Will This be in the Blog?

Back when I wrote on my blog every day, sometimes multiple times in a day, one of my favorite/most annoying questions was, "Are you going to write about this? Will this be in the blog?" I would usually scoff, sigh and little bit, and reassure whoever asked that contrary to popular belief, I don't post a minute-by-minute detail of my life and my thoughts on the Internet.

Then I thought, well, that would be fun. Because I am a sick blogger. I just goaded my friend Dee into writing a blog post about her new baby because I'm sick. She told me to back off which I respected because the sickness has not yet spread to my conscious. I'm only mildly ill. Anyways, I digress.

Since I can't talk about my actual work interactions or the name of where I work or even that I am affiliated in anyway with this company that may or may not be in finance (because the Lord knows, when my Compliance officer googled me, I thanked a deep sigh of relief because: 1) I don't blog about work and 2) My blog did not come up on the google search). (As a second parenthetical aside, who google searches someone while they are on the phone with them? It was like being in a weird game show with the announcer droning on, "Ladies and gentleman, let's see how many sites Google will take us to NOOOWWW with our finance professional!! Of course, I googled myself simultaneously to their google, so at least I wasn't completely surprised).

Jeez, that was such a long aside that I had to go to a new paragraph to distance myself from it. I clearly can't go by minute by minute because that would take too long and have to include horrible minutes where I picked my nose or pulled my undies down. It would be unpleasant for all of us. Here is what an hour-by-hour look at what tomorrow holds for me, with some minutes thrown in to make it spicier:

11pm - 6:30am - Sleep!

6:30am - 6:45am - Shower

6:45am - 7:20am - "Zac, stop playing around. I'm serious. We are running late. Are your socks on? What do you mean you only have one sock on? Where did the other sock go? Your Nintendo DS is in your bag. Yes, I'm sure it is fully charged. Can you please put your other sock on before I lose my mind. Hurry!!! I see the bus up the street.

7:20am - 7:40am - Get ready for work

7:40am - 8am - "Commute" to work. It only takes 20 minutes because of all the stop lights and traffic. It could be under 10 if I had a straight shot to my building.

8am - 9am - Read online news, figure out who I'm going to be calling, figure out who I called yesterday, catch up on any administrative tasks that I didn't do the day before because I got tired.

9am - 11am - Call as many strangers "cold call" or semi-strangers "warm call" as I possibly can. That can range anywhere from 40 to 150 dials.

11am - Leave for lunch seminar. Begin freaking out that no one will come to said lunch seminar.

12pm - 1pm - lunch seminar

1:30pm - 2:30pm - Finish the on-site administrative paperwork for the seminar and drive back to my suburb.

3pm - 5pm - Call as many cold and warm strangers as I can. Return phone calls from while I was out of the office. Check e-mail.

5pm - 6pm - Meet with a prospective client

6:15pm - Leave for home

6:35pm - 8:30pm - Hang out with Zac, even if he would rather play computer games than talk to me.

9pm - Read

10pm - Read some more or catch up on my favorite blogs.

11pm - Sleep

I don't usually blog too much because I've become the most boring kind of workaholic imaginable and I can't even write about my work interactions or my feelings about work. I've officially used the words "blog" and "work" too many times in this post. I'm going to end it now before I start throwing around terms that google might pick up on. Good night!

Worries and Anxiety

I worry that my worst fears about my writing on this blog and how it would affect me outside the computer may have already come true. To take anything down at this point would seem redundant and silly. All I have are worries, anxiety, and one episode of Criminal Minds before I fall asleep.

Acquiescence

Ok, ok...I'll update. Goodness! I have a new reader who actively prods me to update, which is probably good for me since I've been a slacker on my blog lately. It's hard to remember that I used to update every day. I also used to talk about vomit a lot. That might have something to do with my posting frequency. In a wonderful, wacky turn of events, I get puked on so much less now. That might lend to my overriding feeling that I don't have much to say anymore, or the time to arrange everything in the way that I want to say it. It's easier to write about ear infections, puke, and developmental milestones than about my feelings or observations.

To get out of my passive role of blog reading and into a more active role as a writer again, I've decided to combine all three of my blogs (pregnantblogger, notsopregnant, and onbeing-andliving) on a new site. I'm really excited about developing five years' worth of blogs into a cohesive site and can't wait to start working with Dee on the project. I'm leaning now to going back to notsopregnant.com, but if anyone has any feedback, I'd love to get it. Maybe I should keep onbeing-andliving? Maybe I shouldn't look backwards and create a whole new domain name? Maybe no one reads this site anymore because I post so infrequently. I'm not sure. I'm torn. For now, I've settled with just changing my blog template and switching everything from the right-hand to the left-hand side. I'm a wild and crazy blogger, I know.

Speaking of unbridled wildness, Zac woke up early this morning. Last night he was so afraid that he was going to oversleep and miss his birthday. Papa and I assured him yesterday that we would wake him up, and that the sun doesn't need any help rising in the morning, but it looks like he wasn't going to be taking any chances. Zac and I got up and snuggled on the couch this morning and sang "Happy Birthday" to him well before the sun made an appearance. I now have the ridiculous, "How Old Are You?" song in my head. Hopefully you now have it your head as well. Consider that my gift to you.

People always post the "I can't believe my child is XXX number of years" blogs so I'm going to try and avoid doing that. However, I would be completely remiss if I didn't somehow mention that the little being that I gestated in my body for 9 months is now 4 years old. It is crazy. Sorry. It had to be said.

Every day Zac is growing and changing. He still loves to sing and always requests a duet with me whenever we are around music. The word "request" is a bit of a misnomer. Demand is more like it. He's an almost unflappably polite child except when it comes to asking for things. Instead of, "Please may I have..." I'm much more likely to hear, "I want juice." Then he'll just like at me like, "Woman, I have a need that you must fill. Get to that." If I don't respond to a statement he makes the first time, he'll inevitably ask for it again. "Mama, I neeeeeeed juice!" Then he'll go back to looking at me with a mixture of hope and sense of entitlement. I always ask him, "How do you ask for something when you want it?" and he'll respond dutifully, "Please may I have...?", but I'm thinking that my more conciliatory method of parenting isn't getting the point across. I may have to crack down on guerrilla demands by not responding at all to statements not made in the form of a question that begin with "Please".

But that day won't be today. Today, my little man turns 4 years-old and I couldn't be prouder of the person he's becoming, even when he forgets to be ask politely. He's funny, sweet, intelligent, and an incessant talker. His steady stream of words reminds me what it's like to find joy in the mundane and amazement in the middle of a daily routine. Happy Birthday, Zac.

The Writing Spot

I should have added my other blog to my blogroll when I updated the links, but I forgot.

Nevertheless, there is a new post over at The Writing Spot. If you'd like to read it, just shoot me an e-mail at onbeingandliving@yahoo.com.

Happy Mother's Day to all the Moms out there!

Indigo Hues

"What makes me think I can start clean-slated?

The hardest to learn was the least complicated"

I've relearned in the past month some of the basic tenets of relationships: be good to others; cruelty will always be returned to you, usually more powerfully than you delivered it to someone else; cherish your family; remember to smile. I've been so far from perfect that I wouldn't even suggest that I was in the realm of even being good. I'm trying, though. Every day I wake up and I'm trying. If I didn't believe that I would be happier and healthier than I was, it would be almost impossible for me to get out of bed in the morning. I'm seeing a new therapist that wants to see me once a week. I have no idea how I'm going to work that into my schedule since I'm in a negative with sick and vacation hours at work, but I'm purposefully putting my hands and my ears and singing, "la la la" whenever I start to think of the finer logistical points of getting to therapy before 6pm every week.

Zac has been struggling a bit. Now that we are back in our apartment he frequently asks if he can sleep next to me, only to wake up in the morning and ask to go into his own room. That makes me wonder if it's possible that I'm snoring louder than he is or if we've reversed the ninja kicking. Maybe he feels the most confident between 5 and 7am. I don't know. He also wants to hold my hand as much as possible. If I'm walking in front of him, trying to get out to the car as fast as possible before work, he calls out: "Wait Mama! I want to hold your hand!!" I stop, wait for his little legs to catch up, and then we go out to the car together. Man, he's a cute kid.

When Zac and I picked my sister and brother-in-law up from the airport, we met up with them at the baggage claim. I left Zac with my sister, rather quickly. He was acting all shy and I knew that negotiation with him would fail, so I just told him that I would be right back and dropped his hand. My sister asked him what was wrong and he told her, "I'm nervous," which for some reason impresses the hell out of me. As MNS said, kids are great because they will actually tell you what they are feeling, rather than adults who will do almost anything to hide how they really feel.

I'm a little more cautious this time around about blogging about how I really feel. All of my blog posts are saved and unpublished. There was just too much unhappiness in one place for me to feel good about them even if I know that I am more than a composite sketch of words. For now, I'm happy leaving those words to rest a minute. I need a clean slate.