Words. Words. Words. I’m up to my eyeballs in words: editing, writing, note-taking, developing. New projects are on the horizon. Current projects are clamoring for attention, competing with each other to get a piece of me.
It’s late and I’m so very tired. It was a wordy day, so I’ll share only a photograph.
“House School” is the delight of the moment. I gather from chatting with another second-grade dad, that it’s not just Lucas’s new play routine. Sounds like lots of second graders are playing school at home, teaching lessons, leading circle time, and saying verses. It manifested for us at home just three days ago. Ian and Asher were the first pupils to attend “House School,” as it’s known here. They had so much fun and raved about it. Lucas was thrilled to have found a game that the whole family could play—especially given that he gets to be in charge of it!
Last night I got to participate in House School a little, sitting in on a drawing lesson with my three boys. Lucas had cut out paper dragon shapes and we all got to color our dragons. I thought it was beautifully fitting for the feast day of St. Michael, which Wikipedia told me is traditionally held on September 29. Our four colorful dragons now adorn our Nature Table.
Something about this time of year has me feeling pulled in two directions in time. I’m wistful about our lazy summer evenings, which featured walks through our neighborhood, slow outdoor dinners with friends (regardless of the day of the week), sleeping until the sunlight streamed boldly through our bedroom window. I’m also feeling wistful about the little people I used to live with: Lucas as a younger boy, Asher as a baby.
At the same time, I’m eagerly looking forward to the joys of the autumn season: a trip to Apple Hill, the school Harvest Faire, our Thanksgiving Away (which hopefully will happen in November). I’m looking forward to some changes that will hopefully make us happier. The boys are growing and their capacity to adapt is greater. We’re thinking about moving them into the same bedroom together later this fall for several reasons: to promote their bonding, to bring their sleeping schedules into alignment with each other, to allow Asher to detach a little more from his nighttime dependence on us, and to allow me to set up shop in Lucas’s bedroom. I long for an office with a door again!
I also have lots of groovy, creative projects in mind, and keep envisioning more. I went to a craft night last night with other school parents and we sat around crafting, drinking wine, and chatting and it was lots of fun. These people are seriously creative! I worked on needle-felting mice for the Children’s Store at the Harvest Fair. I’m hoping to try my hand a soap-making soon, and I’ve been looking forward to taking a drop spinning class with a local teacher/Waldorf mama extraordinaire: Jennifer Tan of Syrendell.
I picked up a new editing project yesterday. You really never know where work is going to come from! This one came to me via my godmother and looks like it will be low-key, with a relaxed pace. It’s time to try lining up some winter projects. I’m pretty well booked through November-December. Staying on top of the marketing is always challenging and yet always worthwhile. I would like to add some new clients into the fold; some new regulars would be lovely.
Call me crazy, but I’m planning an equinox celebration with some dear friends for Tuesday night. I’ve been exchanging emails and making plans with another mommy who will help me bring this together. (She is amazingly creative and a culinary wiz—just exactly the kind of person you need when you’re up to your neck in deadlines and still think it’s a good idea to throw a party.)
It’s not uncommon for me to create a ceremony or holiday celebration at the last minute; I sometimes wake up in the morning and decide we must have a wonderful, wholesome, festival dinner that night, which involves a lot of crazy scrambling around, digging in cupboards and running to the grocery store. I’m a great one for vision, but not much for planning.
I’m feeling good that I’ve started two whole days ahead this time!
We’re thinking beef and pumpkin stew, served in a pumpkin, of course! Hearty greens and other harvest sides will grace our table. We’re planning a lovely craft for the children to enjoy. And my, oh, my! How do caramel apples sound to you? Are you drooling yet?
I can belong now to myself
And shining spread my inner light
Into the dark of space and time.
Toward sleep is urging all creation,
But inmost soul must stay awake
And carry wakefully sun’s glowing
Into winter’s icy flowing.
—Rudolf Steiner (verse for the week of September 8–14)
It is now the end of Week 12 of summer vacation. Week 12. Twelve. Did you hear me? TWELVE.
One more week (and a long weekend) to go.
I think, all in all, I’m in better shape than I was this time last year. This time last year I was ready to throw myself under a bus. Seriously. It wasn’t pretty.
During this circle around the sun, we have had a good summer, a busy summer, and one with more balance. Together we have had
· evening walks
· feasts of summer fruits
· barbecues
· creek play
· rambling in the woods
· swimming in lakes, rivers, and backyard pools
· a trip to San Francisco and Oakland
· a zoo visit
· museum visits
· glorious day-long brunches with friends at home
I’ve had plenty work to keep me occupied; it keeps my brain from turning to mush and eases my career worries.
Lucas and Asher have been occupied more this summer, too. I adore my children and think they are brilliant and fascinating (see this blog for evidence), but I know that we all benefit from having experiences away from one another. I don’t claim to have achieved balance in parenting/work, but it is definitely a major goal. Something I continue to strive for.
Asher has made friends and looks forward to playing with his kids now at Ring-A-Rosies preschool. He has even made it through a handful of full days, when I didn’t pick him up until 4 p.m. due to serious deadlines, and he napped pretty well on a little mat like the other kids.
Lucas has had a bunch of wonderful experiences with summer day camps and other activities (like pottery and soccer). Some weren’t so great (mainly the Fair Oaks Recreation and Park District day camp due to the “Thriller” incident) and we probably won’t be trying those again. But others were awesome. He is hoping to do more of the Science Adventures camps and Aquatics camps next year. The Effie Yeaw nature camps, though only a half-day, are lots of fun and Lucas feels really comfortable there. Plus he gets to hike the trails in the American River Parkway. He has done some amazing art projects that I wouldn’t have even considered doing with him because they are outside my experience. I wish that the less expensive camps had worked out to be winners; naturally it was the more expensive camps that Lucas really took to.
Next week, there is no day care. I’ll have to beg, borrow, and steal moments in which to work, when others can run herd on my little darlings. Grandma? Grandma?
I just can’t help but feel, now that kids all over town are back in school, that perhaps 13 weeks off during the summer might be a little excessive. It is very intense living with a choleric 7-year-old and a 2-and-a-half-year-old toddler!
Especially if one is just the tiniest, wee bit choleric, oneself.
Despite lots of working for me (12 hours) and Lucas’s case of folliculitis caused by prolonged exposure in the lake last week, we managed to have some lovely moments this weekend.
* early-morning walk by myself
* clay play
* dinner out with Papa and Grandma S for her birthday
* yummy BLT sandwiches made by Ian
* watching Asher dance and sing, “I like my Mom and Dad”
* an evening walk through the neighborhood all together
* finding our first green and brown acorns of the season on the ground
* watching nimble Lucas leaping to and fro across the drainage ditch (and hoping he wouldn’t fall)
* a quick trip to the thrift store for school clothes for Lucas: four pairs of pants (including two lined pairs) and nine shirts (both short and long-sleeved, one sweater, and a hoodie) for $50
* a quick trip to the used book store to recirculate a bunch of old books and find new ones for the whole family: five novels for me and Ian, five or six books for the kids
* playing a new game Asher invented called “shopping,” in which an old computer keyboard became his cash register, and flat Lego pieces were dollars. He’s pretty great about making change.
* a tad of reading Torpedo Juice, by Tim Dorsey and Eat, Pray, Love by Elizabeth Gilbert
I bucked up my courage the other night and wrote to my uncle, the publisher. His company is small but very well regarded, a leader in the field. I told him I was in the market for DE work—higher level stuff—and attached my résumé and client testimonials. I have worked for his company before as a copyeditor on two fascinating books. I loved the work, but it didn’t pay well. I’m hoping that stepping up in the editing hierarchy will land me better-paying, more rewarding work. And damn-good experience.
It’s time to ask more directly for what I want. Perhaps asking my uncle is a trifle chicken, but everyone uses their connections in life, right? I have the credentials and the talent and the moxie.
He replied immediately, which was very gratifying. He has never before replied immediately when I sent strictly personal emails.
“…we’re just starting to transmit Spring ’10 projects, and so I’m very glad you wrote. With all your editorial experience and your classics background (remember that?), I think you could be just the right person for some of those projects. I’ll pass along your materials to our managing editor and figure out which of the upcoming projects might work. ”
I love the idea of getting projects on the books for 2010.
1990 … August 11 … There was a party in Steve and Bryn’s parents’ backyard. There were friends and food, performances, and Greek garb. The stars were out and falling in showers; we drank honey wine and ate grapes. It was a magical beginning for the most magical relationship of my life. Later, in a new town there was a dorm room with pink cabbage roses and white lace on the bedclothes.
1991 … Our long-distance love affair involved letter-writing every day and much driving between Sacramento and Santa Barbara. We shared precious walks on the beach and expensive phone bills. We enjoyed Ren Faire adventures with new friends and poor breathing. Sacramento pulled me home, but I couldn’t come back yet.
1992 … I started a new life in Berkeley. Ancient Greek and Latin studies for me, Bio and sciences for you. The distance didn’t hurt so bad and we saw each other much more often. We designed rituals and challenged ourselves. We studied magic of many types.
1993 … We broke up, kinda. You needed to leave and see something new. We got back together after a wild run through the snow. You worked construction and sold your car, and we drove to LA together to put you on a plane to Sweden. I wrote a book for you and kissed you goodbye. Later, I left for Scotland. We met again on foreign soil and walked through a candlelit cemetery. We were handfasted one eerie night on a glowing beach by the North Sea. We had the sweetest, loneliest Christmas together in Scotland.
1994 … You surprised me on a Friday evening by winging your way across two countries via trains, planes, buses, and automobiles. We got engaged accidentally when you knocked on my door at midnight. We traveled across Europe together, sleeping in a tent, in trains, in hostels, mostly apart. We argued and figured out how to work together. We graduated college and I lived with you and your father for a while. We made Reggae on Sunday mornings. We didn’t know what we wanted in life, but we knew we wanted to be together.
1995 … We finally moved into our own apartment together! It was perfect. P Street friends and many shared meals were fun. We were married on June 3 and it was so good. We honeymooned in Oregon. You were getting your teaching credential. I lost a job and got an internship. We had no dough for six months; we lived on kisses, I think.
1996 … I began working at Prima—a lot. You taught a grade 1-2 class full of disadvantaged kids. It hurt and you wanted to bring them all home with you because they weren’t getting enough love, or food, or dental care. I fell in love with you that much more.
1997 … We became fencers, briefly. We ran at Hiram Johnson High School track together. You attended classes at Rudolf Steiner college, thinking that teaching Waldorf kids would be better. Then you started working with technology and we got a little richer. We locked our TV in the garage and didn’t watch it for two years.
1998 … We worked hard, long hours and saved every dime we could. We lived at my grandmother’s house on 15th Avenue. We went to Hawaii with my parents and the house almost burned down. Technology was better for you in some ways and worse in others.
1999 … We hosted a wedding in grandma’s backyard. We bought our home in June! We attended Burning Man for the first time, but just for two days and it blew our minds. We started planning for more trips to the playa. We were happy and free to move and pursue our interests. I learned to weave. You studied a lot.
2000 … We froze at Burning Man and nearly lost our shelter! Prima layoffs happened and some friends were affected. We built a geodesic dome in our backyard from scratch. We talked about kids and I was scared. We went to New Mexico with your dad to visit family, and then struck out on our own to explore. We read lots and lots of books.
2001 … We went to Burning Man with many friends. Some boots talked to you. Weird times followed, including 9/11 and a pregnancy. We waded through hormones and anxiety together. Would we be decent parents together? What if our marriage changed? We left Kaiser for midwife care instead. We both dreamed we were having a girl. We madly painted fish onto bedroom walls.
2002 … Birthing classes, new friends. Oops, didn’t finish the class because on May 1st, Lucas baby arrived. Everything changed. I turned 30. This year was hard and lonely for both of us, but also exquisitely beautiful and extraordinary. We didn’t sleep. We struggled to find our places in this new three-part family. I worked from home. Your high-paying job laid you off when Lucas was 4 months old. Now what? You investigated autism.
2003 … You went to work for TAC helping disabled kids. I was so proud of you! My employer asked me to come back and I got so, so sad. We employed a nanny until we realized that I couldn’t be away from home for 55 to 60 hours per week. I left in August after 6.5 years and went freelance. Freelance? What the heck does that mean? We struggled and little Lucas toddled. We visited Hawaii again, with a baby in backpack.
2004 … We took two-year old Lucas to Burning Man and he got pneumonia! We left, feeling like the worst parents ever. He started preschool across the street. You taught little kids to talk, both at work and at home. And we felt so grateful to have this perfect child.
2005 … I started writing on LiveJournal, recording our daily victories and struggles. It helped me stay connected and made me saner. You untangled many knots at work. I began making more money freelancing and we started feeling comfy again. Lucas attended Treasure Garden preschool after some weird hiccups. He spent his days playing outdoors. He was wild.
2006 … Lucas turned 4 and we looked around and thought, “Oh, weren’t we going to have another baby?” And then suddenly there was a bun in the oven. We joined the PSA and the three of us went to Burning Man for one last fling before baby. Mommy got depressed. Lucas started kindergarten. We waited. You worked on a master’s degree.
2007 … Asher arrived in a rush. Oops! We had a baby in the shower. I got sick. Really sick. Hospital and terror. You were mommy and daddy to our kids for a short time. And then there was a slow healing, with a newborn at my side. He eventually got the OK to breastfeed and then I proceeded to fatten him up. You and I both suffered from a little PTSD, I think. Dreamy, sleepy days and nights dominated that first year.
2008 … Asher turned 1. I finished my textbook. You became an executive. Weird. Lucas turned 6 and went to first grade! I experienced my slowest year ever, which gave me lots of time with the kids, but it was also worrisome. We worked hard, ceaselessly supporting this family of four. You were unflagging and lovely and became a brand-new BCBA. I didn’t sleep enough.
2009 … Stressful work for you, easier times for me. Lucas turned 7 and we threw him the most amazing birthday party. Asher learned to talk and made us laugh every day. We lean on each other, as we always have. We love faithfully and intensely.
To Be Continued …
In my work I am finding myself saying yes a lot lately. This is a good thing on many levels: It’s good for my pocketbook, good for my reputation, good for my clients, good experience, good opportunities to learn new things and grow my skills, and theoretically it’s good for my own sense of satisfaction and confidence levels. Right?
So how come I privately feel so inadequate? I’m saying yes and nervously fretting about whether I’ll actually be able to pull it off. I know, sticking my neck out is essential for growth to occur. As a freelancer who works alone, I’m not sure if I have more or fewer opportunities to impress people and learn new skills. Perhaps more, if I continue to say yes. It’s not exactly like I have a prescribed job description. I take on the jobs I want (or in lean times, whatever I can get). Every job is different. Every client is different and has different expectations of me. This is a source of steady, low-grade anxiety for me, and it means I have to learn in a vacuum by myself, but it’s also an opportunity. AFOFG.
There are times when I CRAVE security, crave the feeling of knowing exactly what I’m doing (which partly explains why I continue to edit strategy guides). I suppose this insecurity is just a part of being a self-employed business owner. There are no clear maps to follow. So I suppose there are no real limits.
P.S. I hate it when my angst aligns with my zodiac sign.
Remember those three books about the Middle East I’ve been copyediting lately? Well, I finished Lebanon on Friday, just in the nick of time to make it to NoNo’s graduation.
Today, I received an offer to work on another title from the same publisher. I wrote back and asked for more money. I thanked the editor for the project offer and explained I do have time in my schedule and would like to take it on. I then told her my normal hourly rate, reminded her of my excellent and reliable service, experience, and timeliness, and said I hoped I could continue taking on their projects on a regular basis. I took a gamble in asking for this raise. I don’t exactly have offers of work coming out my ears right now. My “busy season” hasn’t started yet and I have big ol’ bills to pay.
Here’s hoping my gamble pays off.
Asher is away with his grandmother for a few hours, probably for the first time. I am alone in the house and I’m supposed to be working because I have this little book to edit called Lebanon.
I don’t want to be all thinky, though. I just want to go outside in the coolish morning and sit in the hot tub in the shade. I want to drink shameless morning cocktails all by myself. Or with a shameless friend, who is over 21 and doesn’t call me “mommy.”
I have recently discovered my inner drinker. My children helped me find her; she was locked deep within me and yearning to come out into the sunshine.
I didn’t truly discover the sacrament of coffee until Lucas was a baby. I didn’t truly discover the medicinal use of alcohol until this year.
Call me Mother of the Year.
OK. Back to Lebanon, where everything is peaceful and tolerant.
