Spring Cleaning!

No, you're not in the wrong place. I just FINALLY went ahead and changed my blog template to a free one I downloaded from Blogger Templates.

I don't know if I'll keep this one or not. I really do want a custom header, and I'm not sure how good it would look with this layout. There's already a lot going on. But I wanted to at least take the plunge and make a change.

Oh, the scent of change is invigorating!

Friended John Adams

I'm not a big Facebook person. I think I've been on for a year? Maybe more? I thought I would get addicted, but I vastly overestimated how much free time I have to play online. And I also vastly overestimated how much I would be interested in stalking people from my previous lives. Sure I looked up a few high school crushes or long-lost college friends ... but there weren't that many.

So yeah, I'm not on Facebook very much. But this morning I did get a request to friend John Adams, who is looking for "Networking," and whose status since last Tuesday is, "Facts are stubborn things; and whatever may be our wishes, our inclinations, or the dictates of our passions, they cannot alter the state of facts and evidence." And I accepted the request.

His employer is United States Congress, and he is a fan of Statler and Waldorf.

It's "inside jokes" like this that make me value social media.

Fabulous Footwear

Once again, I'm vowing to myself that I will make myself buy a few "accent" pieces for my wardrobe that are vibrant, attention-grabbing, and say something about my personality.

The other day, I was walking to class and my eye was immediately drawn to the woman in front of me. She was so chic and fashionable, from her short, sleek haircut to her amazing boots: knee-high, shiny boots that were an energizing, flamboyant orange. I wanted her entire outfit.

Okay, not that exact outfit because that orange would just make me look even more pale (if possible). But it did remind me that everything in my closet is a very safe, neutral shade. My pants are all black, gray, and brown. My sweaters are maroon, green, or blue. For some reason, I've bought wayyy too many maroon pieces lately. Like maybe I'm in the store thinking, "What color don't I have? I'll try maroon!" And then I get home and realize that I've done that EVERY TIME I've gone shopping for the past year.

For the most part, I'm good with basic, coordinating pieces. I don't like to spend a lot of money on clothes, so I want interchangeable clothes that will work with many different items and last a long time without going horribly out of style.

But I need to add in a few more vivacious pieces, too. Mixed in with all the gray, brown, black, blah, a scarf here or some boots there that proclaim to the world, "You might think I'm staid and predictable. But you can't be entirely sure ...."

I did go out on a limb a few years ago and buy some hot pink kitten heels when a nearby shoe store was going out of business. I thought they were wild and crazy and I would only wear them once. I only convinced myself to do it because they were 50% off. But I wear them quite a bit (or I will, when I'm finally convinced it's Spring for good), and it's made me buy more pink, rather than maroon, so I have an excuse to wear the shoes.

Next time I go clothes shopping, my goals will be: no maroon, and make people wonder about what I have hidden up my super-fashionable sleeve.

Spring Forward to Darkness

I feel like I'm the only one who isn't happy about the time change this past weekend. Everyone else I've talked to is excited about having more light in the evenings. It's a sign of Spring—longer days filled with sunshine and warmth.

I'm all good with the sunshine and warmth part. But I really liked it better when it got light early, and dark early. Last summer, when Eleanor was a year old, I finally accepted that I would have to work out first thing in the morning if I wanted any kind of guarantee of exercising on a regular basis. I ran a lot in the mornings leading up to my half-marathon on November 1. I completely fell off the exercise wagon through the holidays.

In mid-January, I started exercising again (although not running—it was still much too cold and snowy for that!). I've generally been working out 5 days/week, 4 weekdays and Sunday. Keith leaves for work around 7 o'clock, so I try to get up at 6 and be finished working out by 7. I figure even if Eleanor's awake by then, she can talk to herself for a few minutes while I shower and get dressed.

So yeah, 6 o'clock. Before time change, I was really enjoying the fact that the sun was coming up with me. I felt so much more cheerful when I would go down into the basement to work out, and come up to be greeted by a bright new day, already in progress.

But now, it's still the middle of the night before, during, and after my morning workout. Surely, that must be the reason why I've been completely unable to drag myself out of bed and missed every workout this week. I had gotten a glimpse of life in the sun, and I miss it.

On the other end of the day, for me, early darkness is better. When it was dark by 7:30, it was perfect for putting Eleanor to bed. I would close her blinds and "blackout" curtains, turn off the lamp, and the room would be perfectly dark. She would settle in against the curve of my shoulder, happy to fall asleep with the knowledge that the excitement of the day was done.

But now, I go through the usual ritual, turn off the lamp ... and her room is still lit by daylight seeping in under the blinds and through the curtains. It keeps her alert, looking around at her books and toys and ready for the playing to continue.

I know that, eventually, the mornings will become light at 6 o'clock. And by that time, it will also be warm enough that I'm excited to get up and out for an early run. But the early evening light isn't going away anytime soon. Maybe I need better blackout curtains .... or I can convince Eleanor to wear those night sleep masks?

March Madness

In the past week or so (probably because all of the snow piles have FINALLY melted), I've been noticing that quite a few people still have their outdoor Christmas lights up.

This isn't very unusual. Living in a city where the exterior of the house disappears behind snow from January-March, many people wait until warmer weather to take down their lights.

No, what bothers me is that they're still TURNING THEM ON. It's the middle of March! I can definitely understand waiting until the end of January/early February to take down the Christmas decorations. Winter can be so cold and bleak after the holidays, and I also like to maintain some semblance of holiday cheer for as long as possible.

But it's March. The weather is warming up, early Spring flowers are poking through the ground, buds are on the trees. We don't need holiday cheer anymore! We have Spring.

Stop turning on your holiday snowflake lights or red and green bushes. Even better, go out this weekend (when it's in the balmy 50s) and take them down.

Less Stressful 2nd Semester

Over Spring Break, I've been thinking a lot about how this semester is going. So far, I'm happy with it.

I'm teaching two classes, instead of only one like last semester. They are both new classes for me, so all new textbooks, assignments, tests, and lesson preparation. There's also more than double the grading, because the one class is higher level than I've taught before and the students are required to do a lot more writing.

And yet, I can definitely tell that my stress level is significantly lower than it was last semester. All throughout the Fall, I always felt like I was behind. I never felt ready for class, I was uncertain about all of my decisions, and constantly worried that class would be unhelpful or boring, or both!

It's amazing what a difference it makes to have one semester under my belt. I'm much more willing to go with the flow. I don't feel like I need to have every lesson planned out to the minute, weeks in advance. I have more confidence in my teaching, grading, and general subject knowledge.

Last semester, I really wasn't convinced that I was a Professor. But now, it's starting to grow on me.

Spring Break!

I've been on Spring Break this week, for the first time in many years. And it's been fantastic!

I actually think I've been busier than I am during a normal work week. On Monday, Eleanor and I went to the zoo with Ashley and her daughter Noe (who turns 1 in April). Eleanor loves them both, and talks about them constantly, so she was very excited. My sister Erin was also headed to the zoo that day with her husband and son, so we hung out for a bit, too. The weather has finally turned (hopefully for good, although I'm sure we still have one big snow left). We had a great time walking around in the warm spring air.

Part of the reason that this week has been so nice is that I still did have a few hours of childcare during the days, so I could get some things done. Tuesday morning Eleanor and I went to the library for story hour and some playtime afterward. That afternoon I went to the coffee shop for a few hours and worked on our federal tax return (exciting!).

Wednesday morning Melissa came again to watch Eleanor and I finished the federal taxes and did a bit of grading. Wednesday afternoon, Keith's mother, Karen, arrived for a mid-week visit since she is on Spring Break from her Kentucky community college job, as well. From Wednesday afternoon to Friday morning, we all went outside to blow bubbles and take walks on many occasions. Karen also gave me some wonderful, leisurely alone time to go shopping,
get a little bit more work done, and read in peace and quiet.

Today, we all ate lunch and then Karen got Eleanor down for her nap while I cleaned up. Then we said our good-byes. So by one o'clock, Eleanor was napping, the house was (relatively) clean, and I got to sit and put my feet up for a bit. Karen and Keith's brother Nick passed each other on the highway during the afternoon, as Nick arrived around 5:30 tonight to spend the weekend. Right now Eleanor is in bed, and Keith and Nick and I are relaxing in the basement. They're watching college basketball, and I'm trying to catch up on a few things that were neglected this week (aka blogging).

Even though it's been busy, it still feels like a break because everything I did was what I chose, and pretty much on my schedule. I feel re-energized and ready for the rest of the semester. I don't actually have any lesson plans for this coming week ready, but there's time for that on Sunday evening.

I'm ready for summer vacation!

The Benefits of a Family Photographer

As I mentioned yesterday, we went to the Newport Aquarium with Eleanor a few weeks ago. But it wasn't just the three of us; Keith's parents, and his sister Jessi and brother-in-law Jeremy (aka "Uncle Hot") came, too.

Other than just her being a generally nice, funny person, there's one big advantage to hanging out with Jessi: she likes to take pictures, and lots of them. She has the same camera that we do, but has multiple lenses to get the perfect shot. At first, Keith was also taking pictures. But I think he only took less than 10. Jessi was snapping away, here there and everywhere, and it was easy to put the camera away and relax.

We knew that there would be plenty of beautiful pictures of the trip, so we didn't have to worry about it. We just did our best to keep Eleanor happy and enjoy the moment with her. She flitted from one adult to the other, soaking in all the attention and the fact that there was always a fresh pair of arms, ready to hold her. If anyone got too far away (particularly Jessi), Eleanor would call out for him or her, "Jessi? Are you?" until the wayward relative was located.

Here is just one of the many great shots that Jessi got that day. A talented photographer for a sister-in-law is a wonderful thing! Thanks, Jessi.

Visit to the Aquarium

A few weeks ago, we went to the Newport Aquarium when we were visiting Keith's family in Northern Kentucky. I'm always torn about when to do certain activities with Eleanor. On the one hand, I want her to experience as many things as possible right now. On the other hand, I know the longer we wait, the more she will understand and enjoy it.

I think going to the aquarium at a year and a half was a good midway point. She was old enough to see the fish, turtles, sharks, penguins, etc. and follow them through the water. She wasn't old enough to care about stopping and reading any extraneous material.

Throughout the trip, we got many excited "ooh!"s out of Eleanor. What I really need to do is to get it on video, so you can truly understand just how excited Eleanor gets about, well, everything. Her mouth becomes a big "O," and when she says "oooh," she does it with her entire body. She forces the air out through sheer force of wonderment. You just have to smile.

We had talked about going to the aquarium when it first opened over 10 years ago. But it was rather pricey, and it never seemed worth it when we were just as happy with less expensive activities. Now I'm glad that we waited, and I got to see it for the first time with Eleanor.

Possibly for the last time, as well; as I mentioned, it's overpriced. And there were So. Many. People. It was so crowded and difficult to maneuver through the pathways. Oh, and everything was a pathway. There were very few large open areas where one could just back away from the flow of visitors and just take a breather. No matter where I was, I was always in someone else's way.

Where was I? Oh yes. Eleanor loved it, and it was all worth it.

Primetime Meta-critical

I recently watched an old episode of "Bones" where the lead character makes no secret of the fact that she despises TV. She makes a comment about how she has time for many other activities (including deep sea diving) because she doesn't waste time on watching TV. She doesn't have a TV in her house and is happy not knowing anything about popular TV shows, or about pop culture in general.

My first response, as usual, was to feel guilty. Why do I watch TV?!? My life would be so much more exciting if I didn't! But once I thought it through, I decided that—in most cases—it's not a fair comparison. If I didn't watch an episode of "Bones" every now and again or laugh with Keith through "Modern Family" or "The Office," would I be out deep sea diving or traveling the world?

No. TV doesn't prevent me from taking up fabulous, exciting hobbies. General lack of time and disposable income are the culprits there. Most of our time is spent around the house, unless we take advantage of the kindness of family or pay handsomely for a babysitter. Not to mention, I like spending time with Eleanor when she's awake, and she's not allowed to watch TV.

The part that does concern me a bit, though, is what could be accomplished at home in the 30 minutes to 1 hour of watching TV here and there. Could I be writing the next bestselling romantic comedy? Finishing a baby blanket for a friend, or getting to those dusty scrapbooks that haven't been touched for 2 years or more—unfinished scrapbooks of events that took place more than 5 years ago?

I'm still not convinced, though. When I want to watch TV, it's because I don't want to think or do. I just want to be still for a bit. As much as I might complain about the undue influence of TV, I will agree that there's a time and place for it.

I'm not really going to worry until I turn down a chance for a fabulous weekend ski trip or visit to Paris because a "House" marathon is on that weekend.

Quiet Evening

It's been a quiet, restful evening. We went to my parents' house this afternoon for my sister's birthday party. Ergo, we ate well, celebrated, and didn't have any dinner dishes!

When we got home, I put Eleanor to bed right away. Keith wasn't feeling very well, so by the time I was finished singing lullabies to Eleanor, Keith was also tucked into bed. I (with the pets' company) have been on my own since about 8 o'clock.

I have to admit, I've enjoyed it. Usually, I have a conflict on Sunday evening. On the one hand, I want to spend time with Keith and enjoy the waning hours of the weekend. On the other hand, I'm always tempted to try and run around in circles, getting done all of my list items that I hadn't gotten to earlier—or at least as many as possible.

But tonight, no such dilemma! I've been washing clothes, folding laundry, balancing the checkbook, and blogging of course! All while enjoying a nice glass of red wine and watching a few Season One episodes of "Bones."

I hope Keith wakes up tomorrow, feeling better. And I will be happy to take it easy tomorrow night, relaxing on the couch together. Especially since I got so much done tonight!

How Surreal

In the James Cameron interview on "Fresh Air," when talking about dreams he also said that surrealists directly translated their dreams onto canvas. That was their goal.

This makes me want to go back and give surrealism another try. I've never been a big fan, really. I'm not one of those people that argues surrealists paint such wacky images because they can't paint realistically. It's just that, generally, that style of painting has never appealed to me.

Who sees clocks melting in the sun in their dreams? For me, the reason dreams are so strange is because of the elements only I know are out of place. That whole, "Okay, so it started out in our house. But actually, it wasn't anything like our real house. It was bigger and the furniture was all different and we lived in California. But in the dream I just knew it was our house." But if I tried to paint that (putting aside the issue that I have no talent for painting whatsoever), it would just look like a big house in California. Out of my personal context, the weirdness just wouldn't be there.

On the other hand, I do really like Magritte's work, and he is also considered a surrealist. To me, his work does a better job of emphasizing the surrealist aspect of dreams. The fact that, in a dream, everything seems perfectly logical. It's only after one wakes up and tries to describe the dream that one realizes how odd it is to have an eye in the middle of one's crepe.

Image credit: Wikipedia

The Possibilities of Dreams

I heard a very interesting interview with James Cameron on NPR's "Fresh Air" the other week. He was talking about how many of his best ideas for Avatar came to him in dreams. He then mentioned in passing that many children can fly in their dreams, but adults typically can't.

What does this say about the infinite possibilities of childhood, and the restraints we, or circumstances, place on us as adults? To a child that believes in Santa Claus, Harry Potter, and the monster under the bed, it's an easy thing to dream of flying off to Neverneverland or on her own personal adventures. Anything could happen at any point in time.

It makes me wonder what I dream about these days, if I even know. Do I dream about work? Sometimes I know I do. Do I dream about cleaning? Or walking the dog? Surely I dream up unusual situations too, right? I might not fly, but maybe I am side-by-side with Matt Damon, destroying our enemies with nothing other than hardened ninja fists and razor-sharp minds. If I kept a dream journal, would I find it elucidating or depressing?

The comparison also makes me think about why we get nostalgic, particularly as Keith and I are coming up on our 10-year college reunion. I loved being a college student, and almost everything about being on a college campus. I loved taking classes, learning new things, eating from the cafeteria and not having to cook or wash dishes. I loved meeting new people and, really, the newness of everything—knowing that new experiences were always just around the corner.

But I am very content with my life now, too. I have a wonderful husband, daughter, and extended family. I feel incredibly blessed and fulfilled. So why do I get so nostalgic, thinking about the good old days?

I've decided that, for me personally, sometimes it's hard to admit that the possibilities of our lives are dwindling as we get older. When I was 22 and a senior in college, I could do ANYTHING, and I could do it by age 30. When was I going to get married and have kids? Where would I settle down? What kind of adventures would I have? Just like in dreams, the possibilities were endless. One day, I would imagine myself as a world traveler with no permanent home, just a duffel bag on my back. The next, I would sit in class and imagine my dream house, right down to the kitchen cabinet hardware and workout room paint color. I could see diametrically opposed possibilities as equally appealing, because they each appealed to a different side of me.

But now I have a house, and a career, and a family. I don't get to wonder about whether I'll travel or marry or have kids, because it's all been done. I feel like my daydreams now revolve around paying off students loans or the home equity line of credit. Sometimes I feel like my dreams are smaller, because many of the big questions in my life already have answers.

So I don't think I feel nostalgic for the actual college years. I miss the possibility inherent in the years after college. Much of which has been replaced by actual fact.

How do I recapture that sense of possibility? Maybe I'm too short-sighted. Maybe I need to be thinking more about Maslow's Hierarchy of needs, and instead of looking at concrete, external milestones (marriage, children, house, career), I need to focus on the internal milestones. There's still PLENTY of potential for personal growth. Maybe I should be fantasizing about finally writing (and getting published!) a novel. Being happy with myself on a regular basis. More traveling, to further reaches of the Earth. Learning a new language, or picking up a new hobby.

Maybe I will learn to fly in my dreams.

Yes, Seriously Mommy!

Eleanor is nearly 19 months old now, and talking up a storm. It's been fascinating to observe as she learns more and more words, and adds them to her working vocabulary.

The earliest words were very elementary: "Mama" and "Dada" and "eat" or "baba" (baby). Then she started to get into animal sounds. Even now, she still says "woof" when talking about the dog, or "meow" and points to the cabinet where we keep the cat treats, indicating she wants to call the kitten. She also does pretty decent elephant and monkey imitations, even though we don't have any of those wandering about the house.

And of course, there's the whole category of sounds that I'm pretty sure are words, in Eleanor-land, but I can't always interpret them. Sometimes it's because it's a word I haven't taught her; one of the earliest was "touch" because her regular caregiver always talked about "touch gentle" with the animals. Since I had never used that particular phrase, it took me a few days of her pointing to the pets and saying "utch!" before I made the connection. It probably took me a week before I realized that "gogo" was actually "cocoa," as my sister Erin calls it. Keith and I call it "hot chocolate." Currently I haven't yet figured out what "nah-ni" or "ase" is, so if you have any guesses feel free to pass them along.

I am fascinated by the fact that, before learning new words, she sometimes goes back and refines the words she already knows. "Baba" disappeared a long time ago, to be replaced by "baby." Just this week, she has started using "Mommy" and "Daddy" instead of "Mama" and "Dada." She knows at least 4 ways to say "no" (no, nope, head shake, and uh-uh), and uses them much more often than those other words—: yeah, yes, yuppa (her own invention), yup, and the affirmative head shake.

So she is using a lot of the words that I would expect a 1-1/2 year old to say, wherever she learned them. But other ones come out of the blue. Her hand got stuck the other day when I was dressing her and she looked at me and said, "Thumb!" When did she learn "thumb"? I suppose that my being sick lately is the cause of her learning "tissue," with pretty good pronunciation. But definitely the biggest surprise came the other night when we were in the kitchen before dinner.

Keith was telling me that his longest night run (sometimes he goes out after Eleanor is in bed, so heading out the door a bit after 7pm) is going to be 14 miles.

I shook my head. "Seriously?"

Suddenly, a little voice piped up. "See-oh-seely?"

Keith and I stared at Eleanor.

"Did you just say 'seriously'?" I asked.

"Yuppa," Eleanor confirmed.

Seriously.

Welcome to my Boudoir

Before Eleanor was born, we had a guest bedroom and a study. After the guest bedroom became the nursery, the study became the study/guest bedroom with a double bed squished next to the bookshelves and desk. It's not spacious, but it gets the job done.

Back when we had a guest bedroom, it was the perfect dressing room or boudoir. We could lay out workout clothes for the following morning, or start on Wednesday, packing for a weekend trip. We could stash clean laundry in there until we got around to putting it away, or sort the piles of dirty laundry. It was a much more useful space than I would have expected a guest bedroom to be.

Of course, now it's much smaller. We still have an extra room, because the study/spare bedroom is rarely used. But for whatever reason it just doesn't fill the same purpose as well. I guess the study used to collect all of the spare bits of paper and the guest bedroom used to collect clothes and bags. Now that it all ends up in the same place, chaos has ensued. Particularly during the winter, we just close off the heater vent and keep that door shut. It's too painful to look at.

Every once in a while, we'll get the time and energy to sort through everything, and put things back in their proper places. I breathe a sigh of relief and contentment at the clean, uncluttered space. And as soon as I turn around, the stuff starts accumulating again.

Other people have this problem, right? I used to think a 3-bedroom house would be the perfect size for a family of 4. But now I'm not so sure. If we don't even have the study/spare bedroom, where will the clothes and bits of paper go?

So long, dining room table!

A Chilly, Heart-warming Valentine's Day

Keith and I have never been big on celebrating Valentine's Day. I'd like to think it's because we make an effort to tell each other all the time how much we mean to each other .... but it could also possibly be because we're lazy and/or cheap. Either way, Valentine's Day has long since fallen off the radar.

Except, of course, now that we're busy working parents, it's a lot harder to spend time together. So this year, it felt like a good excuse to hang out for a few hours. I've been even worse than usual, in 2010, about scheduling our weekends full of "to-do list" items and leaving no downtime.

We got a babysitter for a few hours on Saturday afternoon. I thought of a few different potential activities and ran them by Keith. They ranged from very physical (hiking) to very non-physical (going to a movie) and in-between (ice-skating or going to a museum). I wasn't sure what Keith would want to do, since he ran 18 miles that morning, but even so it didn't really surprise me when he jumped at a chance to go hiking in the snow.

First, of course, we swung by Penn Station for some delicious, hot, greasy subs. Thereby fortified, we headed out into the great white wilderness. (Otherwise known as a local park.)

I'm trying to remember the last time I saw the ground. It's been pretty snowy here for quite some time. There was a ton of snow .... and it finally all melted for a day or so, and then it snowed again. For the past few weeks, it's just been fresh snow on top of old snow. It was snowing on Saturday, when we were hiking, and it's snowing right now. We're getting to the point where it's hard to shovel because there's nowhere to throw the snow. Ah, Cleveland winters!

I wasn't really sure how I would do with a snowy winter hike. I had suggested it because I thought Keith would enjoy it, but as I've mentioned previously, I'm always cold and longing to be warmer. But maybe it would be better on a hike because I'm expecting to be cold? Unlike sitting on the couch in the living room, when I would hope to be a little more comfortable.

And I did do better than I expected with embracing the cold. It was in the upper 20s/lower 30s, which is as balmy as one can get on a snow hike. We were pretty well bundled up. Every once in a while, a chilly gust of wind would cut through me, but for the most part, especially once we started hiking, I was fine.

One thing we had failed to take into account for a snow hike is how hard it was to find—and stick to—the trail. We had never been to the North Chagrin Reservation in the Cleveland Metroparks before, so we hadn't seen any of the trails before. Once we arrived at the park we only had an hour to hike, and wasted the first 15 minutes or so wandering around, trying to figure out if we were on the trail or not. At one point, we were walking on the frozen edges of the Chagrin River, without realizing it. As soon as Keith noticed the running water nearby, we headed back up and away from potential ice disaster.

It was a lovely, peaceful, relaxing afternoon. Sometimes we talked, but mostly we just hiked and enjoyed looking at the winter beauty of nature. I kept thinking how much Eleanor would enjoy it; however, I probably also would have fallen off the trail and rolled into the river if I were trying to carry her and hike at the same time. So maybe next year, when she can walk better in the snow, we'll go back as a family.

I'm glad we made the effort to do something for Valentine's Day. I'm sorry it was such an effort, on my part, to stop trying to get things done and just enjoy hanging out. I hope we do it again soon.

Massage!

For Christmas, my wonderful in-laws gave me a gift certificate for a nearby spa. Just a few weeks ago, I finally put it to good use for a hot stone massage.

I've always wanted a hot stone massage. It just looks so ... warm. And warm is something that I haven't been since August or so.

My massage was scheduled for Saturday afternoon. I prepared for it by bundling up. I wanted to try and maintain that warmth as long as I could. I actually wore thermal underwear under jeans and a long-sleeved t-shirt and a hooded sweatshirt and a winter coat, complete with scarf, gloves, and hat. I wanted to be warm for one afternoon, at least.

Walking in, it was just the atmosphere one would expect. Soft lighting, gentle music, and a soothing ambiance surrounded me. After 10 minutes of disrobing, I slipped under the soft, fleecy sheets on the massage table and eagerly awaited the masseuse .....

An hour later, the massage was over. I still haven't decided what I thought. I guess maybe I wanted to spend an hour in a sauna? Because I wasn't as WARM as I thought I'd be, from head to toe. Towards the end, when my back was exposed, I was actually getting a bit chilly. And you know that picture you always see (like above), where there's the rocks down a person's spine? She never did that! I wanted that.

In retrospect, it was nice and relaxing. But I guess I was expecting/hoping that the relaxation would carry over into my life for a bit. For the next week, or a few days, or the rest of the afternoon at least. Instead, I got home and Keith immediately handed over Eleanor. E and I went grocery shopping so that Keith could get the cleaning done. Back to normal life.

On the plus side, I still have $11 left on my gift certificate. So maybe I can get a mini-manicure when I'm on Spring Break in March. Even if the relaxation doesn't last very long, the nail polish is usually quite high quality!

Modern Marriage

I was listening to NPR in the car the other day, and heard a show about the Modern Marriage. It focused on the fact that, traditionally, women increased their financial stability by marrying men who were breadwinners and higher educated than themselves (because the women weren't very education to begin with). Men, on the other hand, worsened their finances by marrying and taking on that extra burden of providing for a wife and family.

However, this show was discussing that "men are increasingly likely to marry women who make more than they do, according to a new study on the changing economics of marriage." The one guest suggested that the whole idea of marriage has changed more in the past 30 years than it had in the previous 3,000. And, of course, it made me think about my own marriage.

I feel so immensely privileged to have what I consider a true partnership. Our expectations for each other are not based on traditional roles or self-serving interests (Keith, bring home the bacon!), but what is best for us, what each one desires, and—now—what is best for Eleanor.

Sometimes it frustrates me when we fall into traditional gender roles, like that he is the primary provider, and I am the primary caregiver. When we first started living together, Keith was very underpaid. During college and a few years after, I was the "breadwinner" of sorts, though not by much. Then he started getting promotions and raises and better jobs, and now he makes significantly more than I do. So when we decided to have kids, there was no real discussion of who would be working full-time, and who would be (mostly) home with the baby.

A part of me wondered: Haven't we moved past that?!? But someone has to make the money. The big difference is that, were the situation to be reversed, I don't think that Keith would have a problem staying home / working part-time to take care of Eleanor while I worked full-time. Or at least, he would have the same kind of struggles with being a "house spouse" as I do, in terms of reduced productivity and a complete lack of visible results. On the show they were talking about how hard it is for many men whose wives earn more, because the men define themselves by their jobs and their ability to provide. Once that's gone, they feel useless.

I found myself wondering whether the men were older, because I don't see that in Keith or myself at all. When we were engaged, I forced him to come to coffee shops with me and discuss "life issues" like parenting and finances and careers. We both discovered, to our surprise, that neither one of us would consider ourselves career oriented. We both just wanted to have a relatively comfortable work environment, and make enough money to enjoy our lives without work interfering. The priority is us, our family, and our friends.

Of course, writing a post called "Modern Marriage" inevitably brings up the question of whether one can actually define what defines a "modern" marriage. I am very happily married to the love of my life and my best friend. True, we've only been married 5 years, but we've been together for just over 13 years (since we were 18), and our relationship has withstood many trials. To me, our relationship works because we're partners, we talk about everything (whether we want to or not, including mea culpas), we laugh together, and we accept each other's strengths and weaknesses.

I'm grateful to all of the women (and men) who made this type of relationship possible, instead of just accepting the status quo. I'm grateful to my parents, who gave me a wonderful example of what a good, nurturing marriage looks like. I'm grateful to Keith, for being who he is and being foolish enough to think he's the lucky one in the relationship. I hope that, one day, Eleanor will be grateful to me for showing her that a Modern Marriage is whatever you want it to be, as long as you're happy and nurtured and loved.

Happy upcoming Valentine's Day!

Under the Weather

I know I've been sick a lot lately when Eleanor runs to the tissue box, takes out one tissue and holds it near her face. She then puts her lips together and makes a raspberry that sounds a lot like me, blowing my nose.

At least neither Eleanor nor Keith have caught my cold yet (fingers crossed). I hope everyone else is doing well and staying warm!

Nobody Home

I think it's particularly true on campuses that there's a lot of no man's land: random seating areas or desks for any student or faculty member that might be looking for a place to get some work done.

In particular, there's one desk that I often pass at work. Instead of being a clearly unclaimed, open-for-business study carel, it looks like it could be someone's desk. It is a good-sized desk, with drawers. Pamphlets about tutoring and internships are littered across the desk's surface. And on one corner of the desk is a phone.

This is the part that makes me wonder. It's a VOIP phone with a red light on the handset that lights up when there's unheard voicemail in this particular extension's mailbox. And, for the past several weeks, that red light has been lit every time I walk by.

I can't help but think about the unheard voicemail. Who was calling? What did he want? Does she expect an answer in a timely manner? Is there one message, or several? Is some lazy professor giving out this extension as a way to get out of contact with students?

Why is the idea of unheard voicemail so troubling to me? I think it's something akin to the idea of a tree falling in a forest. If you completed your task (the phone call), but no one is there to hear it, isn't it like you haven't accomplished anything?