Unplanned Parenthood

Tears in My Coffee

My company offers free drinks. Not, you know, alcoholic drinks (although there's a fair amount of that brought out for celebrations) (we're a big tech company, it's like a college campus), but there is water, soda, tea, coffee and, most importantly, The Espresso Bars.

Bored? Grab a coffee! Need to get away from the computer? Hey! Let's go get coffee! Just got in? Don't mind if I do. Getting ready for a long drive home? Well, if you insist.

What I'm saying is: I'm very, very caffeinated. Which, given the time I get up every day, is not a huge surprise. The problem is this: I'm kind of bored at work. Antsy. Very, very antsy.

Antsy with nothing to do? Bored? Let's...well, it's a vicious cycle, is what I'm saying.

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Jack is going through a phase right now. Well, I don't know if it's a normal phase or if it's an adjustment period. He cries a lot. Big, crocodile tears. And it breaks my heart.

Last night we were making rice pilaf together and he went to pour in the spices (it was from a packet. God, I'm not that caffeinated.) and dropped them, spilling the packet on the floor. Cue the tears. Big, awful, heart-breakingly sorry tears. He kept telling me he was sorry and was it okay? Did I still love him? I'm so sorry, Mommy. I almost started crying with him. All he wants is to be held and given a lot of consolation.

We don't yell a lot, we're a very loving family and accidents are accidents. This has just come up in the last couple weeks and I don't know what's going on. All I can think to do is just console him, give him lots of love and hugs and kisses, and let him know that he's so, so loved. Mommy is right here, baby, I'm not going anywhere.

He's so physically big and he's funny and just so kid-like. It's easy to forget that he's still a little kid. He's trying to figure out how the world works, where the boundaries are. I've been doing this for four (and a half!) years and I know this stuff passes. I know it's just a phase and that things will change, adjust and reset. It's just hard to remember that sometimes. And, even if it's just a phase, it still breaks my heart.

On Reading

So, remember when I was all, OMG I'm going to read 100 books in, like, 20 minutes and then write about them?  Yeah, me either.

The thing is, I did read 4 of them.  The first, Housekeeping, I read when I had Strep throat and I still don't really remember it.  The second, Heart of the Matter, I loved and I did write about.  Then I read On the Road and American Pastoral and didn't like either of them.  So, I picked up Agatha Christie.  And I think an issue of US Weekly.  I'm fickle, is what I'm saying.  Also, just in case you didn't know, I like to get my hopes and expectations up so high that no piece of literature could possibly live up to them and then walk away in disgust when they fail to engross me and change my life.  I mean, I always finish books, but...

Okay, fine.  I didn't finish American Pastoral.  I found myself skimming and flipping through the last third of the book and finally just put it down.  I never, ever do that.  There have been times I've wanted to and I stuck with it and ended up loving the book (i.e. Middlesex), but I just could not hold out hope for this one.  I didn't care about the subject matter (middle-aged Jewish male identity crisis story), was annoyed with the characters and, quite frankly, just don't have time for bad books anymore.  The really disappointing part of this is that I had such high hopes for both Roth and Kerouac.  I feel personally disappointed in them, which is fully irrational but it is what it is.

So!  I made my statement by throwing the book down and spending several weeks emersed in trashy magazines and murder mysteries (side note:  I had no idea that Agatha Christie books were so good and, well, frightening.), a statement that was only heard by, um, me, and now I'm back on the path.  I just started reading White Noise by Don DeLillo.  Keeping fingers crossed that he lives up to my totally impossible set of expectations.

Hopefully, I can concentrate and be able to read on the ferry over Mr. Must Make Commentary About Every Article in the Newspaper to Strangers Around Him (MMMCAEANSAH).  He's sitting there, on the ferry, (PUBLIC TRANSPORTATION, let me remind you) and suddenly he will burst out with, "Oh my god, listen to this [insert headline and his own commentary on the subject here]" to stunned people around him who feel they need to engage him with a response.  I have to physically stop myself from reaching over, ripping the paper out of his hands and beating him with it.  Or just hissing at him.  SO ANNOYING.

She's a little "bookish," if you know what I mean

So, if you look at my right sidebar over there ======================> you'll see that I've started a new endeavor.  I am working my way through 100 novels and trying to make myself keep track of it and read mindfully.

Check it.