...out the door.
This was a rough year. The (sole) highlight was the arrival of Roo #2, who delights us every day simply by being here.
Working in opposition to this joy were: ongoing work-related drama, the expected struggles that take place when adjusting your family to two new members in rapid succession, a true loss of social network (aside from my burgeoning Twitter and FB presence, ha), friends' health challenges and tragic losses, and -- for the first time in my life -- an unpleasant sense of ennui, aimlessness and impending failure.
Not doom, mind you. Just failure.
I'm carving out a plan to address this incipient haziness, this lack of focus, and I have to say I am excited for the tabula rasa that comes knocking at my door in two hours and 17 minutes.
Happy new year!
Showing posts with label Change. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Change. Show all posts
Thursday, December 31, 2009
Monday, November 9, 2009
In Which Kanga Realizes It's Been Much Too Long
...since I posted. Much has changed. Much has happened.
First of all, we welcomed Roo #2 (also a J) on May 12. Her birth went smoothly, and I was lucky enough to have the same delivery team as last time, with the exception of the anesthetist. The new one was also wonderful, of course. St. Vincent's FTW!
Second, I've gradually realized that the name of this blog is woefully inappropriate. I wouldn't care much about changing it, except that I do plan to begin writing more (my friend N raises a skeptical eyebrow), and topics will include but certainly not be limited to the issues surrounding information professionals in creative fields.
That said, the name will likely stay. Inertia drives me (now there's a paradox).
More soon...I promise.
First of all, we welcomed Roo #2 (also a J) on May 12. Her birth went smoothly, and I was lucky enough to have the same delivery team as last time, with the exception of the anesthetist. The new one was also wonderful, of course. St. Vincent's FTW!
Second, I've gradually realized that the name of this blog is woefully inappropriate. I wouldn't care much about changing it, except that I do plan to begin writing more (my friend N raises a skeptical eyebrow), and topics will include but certainly not be limited to the issues surrounding information professionals in creative fields.
That said, the name will likely stay. Inertia drives me (now there's a paradox).
More soon...I promise.
Wednesday, November 19, 2008
In Which Roo and The New Roo Make Two
Although most readers of this (barely read) blog know this already, Roo II will make his or her much-vaunted appearance on or around May 15, 2009.
I am mildly curious as to how J will react. I say "mildly," because I pretty much KNOW what will go down.
I may sell tickets.
I am mildly curious as to how J will react. I say "mildly," because I pretty much KNOW what will go down.
I may sell tickets.
Wednesday, October 1, 2008
In Which Roo Steps Forward
On Monday afternoon the three of us were literally lying on the carpet on the second floor. Alan was fixing a baby gate and I wasn't. J was pulling at the gate to counteract Dad's efforts.
It was at that moment that J chose to stand up and toddle over to Dad. 1-2-3 steps, and *plop*.
I burst into excited tears, and Alan began whooping and hollering. "Oh wow," we said over and over again.
J, for her part, did not see what the big deal was.
It was at that moment that J chose to stand up and toddle over to Dad. 1-2-3 steps, and *plop*.
I burst into excited tears, and Alan began whooping and hollering. "Oh wow," we said over and over again.
J, for her part, did not see what the big deal was.
Friday, March 7, 2008
In Which Owl, Kanga and Christopher Robin Discuss Driving
As the moments I can take for myself have dwindled since J's birth, I find that the meaning of certain moments, and the meaning of certain environments, has changed.
Driving is a good example of this. Before I was married, driving anywhere either meant I was visiting the three-hours-away boyfriend (that didn't last long, despite a night of falling stars and the glorious Southern Cross) or, later, headed over the west hills to my boyfriend-now-husband's apartment.
After we married, driving became a time of possibility for us. Just as we always seemed to hold our dreamiest and most optimistic conversations at the same tiny restaurant overlooking the Pacific Ocean year after year, we also held our most challenging and frightening conversations as we teetered on the edge of parenthood, driving through the Rogue River Valley in the spring.
When I began working as a librarian at the design consultancy, driving represented responsibility and opportunity. Swinging my Honda into the arts and restaurant district every day meant I was somehow allowed to be there; no one had uncovered me as the obvious uncool fraud I was, and I could enjoy one more day of being paid by a fascinating juggernaut of a firm.
When I was pregnant with J, morning and afternoon drives were time for togetherness with her. Literally cuddled up against me -- within me! -- she listened to classical music until I broke down and punched the button over to alternative and punk, singing along when I knew the words. I rubbed what I thought might be her head and told her about the family she would one day meet.
Since J's birth, driving without her means freedom. I hop in the car, crank the radio louder than it should be and merge into traffic. When I am alone, my destinations are only threefold: the gym, work or the grocery. But in those moments I get a little of myself back. The button for the classical station gathers dust.
And, lately, driving means pride. I go to work to earn our single paycheck (which is not to take away from my husband's amazingly speedy success with consulting...but I have the insurance) and feel at the end of each day that I am one step closer to understanding what it means to support a family. My job is meaningful, challenging and pleasurable to me -- but more than that, it is now something I do for the only other two people who matter.
All that, from a little four-door sedan and the open road.
Driving is a good example of this. Before I was married, driving anywhere either meant I was visiting the three-hours-away boyfriend (that didn't last long, despite a night of falling stars and the glorious Southern Cross) or, later, headed over the west hills to my boyfriend-now-husband's apartment.
After we married, driving became a time of possibility for us. Just as we always seemed to hold our dreamiest and most optimistic conversations at the same tiny restaurant overlooking the Pacific Ocean year after year, we also held our most challenging and frightening conversations as we teetered on the edge of parenthood, driving through the Rogue River Valley in the spring.
When I began working as a librarian at the design consultancy, driving represented responsibility and opportunity. Swinging my Honda into the arts and restaurant district every day meant I was somehow allowed to be there; no one had uncovered me as the obvious uncool fraud I was, and I could enjoy one more day of being paid by a fascinating juggernaut of a firm.
When I was pregnant with J, morning and afternoon drives were time for togetherness with her. Literally cuddled up against me -- within me! -- she listened to classical music until I broke down and punched the button over to alternative and punk, singing along when I knew the words. I rubbed what I thought might be her head and told her about the family she would one day meet.
Since J's birth, driving without her means freedom. I hop in the car, crank the radio louder than it should be and merge into traffic. When I am alone, my destinations are only threefold: the gym, work or the grocery. But in those moments I get a little of myself back. The button for the classical station gathers dust.
And, lately, driving means pride. I go to work to earn our single paycheck (which is not to take away from my husband's amazingly speedy success with consulting...but I have the insurance) and feel at the end of each day that I am one step closer to understanding what it means to support a family. My job is meaningful, challenging and pleasurable to me -- but more than that, it is now something I do for the only other two people who matter.
All that, from a little four-door sedan and the open road.
Friday, February 8, 2008
In Which Owl and Kanga Assess the Progress of Things
I've spent much of the last three weeks focused on finding a system that works. What I mean is...I love systems. I love discerning them, observing them, creating them and improving them. I would have been a good Operations person. Oh wait, I am an Operations person. Though not always a good one.
Anyway, I have been trying to find the System That Works for balancing actually achieving something at work with being home with J and my husband with respect to both quality and quantity.
As always, I should have just realized it wasn't possible. Thousands of women writing books, giving talks and posting on blogs about the challenges inherent to this should have clued me in that I was rather unlikely to find the silver bullet.
So now, it's about compromise, cutting corners and letting go what other people think. I am not great at any of these three things. I have gotten MUCH better at compromise since getting married, but skimping, letting things slide and not being highly successful at what I do...makes me feel ooky.
I do find that I'm more willing to let work slide -- in terms of initiatives I'm promoting -- than home. This, at least, is a good sign. There is no compromise when it comes to the time I spend with J at this early stage. I am so fortunate to share caregiving with my VERY dialed-in husband.
But boy, it's weird to feel the brakes get put on your career (for the moment) and realize that you're essentially the one doing it. And to also realize that you don't mind all that much.
When we decide to not have children, we women have to then decide to be OK with our decision. Similarly, when we do have children and decide to stay home - or to work - or to go part-time - we have to not only decide these things, but decide to be OK with the decision, and move forward.
And, since analysis paralysis and second-guessing are both my middle names, I can't seem to let this go. I keep turning it over in my mind. I keep understanding, bit by bit, what it's like to not be the focus of my own life.
Naturally, having decided not to hear the woes of the generations of women before me, I absorb the problem all on my own, as if it were the very first time it had happened to any woman.
But it seems fitting somehow, since in a very real way J feels to me like the first baby ever born into the world. And I know that other women feel that deeply with their own children.
Anyway, I have been trying to find the System That Works for balancing actually achieving something at work with being home with J and my husband with respect to both quality and quantity.
As always, I should have just realized it wasn't possible. Thousands of women writing books, giving talks and posting on blogs about the challenges inherent to this should have clued me in that I was rather unlikely to find the silver bullet.
So now, it's about compromise, cutting corners and letting go what other people think. I am not great at any of these three things. I have gotten MUCH better at compromise since getting married, but skimping, letting things slide and not being highly successful at what I do...makes me feel ooky.
I do find that I'm more willing to let work slide -- in terms of initiatives I'm promoting -- than home. This, at least, is a good sign. There is no compromise when it comes to the time I spend with J at this early stage. I am so fortunate to share caregiving with my VERY dialed-in husband.
But boy, it's weird to feel the brakes get put on your career (for the moment) and realize that you're essentially the one doing it. And to also realize that you don't mind all that much.
When we decide to not have children, we women have to then decide to be OK with our decision. Similarly, when we do have children and decide to stay home - or to work - or to go part-time - we have to not only decide these things, but decide to be OK with the decision, and move forward.
And, since analysis paralysis and second-guessing are both my middle names, I can't seem to let this go. I keep turning it over in my mind. I keep understanding, bit by bit, what it's like to not be the focus of my own life.
Naturally, having decided not to hear the woes of the generations of women before me, I absorb the problem all on my own, as if it were the very first time it had happened to any woman.
But it seems fitting somehow, since in a very real way J feels to me like the first baby ever born into the world. And I know that other women feel that deeply with their own children.
Sunday, February 3, 2008
In Which Roo Shakes Things Up and Kanga Gamely Follows
Well, this definitely qualifies as "minutiae," but I'll take what I can get nowadays...
For a while J has taken four (!) 45-minute naps every day. If she misses that last one, oh the drama that ensues...
Anyway, for a few days she has been fussy going down for her first one, which after all is at 7:30 am. Geez Louise. Isn't that when most babies get UP? Today it didn't happen at all...
...and today we figured out that she is bagging that nap. Yes, she still gets up at 6-6:15ish ("the farmer checking her crops"), but now she goes down for the first time at 9 am or so. This seems a bit more normal...
It's definitely true that by the time Mom and Dad settle into baby's schedule, it changes.
This whole process is fascinating to me, mainly because J isn't doing *any* of it deliberately...that is, it's her body giving us the cues, not an active decision to change behavior. The advent of clear circadian rhythms really affects everything around this age.
It does mean less rest for Dad for the moment (since he's on baby duty after I go to work each morning), but naturally we'll go in the direction J points us.
For a while J has taken four (!) 45-minute naps every day. If she misses that last one, oh the drama that ensues...
Anyway, for a few days she has been fussy going down for her first one, which after all is at 7:30 am. Geez Louise. Isn't that when most babies get UP? Today it didn't happen at all...
...and today we figured out that she is bagging that nap. Yes, she still gets up at 6-6:15ish ("the farmer checking her crops"), but now she goes down for the first time at 9 am or so. This seems a bit more normal...
It's definitely true that by the time Mom and Dad settle into baby's schedule, it changes.
This whole process is fascinating to me, mainly because J isn't doing *any* of it deliberately...that is, it's her body giving us the cues, not an active decision to change behavior. The advent of clear circadian rhythms really affects everything around this age.
It does mean less rest for Dad for the moment (since he's on baby duty after I go to work each morning), but naturally we'll go in the direction J points us.
Sunday, January 27, 2008
In Which Kanga Experiences Roo's Randomness
Little J. is definitely responding to several things -- Mom returning to work, turning 3 months old (and the growth spurts that come with that), and just plain excitement at "all the living going on."
As a result, Young J has eschewed her previous sleep-through-the-night angelic behavior in favor of continuous reminders to Mom and Dad of her presence through the evening and early morning hours.
Really, it's no big deal. She IS hungry, and nursing more often makes it easier to pump at work the next day. But I hate to see her end her days in such a grumpy mood. Bedtime used to be really fun and happy for her, but now she yells for a while before settling in.
As a result, Young J has eschewed her previous sleep-through-the-night angelic behavior in favor of continuous reminders to Mom and Dad of her presence through the evening and early morning hours.
Really, it's no big deal. She IS hungry, and nursing more often makes it easier to pump at work the next day. But I hate to see her end her days in such a grumpy mood. Bedtime used to be really fun and happy for her, but now she yells for a while before settling in.
Tuesday, January 22, 2008
In Which Owl Assesses the Workplace
Yesterday was my first day back at work. To begin with, work itself...I noticed that things were simultaneously the same and quite different.
The sameness reflected itself mainly in the overall staff (fortunately, there's been fairly low turnover) and, frustratingly, the circuitous nature of the interactions employees have with our information services team. It's hard to build these bridges. Or they fall down a lot, or something.
The differences, however, were uniformly positive. People at work are getting more and more excited about ways to organize, save, manipulate and enhance the information they gather. Wikis and PowerPoints are connecting...discussions are happening on travel blogs while our designers are in the field...employees are responding well to our daily industry and design mailings.
I credit my two associates with much of this; they have the youth, energy and patience to evangelize these capabilities and rally behind them. (Is my jadedness showing?) Now to focus on insinuating ourselves at the early stages of projects, in order to ensure that we not only provide teams with information and inspiration, but that we help them make the best use of what they have already collected.
OK, now to the tough part. Driving to work s-u-c-k-e-d. I alternated crying jags with finding deep meaning in each Top 40 song being played on the radio.
Once at work, the distraction helped. A mysterious stranger (mom?) sent me flowers, with a card ostensibly from J. "Hey Mom -- have a good day. I love you. (J.)" That, combined with my husband's wacky BabyTrack updates on the computer, got the waterworks going again.
Long story short, I made it till 2:30 and then worked from home on my laptop. I'll stay a bit later each day this week (today I stayed till 3:30), and I imagine that I'll be "full on" next week.
The sameness reflected itself mainly in the overall staff (fortunately, there's been fairly low turnover) and, frustratingly, the circuitous nature of the interactions employees have with our information services team. It's hard to build these bridges. Or they fall down a lot, or something.
The differences, however, were uniformly positive. People at work are getting more and more excited about ways to organize, save, manipulate and enhance the information they gather. Wikis and PowerPoints are connecting...discussions are happening on travel blogs while our designers are in the field...employees are responding well to our daily industry and design mailings.
I credit my two associates with much of this; they have the youth, energy and patience to evangelize these capabilities and rally behind them. (Is my jadedness showing?) Now to focus on insinuating ourselves at the early stages of projects, in order to ensure that we not only provide teams with information and inspiration, but that we help them make the best use of what they have already collected.
OK, now to the tough part. Driving to work s-u-c-k-e-d. I alternated crying jags with finding deep meaning in each Top 40 song being played on the radio.
Once at work, the distraction helped. A mysterious stranger (mom?) sent me flowers, with a card ostensibly from J. "Hey Mom -- have a good day. I love you. (J.)" That, combined with my husband's wacky BabyTrack updates on the computer, got the waterworks going again.
Long story short, I made it till 2:30 and then worked from home on my laptop. I'll stay a bit later each day this week (today I stayed till 3:30), and I imagine that I'll be "full on" next week.
Sunday, January 20, 2008
In Which Kanga is Fretful
I return to work tomorrow. My husband will take care of J at home for the next three months or so. I have full confidence in the two of them as a superhero duo, of course, but am equally confident that my insides will twist around for a while as I adjust to this new situation.
The truest thing about parenthood is that all the cliches are right on the money, at least in my case. You love your child beyond all reason. You would die for them. You could, if called upon, kill to save them. You know that someday they will break your heart. And they are more interesting than anything else that could appear before your eyes.
The old cynic in me chafes at the admission that the sappy Hallmark cards have got it right. At the same time, this former cynic now joyfully waves the white flag of sappiness.
Tune in tomorrow for tales from work, in which I try to wrap my brain around issues of information retrieval, transmission and organization after 3 1/2 months away.
The truest thing about parenthood is that all the cliches are right on the money, at least in my case. You love your child beyond all reason. You would die for them. You could, if called upon, kill to save them. You know that someday they will break your heart. And they are more interesting than anything else that could appear before your eyes.
The old cynic in me chafes at the admission that the sappy Hallmark cards have got it right. At the same time, this former cynic now joyfully waves the white flag of sappiness.
Tune in tomorrow for tales from work, in which I try to wrap my brain around issues of information retrieval, transmission and organization after 3 1/2 months away.
Saturday, January 12, 2008
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