Have you ever noticed that when you pick up a copy of Reader's Digest or Parade, and you read the jokes or readers' questions page, you never know any of the people who write in? I think I've even tried to mapquest some of the cities these people supposedly live in, and on more than one occasion it didn't exist. Are the editors of these mags actually making folks up to fill their layouts? Besides, can Reader's Digest really afford to pay $100-300 for every joke that's published?
Today was one of those days where I woke up and really didn't feel like playing the part of a mother. I didn't want to get out of bed, didn't want to change a diaper, didn't want to play. I just wanted to lie in bed and wallow for awhile. I'm lucky that I have a very accomodating daughter. We lay in bed all morning, her playing with her toys and then nursing when she got bored, and me in and out of sleep while toys and little fists alternately bopped me in the face. Finally at 1:30pm, I got up my druthers to call another at-home mother. The fact that she had just changed out of her pajamas and taken a shower made me feel better. She also told me she wouldn't think any worse of me if I decided to remain in bed the rest of the day. She made me laugh enough to want to get out of bed. By then, I was happy to play and be silly with Bryony because my mood, while not exactly happy, was much improved. I miss working in science, talking to other adults about non-baby-related things, and getting a paycheck twice a month. But, I also know that when I finally do return to the working world (outside of my home, that is), I'm going to miss Bryony terribly. I'm damned if I do, and damned if I don't. It sucks.
One of the difficulties of being home with Bryony all day is getting chores done. My housecleaning is shot, which is depressing. Enjoying a lunch without stuffing it in my mouth because baby needs attention is non-existent, which is depressing. But nothing was so depressing as to cease receiving my mail because there was 5 inches of snow on the walkway to my house, and I just did not have the time to go shovel. I literally didn't get mail for three (or four?? I lost count) days because the mail carrier refused to walk in the snow. Kindly neighbors had shovelled my sidewalk but presumably had not shovelled the walkway up to the house because it would have required entering my gated yard to do so. Hence, no mail, until I finally found time to do it while Bryony waited in the car in the driveway on our way out somewhere yesterday morning. I had a stack of mail in the box that afternoon, with a scribbled note on a stack of rubber-banded mail that said, "No mail, snow" with the carriers initials next to it, and the dates that he was unable to deliver because my 5 inches of snow had kept him from reaching the box. How humiliating.
Adam has been down in Texas for two weeks now and is enjoying his work, his coworkers and his routine. The 40-50 degree temperatures aren't so bad, either. Oh, right, not to mention he found out yesterday that he'd been promoted. Things are going very well for him right now, and not only does he deserve it, but I'm happy for and proud of him.
My confession, however, is that I'm simultaneously a bit resentful about his success when I seem to be having so little myself. I have been applying for jobs for the last six months with no bites. Even the so-called "low-hanging fruit" haven't been easy to pick; the very very entry-level jobs that I've applied to haven't even elicited an interview. It's so depresssing. I'm bitter. I've gone to school, taken the coursework, run four years of research and dealt with the graduate program headaches...and I can't even get a seasonal field technician position? I'm either over-qualified or under-qualified. Either a Masters degree isn't enough and you need a PhD or the Masters is too much, they're just looking for those with undergraduate degrees. I'm not looking to become wealthy; I'm just looking for a job that uses the skills I went to school to obtain. I'm demoralized, exhausted and depressed. I kinda feel like I'm done with this rat race, at least for now.
On top of it all, I think I've got carpal tunnel in both my wrists. My right wrist has been in pain for months now. I hadn't been able to get it looked at because we didn't have health insurance. Now that we do have insurance again, my left wrist seems to be a bit painful, and it locks up on me from time to time. I'm getting old (and stiff). Yuck.
What else is there to complain about? Oh yes, the regular feature of my blog whining (I mean, commentary) is none other than Greg House, who keeps me chock-full of material on his constant self-mutilation due to his skin allergy. His latest thing is to play with Bryony's toys and hide them all over the house. And he gnaws on his skin, on my pillow, right in my ear, every night, until I kick him out of the bed. A girl's gotta get her sleep, if nothing else.
1 comment:
Hope the rest of your week went better. I can identify with a lot of what you said, especially not being up to being a mom on certain days. Max is with my in-laws from today til Wed. a.m. and I feel alternately sad that he's not around and guilty for being happy to have time to do whatever I want - something I haven't had the chance to do in 2.5 years (well, not for more than 2-3 hours at a time, that is).
All I can say is, "This, too, shall pass." I have to remind myself that this is a season in life and not forever. Hang in there, the job will come, the ability to clean will come (or the acceptance of what you can get done will come) and these days will become a distant memory.
Post a Comment