I'm submitting this essay to the Erma Bombeck Conference competition. They're looking for writing that's in her style that speaks to everyday life. Here it is:
“Well, before we know it, we’re going to be 80 years old with a quiet house and nothing to do but sleep, and we’ll miss all this.” This was the pep talk I gave with raised eyebrows of encouragement to my husband as we bellyached about how tired we are from working and raising two toddlers. Of course I meant this pep talk—which, really, was about as peppy as a dead puppy—to be a sobering reminder that we need to be grateful for, rather than exhausted by, the constant noise and pull of our kids because their childhoods will inevitably whip right past us. In response to my grim cheerleading, he exhaled as his lips flapped together like a deflating balloon while he held his graying head in his hands, and I was certain he was about to agree. Instead, to the thought of being elderly and slumbering in a childless house, he slowly answered, “Awesome. That sounds great.”
As it is now, our tiny house is filled with constant chatter—random, ridiculous chatter such as, “Mama, you be the robot and I’ll be the monster and we’ll have a picnic and eat donut soup and ride around on a boat with unicorns who are pirates who want to steal our peanut butter.”
Along with having virtually no quiet time, alone time also has been abolished. Today I took a shower (which alone is cause for a stadium wave) and immediately had two toddlers poking their cherub heads into the tub. My initial reaction was to get annoyed that my ten minutes of golden solitude turned into romper room, but the ominous vision of the elderly me quickly convinced me instead to embrace the company, so I turned into a “shower monster” and had them squealing in delight with my roars and thrashing of wet Medusa hair.
I’m heathen enough at times to admit I grow weary of always being needed and surrounded by noise. But I know that one day, if all goes well, I will be 80 and I will finally have alone time and quiet. I’ll lie down on my bed (my husband will be snoozing with a grin) after a day of chasing no one, wiping no one’s bottom (again, if all goes well), taking part in no silly adventures that require a tiara and spatula. I will finally find time to read a book that’s longer than 7 pages without any talking animals in it, and I’ll collapse onto the bed, not out of pure exhaustion as I do now, but out of sadness and irritation at the lifeless silence except for the ticking clock.
Monday, January 16, 2012
Friday, January 13, 2012
Ugh
This will be a quick post, I'm sure. I found out tonight a pal of mine passed away from cancer. He was a big part of my life when I first moved to Chicago because we worked together at Second City theatre and then eventually performed together. We lost touch when I stopped working there and decided performing was not my cup of tea. I have all these surreal feelings tonight because of his death. Second City sort of marked the beginning of my adventures in Chicago. It was this electric atmosphere filled with constant, guttural laughter. I think the aspect that's making my head spin tonight is that a big part of that vision is now lost because of Mike's passing. No one is exempt from death. Even a circle of laughter and jokes and people with the hunger to live life is not exempt. I keep picturing his chair where he sat near the box office and finding it hard to swallow that time just marches on, putting someone new in that chair, new faces in the theatre, the laughter of people who have come and gone simply fade into the background only to be covered by new laughter.
Monday, October 3, 2011
Deadline
I'm finally doing a reading this Friday night. I used to do readings often when we lived in Chicago, but western Ohio just isn't the bustling literary metropolis. There's going to be a gathering of writers reading at a bookstore, and I asked if I could read and they agreed. I'm going to read a story from my book, most likely the story about my trip to the nude beach. Good times.
I've set a self-imposed goal of April 25 for the completion of my next book. I have no idea how I'll ever find the time to write. While my students were working on something in class, I managed to jot down ideas for stories, but there's a long way to go from scribbles to book. I almost get jealous when I teach because students get to write and try out the techniques I'm talking about. I'm sure they are the exact opposite of happy about having to write, but I'd give my left pinky toe to be able to sit in a quiet cabin in the middle of nowhere and write for a week straight. That's the thing that's hard about writing--you can't dabble in it here and there between putting the dinner on and having your baby throw up on you. Sure I'm constantly thinking of things to write about, but I'm lacking in the ability to get those embrionic ideas to grow into anything more than snippets of "Oh, I should write about this."
And I could steal 10 minutes somewhere, I'm sure, but then I get caught up in the fact that 10 minutes just isn't enough. I need to realize that 10 minutes each day at the end of the week is over an hour of writing. Well, I'll save those optimistic thoughts for tomorrow. My eyes are nearly crossed from reading a gazillion (exact count) essays from students. All I have the energy to do now is eat a bowl of Cheerios before crashing in bed for a few hours before the baby wakes up for his middle-of-the-night hangout.
I've set a self-imposed goal of April 25 for the completion of my next book. I have no idea how I'll ever find the time to write. While my students were working on something in class, I managed to jot down ideas for stories, but there's a long way to go from scribbles to book. I almost get jealous when I teach because students get to write and try out the techniques I'm talking about. I'm sure they are the exact opposite of happy about having to write, but I'd give my left pinky toe to be able to sit in a quiet cabin in the middle of nowhere and write for a week straight. That's the thing that's hard about writing--you can't dabble in it here and there between putting the dinner on and having your baby throw up on you. Sure I'm constantly thinking of things to write about, but I'm lacking in the ability to get those embrionic ideas to grow into anything more than snippets of "Oh, I should write about this."
And I could steal 10 minutes somewhere, I'm sure, but then I get caught up in the fact that 10 minutes just isn't enough. I need to realize that 10 minutes each day at the end of the week is over an hour of writing. Well, I'll save those optimistic thoughts for tomorrow. My eyes are nearly crossed from reading a gazillion (exact count) essays from students. All I have the energy to do now is eat a bowl of Cheerios before crashing in bed for a few hours before the baby wakes up for his middle-of-the-night hangout.
Sunday, September 11, 2011
"The Nobility of an Ordinary Life"
It's a shame I rarely find time to write in this blog, but I'm making time on this Sunday night after 11 pm because I don't want time to keep getting away from me, ending with my head hitting the pillow each night and sighing in disappointment that yet another day has passed that I didn't write. I have several colliding thoughts in my head tonight after listening to 9/11 rememberances. An editor from a NY newspaper (not sure which one) was talking about how in the paper, they wrote up tributes to those victims who had not yet been found. So they weren't obituaries, but sort of celebrations of these people and he put it in the best way ever. He said these pseudo-obituaries were a tribute to the "nobility of ordinary life." The phrase shot a bolt of energy up my neck. There was an article about a woman whose nephews called the "kissy monster" and that detail alone made me swallow back tears. It seems silly, I know, but the thing that was getting to me was that all of us humans are really the same. We spend so much time worrying if we'll live a life that will impress people or if we'll contribute to humanity in some way or even if our lives matter in the big scheme of things, but what's most important is our meager day-to-day lives. The nobility of an ordinary life lies in wondering how the hell you're going to pay your bills, in feeling like your spouse doesn't understand you, in the way your heart hurts with the love you have for your kids.....the ordinary list goes on and on. But that ordinary, typical living is the heartbeat of what humanity is. The mundane is what ties us together and it is exactly that that we should celebrate and be grateful for each day.
How fitting that exactly right now my baby just started crying in his crib. Normally I'd sigh and wish I could sleep at least one night, but tonight I'm going to snuggle him extra close to me and make sure I'm grateful for the lack of sleep, the dirty diapers and the crying. It's ordinary and extraordinary at the same time.
How fitting that exactly right now my baby just started crying in his crib. Normally I'd sigh and wish I could sleep at least one night, but tonight I'm going to snuggle him extra close to me and make sure I'm grateful for the lack of sleep, the dirty diapers and the crying. It's ordinary and extraordinary at the same time.
Saturday, June 18, 2011
Questions, questions, questions...
Trey's cousin passed away from cancer last week. At his funeral, his brother addressed the crowd with, "What do you want to do with your life?" He went on to say that he and his brother would often ask each other this question and then proceed to talk about ambitions and dreams they had. He asked us, in memory of his brother, to keep that question in the forefonts of our minds. I'm always thinking of the answer to that question, but lately I've been trying to reconcile that question along with, "What do you HAVE TO do with your life?" I guess everyone in the world struggles with that difference.
We moved to Ohio because what we wanted out of our lives was to exit the rat race the city seemed to engulf us in and instead find ourselves in a slower, simpler world. Now that we're here and loving it, we're now realizing there are still things we have to do. I haven't worked full time in 2 years so I can be home more with our kids, but lately I've been reconsidering that and thinking maybe wanting to be home with them is selfish. Maybe what's more responsible is working full time and bringing in more money to help us plan for the future. Maybe I'm getting too caught up in the "What do you want to do" instead of the what I actually should be doing. You never know how having kids will affect you, and the idea of not seeing my kids all day long for 5 days straight is enough to make me have chest pains. That reaction is surprising to me because I've been a workhorse my whole life.
Then there's the whole mystery of death. None of us knows how much time we have, so it makes it even more important to listen to what our guts are telling us. There will always be some aspect of what we need to do, but it's important to try to put what we want to do first at least most of the time.
What I want out of life is to keep teaching college-level English part-time and writing, giving me the freedom to watch my babies grow into kids, but maybe it's time I go back to work full time and see my babies when I get home and focus on the fact that they're going to be just fine with not seeing me so much. In the end I need to focus on what THEY need out of life instead of what I want out of life.
We moved to Ohio because what we wanted out of our lives was to exit the rat race the city seemed to engulf us in and instead find ourselves in a slower, simpler world. Now that we're here and loving it, we're now realizing there are still things we have to do. I haven't worked full time in 2 years so I can be home more with our kids, but lately I've been reconsidering that and thinking maybe wanting to be home with them is selfish. Maybe what's more responsible is working full time and bringing in more money to help us plan for the future. Maybe I'm getting too caught up in the "What do you want to do" instead of the what I actually should be doing. You never know how having kids will affect you, and the idea of not seeing my kids all day long for 5 days straight is enough to make me have chest pains. That reaction is surprising to me because I've been a workhorse my whole life.
Then there's the whole mystery of death. None of us knows how much time we have, so it makes it even more important to listen to what our guts are telling us. There will always be some aspect of what we need to do, but it's important to try to put what we want to do first at least most of the time.
What I want out of life is to keep teaching college-level English part-time and writing, giving me the freedom to watch my babies grow into kids, but maybe it's time I go back to work full time and see my babies when I get home and focus on the fact that they're going to be just fine with not seeing me so much. In the end I need to focus on what THEY need out of life instead of what I want out of life.
Tuesday, June 7, 2011
Fleeting Thoughts...
Some observations about Kettering....
First, and foremost, it's just a top-notch place for kids. I cannot get over how family-oriented it is. I thought Chicago was "good enough," but now I feel like it was way way way behind the pack. Today we went to the library and I was blown away by the kids' section. Chicago's section was always picked over and the books were dirty and torn up. I thought nothing of it at the time, but now I can see it wasn't so fabulous.
It's fun for me to watch the news here in Ohio because it's so tame. Not to make light of any tragedy or crime, but it's rated PG-13 compared to the debauchery in Chicago. Most of the news stories I saw last night had to do with confused old-lady drivers or sex-driven hillbillies. There was also a story of a burglar who held up a bank, but wouldn't let go of the beer he held in his hand the whole time. I applaud his dedication, I suppose.
One last observation, and this one I don't favor, is that there's a whole lot of white people here and not too much of anything else. As my Latina friend back in Chicago says, "There's not a black bean in this bowl of white rice." The neighborhood we were living in in Chicago was described as the United Nations because it was so chock-full of diversity. We lived in a Mexican/Jewish neighborhood and right up the street was the Indian/Pakistani neighborhood. If we went to the playground, Cece was often the minority, and I loved that. This will be the one challenge for me as I raise my kids in this bowl of white rice. I like spice and color with my rice, and my kids will be raised to crave the same thing.
Observations aside, I'm geeked out because I got a tire pump for my bike, so I'm going to finally start riding my bike again. Once upon a time before kids entered my life, I used to ride my bike every day, so now that it's as easy as pulling it out of the garage (instead of fishing it out of a crowded storage space in the basement of our apartment building) there's no reason for me not to return to riding it. I can't wait to tackle all these great bike paths here!
My copy of Louisville Review came a couple days ago. I haven't read my story in it yet, but it's pretty great to see a story I wrote published in it amongst really accomplished writers. The wheels are slowly turning...
First, and foremost, it's just a top-notch place for kids. I cannot get over how family-oriented it is. I thought Chicago was "good enough," but now I feel like it was way way way behind the pack. Today we went to the library and I was blown away by the kids' section. Chicago's section was always picked over and the books were dirty and torn up. I thought nothing of it at the time, but now I can see it wasn't so fabulous.
It's fun for me to watch the news here in Ohio because it's so tame. Not to make light of any tragedy or crime, but it's rated PG-13 compared to the debauchery in Chicago. Most of the news stories I saw last night had to do with confused old-lady drivers or sex-driven hillbillies. There was also a story of a burglar who held up a bank, but wouldn't let go of the beer he held in his hand the whole time. I applaud his dedication, I suppose.
One last observation, and this one I don't favor, is that there's a whole lot of white people here and not too much of anything else. As my Latina friend back in Chicago says, "There's not a black bean in this bowl of white rice." The neighborhood we were living in in Chicago was described as the United Nations because it was so chock-full of diversity. We lived in a Mexican/Jewish neighborhood and right up the street was the Indian/Pakistani neighborhood. If we went to the playground, Cece was often the minority, and I loved that. This will be the one challenge for me as I raise my kids in this bowl of white rice. I like spice and color with my rice, and my kids will be raised to crave the same thing.
Observations aside, I'm geeked out because I got a tire pump for my bike, so I'm going to finally start riding my bike again. Once upon a time before kids entered my life, I used to ride my bike every day, so now that it's as easy as pulling it out of the garage (instead of fishing it out of a crowded storage space in the basement of our apartment building) there's no reason for me not to return to riding it. I can't wait to tackle all these great bike paths here!
My copy of Louisville Review came a couple days ago. I haven't read my story in it yet, but it's pretty great to see a story I wrote published in it amongst really accomplished writers. The wheels are slowly turning...
Saturday, June 4, 2011
From Chicago to Dayton
Well, we did it. We up and moved from big-city Chicago to small-city Dayton. Kettering, to be exact. Trey and I had been toying with the idea for quite a while, but our condo was on the market for nearly 15 months, and we were beginning to lose hope that we'd ever have an opportunity to get out of Chicago. He works at Trader Joe's and he happened to ask his manager if it would be possible to get a transfer to the Dayton area. He has some cousins and an aunt here, so the thought wasn't totally random. His manager said he could definitely transfer in a couple weeks in fact, and the timeline of our condo finally selling matched up perfectly, so we took the plunge and moved here.
Yes, it's different. Thank God, it's different. Don't get me wrong--I love Chicago. Or I should say I loved Chicago when I was a 20-something with no dependents and riding my bike along the lakefront for hours on end while stopping only to scroll in my journal. I loved Chicago when I was taking improv classes, working as a radio DJ and dreaming big with very little money in my pocket and no health insurance to speak of, for I didn't need money and when you see yourself as invincible, insurance is not needed.
But as a 35-year old mom of a 3-year old and 5-month old and wife to my husband, Chicago just doesn't make sense anymore to either of us. We found ourselves working around the clock just to afford our overpriced, undersized condo. A little over 2 years ago we looked at each other and realized we were drifting away from what we genuinely wanted out of life, even though we weren't even completely sure what that might be. We knew that, yes, money is important, but it can't be the only thing we get out of a job, and at that time it was absolutely the only thing I was getting out of my good-paying, soul-sucking job. I decided to finally do what I've wanted to do for years--teach English at the college level. This meant a huge pay cut for me, but also meant a lot more time home with my family. Long story short, our risky jump to a new path left us with even less money and less reason to stay in Chicago. We were surrounded with so many culturally enriching, amazing things to do, and we could afford not a one. We couldn't even afford parking at any of them.
So the condo sold the week my semester ended and Trey got the transfer for his job that same time, so it seemed like life was pushing us to Kettering, Ohio.
We're here and we're loving it. We went from having to lug kids, groceries and anything else up 2 flights of stairs to now having a house where we can pull up into our garage. I still can't get over that luxury. Our rent is almost 1/3 of the cost of our mortgage in Chicago.
We were craving a slower-paced life with more nature for us and our kids, and we've found it. Just in the nearly 3 weeks we've been here, we've been outside so much more than we were able to in Chicago. In Chicago, to go outside, we'd have to get the kids ready, carry the car seat downstairs with the baby in it while keeping our eye on the toddler tumbling down the stairs behind us, then wrack our brain to remember where on the block we parked if we were going to drive that day. The only walking-distance greenery was a small playground down the street, but now we open our door and it's right there. We have a front yard and a backyard and parks seem to be THE thing in Kettering. And these aren't just parks--these are acres of greenery and hiking trails and playgrounds and picnic shelters. Chicago had some okay parks, but we had to drive a while to get to one, and when we'd get there, it just wasn't exactly the nature experience we were hoping to find. Think: deer munching on litter...
I don't mean to paint Chicago in a bad light. It's truly the most spectacular city I've ever been to in my life, but spectacular comes with a spectactular price tag. It started off as the perfect place to live for both my husband and me. It's almost like Chicago swept us away with its glimmer and glitz and then as we got married and had 2 kids we were stranded and treading water in a city that was once so perfect for our carefree, single days.
Now that we find ourselves in the middle of Normal, USA, it's a bit of a wake-up call for me. It feels like this is the best move we've ever made, but yes, it's the end of an era. I am, in fact, no longer that 20-something with the wind whipping in her hair as she rides her bike downtown to be a radio DJ in Chicago. I've been replaced with other hungry 20-somethings with insatiable fire in their eyes. I am an out-of-work English instructor who is currently sitting in her robe on a Saturday night in a very quiet house in Kettering, Ohio listening to nothing but the rain fall and her babies breathe as they sleep after a long day of playing outside. But, gosh, maybe I am just getting old because there's no place I'd rather be.
Yes, it's different. Thank God, it's different. Don't get me wrong--I love Chicago. Or I should say I loved Chicago when I was a 20-something with no dependents and riding my bike along the lakefront for hours on end while stopping only to scroll in my journal. I loved Chicago when I was taking improv classes, working as a radio DJ and dreaming big with very little money in my pocket and no health insurance to speak of, for I didn't need money and when you see yourself as invincible, insurance is not needed.
But as a 35-year old mom of a 3-year old and 5-month old and wife to my husband, Chicago just doesn't make sense anymore to either of us. We found ourselves working around the clock just to afford our overpriced, undersized condo. A little over 2 years ago we looked at each other and realized we were drifting away from what we genuinely wanted out of life, even though we weren't even completely sure what that might be. We knew that, yes, money is important, but it can't be the only thing we get out of a job, and at that time it was absolutely the only thing I was getting out of my good-paying, soul-sucking job. I decided to finally do what I've wanted to do for years--teach English at the college level. This meant a huge pay cut for me, but also meant a lot more time home with my family. Long story short, our risky jump to a new path left us with even less money and less reason to stay in Chicago. We were surrounded with so many culturally enriching, amazing things to do, and we could afford not a one. We couldn't even afford parking at any of them.
So the condo sold the week my semester ended and Trey got the transfer for his job that same time, so it seemed like life was pushing us to Kettering, Ohio.
We're here and we're loving it. We went from having to lug kids, groceries and anything else up 2 flights of stairs to now having a house where we can pull up into our garage. I still can't get over that luxury. Our rent is almost 1/3 of the cost of our mortgage in Chicago.
We were craving a slower-paced life with more nature for us and our kids, and we've found it. Just in the nearly 3 weeks we've been here, we've been outside so much more than we were able to in Chicago. In Chicago, to go outside, we'd have to get the kids ready, carry the car seat downstairs with the baby in it while keeping our eye on the toddler tumbling down the stairs behind us, then wrack our brain to remember where on the block we parked if we were going to drive that day. The only walking-distance greenery was a small playground down the street, but now we open our door and it's right there. We have a front yard and a backyard and parks seem to be THE thing in Kettering. And these aren't just parks--these are acres of greenery and hiking trails and playgrounds and picnic shelters. Chicago had some okay parks, but we had to drive a while to get to one, and when we'd get there, it just wasn't exactly the nature experience we were hoping to find. Think: deer munching on litter...
I don't mean to paint Chicago in a bad light. It's truly the most spectacular city I've ever been to in my life, but spectacular comes with a spectactular price tag. It started off as the perfect place to live for both my husband and me. It's almost like Chicago swept us away with its glimmer and glitz and then as we got married and had 2 kids we were stranded and treading water in a city that was once so perfect for our carefree, single days.
Now that we find ourselves in the middle of Normal, USA, it's a bit of a wake-up call for me. It feels like this is the best move we've ever made, but yes, it's the end of an era. I am, in fact, no longer that 20-something with the wind whipping in her hair as she rides her bike downtown to be a radio DJ in Chicago. I've been replaced with other hungry 20-somethings with insatiable fire in their eyes. I am an out-of-work English instructor who is currently sitting in her robe on a Saturday night in a very quiet house in Kettering, Ohio listening to nothing but the rain fall and her babies breathe as they sleep after a long day of playing outside. But, gosh, maybe I am just getting old because there's no place I'd rather be.
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