Fuck Daylight Savings

I am not a nice person before six am. I suppose it could be argued that I am not much of a nice person after six either. But, trust me when I say that I am unbearable before six. I think it goes back to my high school days when I worked at the pool. Everyone had to do an early bird shift once a week. The pool opened at 5:30am and there needed to be two lifeguards on duty. My personal belief is that if you want to swim laps at 5:30 in the morning you should be willing to drown. Especially, if it is January and 12 degrees. My entire week was built around the dread that my one shift per week generated. The entire night before I would be lamenting my fate. Need to open the doors at 5:30? I'd leave the house at 5:28, leave my bed at 5:27:30 and scrape the windshield at 5:29. Back in those days I welcomed FallBack, because it meant a slight reprieve from the Early Bird. But toddlers don't seem to understand the benefit of gaining an extra hour in the morning. Nora awoke at five fucking am and I just ignored her. Sure, I wasn't getting any sleep, but at least I wasn't giving in to her. At around 5:30, I finally relented and got up to make her a bottle and ask Alec if he intended to share in the wealth of an extra hour of Nora. While I slammed through the kitchen swearing and preparing her bottle, Alec went into her room. Surprise, she had reached into her shitty diaper and surprise wiped it all over her crib, sheet, blanket, and self. Fucking sweet.

We are NOT drywalling this week

Serves me right. I HAD to get all excited and proclaim the fact that drywalling was immenent. In fact the actual drywall is nowhere to be found, at least that is what the drywall guy says. I'm thinking, if this is your business, your career, wouldn't you make sure that you had drywall, or at least a source for it? Anyway, this entire week has gone by without a drywall srew being drilled, and I am heading home tomorrow and will not see any of the progress that I anticipated.

Meanwhile, here in Rice Lake, it's...well... very depressing. The houses are all these dismal little one story ranch houses. No character. And the big story this week is the opening of the Wal-Mart Super Center. The old Wal-Mart is now one more empty building. And the bookstore I worked at in High School closed down, because ya' know they sell books without the huge discounts. And the pool where I worked in High School has a big crack in it, so I guess it is closed for a while. Each time I come back here I remember why I was in such a hurry to leave. DEPRESSION. Even the beautiful fall colors and crisp days can do little to combat the desperation this town emotes. I suppose it goes without saying that I was a drama queen in high school too.

Seven Months Pregnant

I can barely remember what being seven months pregnant was like. But, I'm pretty sure that is about where we are with the house. You look ready to lay down and have that baby right where you are, but there are still 2 looong months ahead. Months filled with the hurried preparations of a new baby. Weeks when you think, "Let's have this baby already!" Similarly our house looks pretty well done, the changes are small and incremental. But can't it just be finished, seriously. We are in a mad rush of picking out carpet, appliances, cabinets, tile, EVERYTHING that goes into a new house. And we are doing it by committee, which can be very time consuming. Just like with Nora, there are things you have to buy, necessary, expensive things...crib, car seat, diapers and then there are those lovely little non-essentials that make having a baby worth it, clothes, shoes, toys, bedding. The house is the same way. Bathtubs must be bought, but what kind of fixtures are all a matter of taste (and budget). This state of expectation and excitement is dampered by the long weeks ahead, weeks of setbacks, rain, bloating, and constant peeing. And with my track record, seriously overdue!

Hopes and Dreams

I've been thinking lately about what I hope for Nora as she grows up. Do I hope that she finds her passion, of course. But, what are the ramifications of that. I mean wouldn't we all like to "pursue" our passions? But how does that pay the bills? I would love her to be a ballerina or a artist or a writer, but what if that means that she'll be broke and, and, not able to buy expensive handbags? Then again, what kind of parents wants their child to grow up to be a financial analyst, not the kind of parent I want to be. I mean what if being artsy means that she is living with us until she's in her thirties...that is just too awful to think about. I guess this is coming from me evaluating my own choices in life. There is nothing like a neighborhood meeting to really distill all your life choices down to their essence.
"So, what do you do then."
"Um, actually right now I work part-time at the university for benefits, but I have my master's in children's literature."
"Really, what kind of books do you write?"
"I don't write, but I have graded papers for the univeristy class on Children's Literature."
"Oh, so you teach."
"Ah, no. Just grade papers for the professor."
Meanwhile, the monthly payment for my student loans is due.

Rainy day

It is a lovely rainy day today. The kind that make you want to bake and drink cocoa, read a book, and curl up with a cat. The rain that is charming after months of sunshine. And the kind that is perfect for working in an office, listening to the Garden State soundtrack and looking out at the gray sky, which incidently is just what I am doing right now.
I can only have this attitude because I don't live in a studio with my only child sleeping in a room under the house. Instead I belong to that set of society that lives in more than one room, and has their children sleeping in a room down the hall where they can peek in at them at any moment.
The house is being insulated today. It might only take one day, but let's say it takes two, we'll still be starting drywalling this week. WE'LL BE STARTING DRYWALLING THIS WEEK!!!! After that is finished, we paint, put in flooring, order kitchen cabinets, get tiles, basically get to all the fun stuff. And see what this place is actually going to look like. It is just so fucking cool I'm speechless.

Trading Spaces

We live in the big house now. Vic and Faye are in the studio. They insisted, no really they did, and who are we to tell them that living in a coverted two car garage is not really all that much fun. I mean, sometime you just have to learn by doing, right? And during this learning curve Alec, Nora, and I might as well live in luxury. Okay, in all honesty we owe to Nora, what a little trooper. She choose just the right time to learn to climb out of her crib, scaring the bejeezus out of her grandma.
Here's how it played out:
We spent two nights and one day in the studio before they returned. The transistion was not going well for me, refer to earlier post. But, Alec had faith that in time it would be fine. Nora seemed bored with the small space of the studio, I believe I also commented on that fact in my lament. I expressed these feelings to Faye and she was sympathetic, but didn't really know what could be done. Then Nora woke up from her nap and Faye and I went down to get her. She was not in her crib. She was on top of the table that is next to her crib, fists full of toys and appearing to be returning to her crib. In other words we caught her at just the right moment. I'm not sure how long she'd been getting in and out of her crib, but the morning before, I had come in to find her sitting in a basket, tipped over and pinned to the side of the crib. I did wonder at the time how she managed to reach that basket as I was sure I had put it well out of range. But, that seemed like an insignificant question when what I was really wondering was how the hell she got herself sitting IN the basket, it was tiny.
(Personal References: Brandy: it was the basket that the Zingerman's stuff came in. Ali: It reminded me of the picture of Beave in the basket when she was a kitten.)
SO once we realized that Nora was getting out of her crib, it seemed like a natural progression that she would open the door and go roaming about the yard in the middle of the night, that is until she ran into a coyote. Faye was thus determined that we should move into the house and they would endevour to live in the studio, which anyway is much bigger than the Spanish pensionnes they had just been staying at. Like I said, who are we to dissaude them. We've been sleeping in the new digs for two nights now and I don't know about anyone else, but I think this is going to work out fine.

Trying to readjust

I don't want to go back to studio living. In fact, it may even be that I CAN'T go back. It s-u-c-k s, hard.
For one thing, we don't know how much longer the house will take 2 months, 3 months, more? It appears that it is anyone's guess. I just can't hold out over the rainy season again. Today, was our first full day back in the studio and Nora is not into it. It is far too small and boring to hold her attention and she threfore spends her energy on getting into everything that is off limits. That leads to battles of will, and crying and tearing of hair, mostly mine. So, what do we do?

Our only option is to stay in V&F's vacation rental. It too, is small, but at least there are different rooms, and a back yard, and close to downtown. I'm not sure how much rent they'd want. More than what we are paying now, no doubt. Plus if we are down there, it isn't as easy to work on the house (whenever that will happen) or for Faye to babysit Nora. But, the privacy and kitchen are strong draws for me.

I'm trying to stick it out, but at some point you just have to fold, right?