, but God forbid she be taken out of her element - out of her home, her nest - for more than a little while. She starts getting itchy, and she "really needs" to get home to do things like sort out the boxes in the basement that have been sitting there for thirty years. So, it bugs me because it is all too close to home, I suppose. It is interesting, though, because she cries really hard when it's time to leave us. She probably wants to bring us all home with her to always have around her. I guess my sister would be in charge of all the cleaning in that case.

Then an old childhood friend from Portland came to visit, starting on Monday. This houseguest will not likely be invited to stay again anytime soon, as she violated many of of the rules of houseguesting, and generally pissed me off. #1: She called me at the last minute to say that she was coming up with a friend (who I do not know) and she guessed they would have to stay at the youth hostel, unless I could possibly spare them a room. Of course I will say of course you should come and stay with us. What else can I say? #2: Said friend of friend would be attending a real estate conference on Monday and Tuesday, and old friend would like to just "hang out" with me and "do whatever." All day long? What about events in my schedule? #3: Houseguests were going to just need to spend Monday night, and leave Tuesday after conference got out, but oh, actually, come Tuesday morning, would it be okay if they just stayed one more night? Um, NO! But of course, "Sure!" #4: Old friend is newly pregnant as well, for the first time, and has extreme morning (read: "all-day") sickness which involves frequent vomiting and inability to eat or even look at regular foods at regular mealtimes, to go for a walk, or even to just be. This makes you an extremely high-maintenance houseguest, and someone who should not be a houseguest unless it is some kind of emergency. This was not. #5: Old friend (this is fast-becoming an inappropriate title for this individual) leaves dishes, silverware, food wrappers and large clumps of hair all around my house, poo-poo track marks in the toilet bowl, every single light on in her guest room all the time, and her bed unmade with the door wide open. Needless to say, on Tuesday night, when she and her friend were telling me that they'd like to spend Wednesday "just hanging out and doing stuff," I told them that actually I had a list of very important appointments for Wednesday so I couldn't join them and that everyone needed to be out of the house by 9am. At 9am, we all left the house, I locked the door and said good-bye, then I drove around the neighborhood with my daughter and came back a few minutes later to my sweet empty house where we both fell down and took a good long nap.

Maybe I am hard on my houseguests. Or I shouldn't be so critical of people who I myself have invited to stay. Well, my sister and my parents are givens. They can come and stay no matter how much they bug me, because they are my family and we're stuck with each other. But I do find that having non-family people come to stay is a good way to figure out who you really desire to have in your life. This friend was a lot of fun when we were little girls - she was adventurous and always up for whatever mischief I wanted to get into. But this weekend sealed for me that she has grown into a woman who missed a good portion of the lesson on manners and selflessness. She is a kind enough person, and I'm sure she will make a perfectly fine mother. But when someone lacks the ability to conduct themself as a houseguest with grace and some humility (yes, even when they are feeling ill), I feel that I simply don't have the time or energy to deal with that person any longer. And these days, I will not.