Excitement Hangover and Why I Say No A Lot

I haven't had an actual hangover from drinking too much since before I had my oldest daughter.  On a wild night I might have a third glass of wine.  (Woo hoo!)  And I haven't had more than a glass and a half of wine since before I was pregnant with my youngest.  I'm still breastfeeding, and I'm not trying to get my 6 month old drunk.

But occasionally I do get excitement hangovers.  

Like the one I've got this bright and sunny summer Monday.  

My baby still sleeps in bed with me, and her little sleepy feet started kicking against my body around 6:30 this morning, and she was finally in full blown I'm awake and hungry gimme the boob mode by 7:15.  So I opened my eyes, I pulled her into me, I fed her, which allows me some time to wake up fully, and I rolled my exhausted ass out of bed, knowing I couldn't have coffee yet because I needed to pump some milk for rice cereal, and I'm not trying to give my baby coffee in her morning cereal.

Friday night my actual plan included signing up for, paying for, and beginning the arduous process of building my new website for my new business (more on this later).  Then after visiting with my husband once the kids were asleep, I added a few more things to my action plan. (I don't remember what they are now.  Needless to say, they didn't get done.)

Ah, action plans.  They are good for organizing what needs to be done.  They are not, however, fervent task masters that insist you get those things done.

Matilda just turned 6 months, and at her pediatric check up her doctor gave us the green light to begin solid foods.  (yay!)  This milestone meant we needed supplies:  high chair, cereal, spoons, bowls, and other random stuff I buy when I'm out and I can't help myself.

Instead of doing the logical, time saving, tried and true shopping that the brilliant moms do, which is to use Amazon Prime and have it all delivered two days from the doc appointment, I decided to "make a day of it."

I am on this new kick where I venture out into the world and spend my money in actual stores.  I recently read an article on how Amazon, led by the fabulously fit JK Simmons look alike Jeff Bezos, is taking over the world.


        

So?  I love Amazon.  Who cares if it takes over the world?  More convenience for me.  The problem is that I actually enjoy venturing out into the real world and interacting with real human strangers and experiencing real life through exchange, both cash and conversation.  So while I certainly still enjoy the convenience of Amazon and happily contribute to my brother's stock in the company through regular purchases (you're welcome), if I can carve out time for a shopping day, I will.  I want to contribute to physical stores in an effort to keep them around.  (I'm trying to be the change I want to see in the world.  So far so good, right?)

So I shopped.  Outside.  

I told my husband to enjoy having the day to himself taking care of all of his little projects, and I headed out with our girls for a day of shopping and lunching and starbucksing.

It was great.  We shopped, we took our time, we had a nice lunch outside at Rubio's, and we stopped at Starbucks drive thru on the way home for coffee, ("kid coffee" for Celaya, which is just steamed milk with a shot of vanilla syrup).  Matilda took a nap in the car on the way back home from Pacific Commons in Fremont to our house in Hayward, so I decided to make one more stop at Carter's to spend my $20 in rewards since the baby would now have rested energy for a bit more shopping.  I had my kids five years apart for a reason; the five year old is manageable now which frees up time and energy to devote to the 6 month old, which makes the whole two kid thing relatively painless.  Which leaves room for more fun.  And I'm all about fun.

That afternoon when we got home the heat was settling into "warm" as opposed to "dear god why don't we have an air conditioner in this inferno!?"  My husband was in the kitchen cooking chile verde for dinner, blasting salsa music.  I unloaded all our goodies and put together the high chair while the kids played on the floor.  Friends came for dinner, and we hit the pool before eating, and when the day was done and the kids were in bed, my husband and I sat up and visited over red wine.  It was a perfect Saturday.  Activity rich and full but not "busy."  There was time for sitting, time for laughing, time for closing eyes and reflecting.

Then Sunday came.  From the moment my feet hit the floor I was running.  My sister was in town, staying in a local hotel (because she has two adorable fluffy little dogs that shit and piss and bark everywhere) and we had one day to spend with her and her family (because she makes separate time for separate parts of her extended family).  So we decided on the Exploratorium in San Francisco.

We were up and out of the house by 8 AM. We arrived at the Jack London Square Ferry in time to catch the 8:55. My sister caught a later ferry and met us at the museum by 11. The kids ran, they explored, they laughed, they did cartwheels, they hugged, they cried over hurt fingers and feelings, they played and pushed and pulled and did all the things cousins are supposed to do.  We had an early dinner at Il Fornaio on Battery, not for food (the men and the children all had chicken strips and fries off the kids' menu, and my sister and I split a pizza), but for the atmosphere.  The "glass house garden" next to the fountain outside on Levi's plaza is perfect for relaxing and letting the kids play.  We all took the ferry back, and my sister and her family hung at my house until later that night.  It was a nice day.  Again, fun and full, but not busy.  For the relationship that my sister and I have (which involves some eggshells), it was a perfect day.

But now here I am exhausted.  I am so tired that the world spins a bit if I close my eyes for too long.  It's Monday.  I work Monday through Thursday until 10:30 at night.  This fatigue is unlikely to wear off until Saturday morning after a week of catching up on sleep and a full night's sleep including sleeping in on Friday night (thanks honey).




And this, this exhaustion, this catch up game, this world spinning, is why I say no a lot.

No I won't do a birthday party on one day and a day trip to Sacramento the next.

No I won't schedule my kid for dance on Monday, soccer on Tuesday, gymnastics on Wednesday, and piano on Thursday.

No I won't camp one weekend and then throw a party the next weekend.

No I won't stay up all night with friends Friday night and then plan a late night movie out with my brother the next.

I like to sit.  I like to sleep.  I like to breathe.  I like to sip a glass of red wine slowly and smile at a cute story and go to bed early.

Sometimes.  Often enough that I enjoy it, that I ensure that it is an actual part of my life and not an exception, that I don't miss it to the point of craving it.  Relaxation time.  Time to reflect.  It is essential to my soul.

My girlfriend is a full time stay at home mom who does not work outside the home at any sort of traditional income earning job, and I swear she is busier than I am.

That woman says yes to everything.

"Hey Katherine, how about kids movie night next Friday?"

"Oh, I can't.  I'm going to see Green Day with Ed."

"Katherine, how about a kids musical two Saturdays from now?"

"Dang it.  We have a birthday party that day."

"Katherine, let's go to the waterpark on Monday."

"Can't we'll be in Yosemite."

"Ooooh Katherine let's pick blackberries Tuesday afternoon with the kids."

"I just made plans to see a movie and have dinner with my mom that night."

"Have you been to the Hayward farmer's market, Katherine?  Let's go this Saturday."

"Ugh, can't this Saturday, I'm making Chili for a fundraising cookoff."

"Oh fuck Katherine show me your calendar and I'll pencil myself in!"

I kid Katherine.

I love Katherine.

And, more importantly, I understand where it comes from.

Katherine wants the world for her kids.  She wants her kids to have full, rich, fun filled lives where they explore their varying interests in sports, recreation, friends, academics, nature, travel, and anything else that is part of the world's oyster.

That alone would keep anyone busy.

In addition, she works hard to be stay actively involved in the development of her marriage (concert with Ed), an attentive daughter (dinner with mom), make time for things she enjoys personally (wine at a friends house or a night out with the ladies) and to be a good human (chili cookoff).

And good for her.  Her kids will only be little for a short time, relationships do need time and attention, and humanity does need to be saved (one cookoff at a time).

But when Monday morning rolls around and we watch our kids play at the park together, separating their tussles, mediating their arguments when they get too obnoxious to ignore, Katherine is quite frequently "tired.  So tired.  And I don't know why.  I get plenty of sleep.  I exercise.  I eat well.  I'm doing everything I am supposed to be doing.  Why am I so tired?"

I don't have any advice for Katherine on this issue.  I don't judge her.  Katherine is one of the people in my life through which I have learned that someone can be different from me without being wrong, bad, or even worthy of criticism.

I admire Katherine for all of her yesses.  I am frequently entertained by her Monday morning stories of adventures or snafus.  I enjoy our time together, and I think she is a genuinely good, giving person with a fuck of a lot on her plate.

But for all of my admiration I do not aspire to be like Katherine.

I do not want to be tired.  Let me restate that:  I actively work at being tired for as little time as possible in my life.  I abhor being tired to the point where I will leave work early when I don't have students and risk losing hourly pay so I can go home and go to bed early.  I will nap in the middle of the day.  I will "accidentally" fall asleep with my baby when I put her to bed on one of the nights I'm home.  I need rest and relaxation.  I need at least one day a week where I don't pile my kids into a car for anything, even a trip to a local park.  "Let's walk instead," I'll say.  I need downtime.  Lots of it.  I do a lot for my family and with my friends; I am regularly serving others, and I cannot serve from an empty vessel.  For me, this is how I fill my vessel:  downtime.

So I say no a lot.  And I will continue to say no when I need to, and yes whenever I can.

(And always yes to Katherine.)

Katherine finds other ways to fill her vessel.  Or her vessel remains half full (as opposed to half empty).  Katherine will figure out what works for Katherine because she's strong, she's smart, and she's capable.  And most of all, because she wants to.  Even if that means being tired a lot.

But I sure hope Ed rubs her feet at night.

Dead Batteries, Cold French Fries, and Choosing Happiness

I've been trying out this new approach to life:  love, light, open heart, open mind, unafraid.

Choose happiness.

I am working on letting go, letting goodness in, and turning away from negativity.

For more than a month now it has been going very well...

Then my day yesterday began with me yelling on the phone at my husband.  This is not a typical scene for us.  In the more than ten years now that we have been together, he and I have had maybe two handfuls of fights that involve me yelling and him trying to get through to me.

I was frustrated.

I was planning on writing a long blog post about misogyny, casual misogyny to be specific.  And whenever I get angry about men and casual misogynistic behavior, I hate to admit it, but my husband takes the blame for all men everywhere.  Suddenly everything he does is oppressive and paternalistic and standing in the way of my feminism and my feminist lessons to my daughters.

Honestly, sometimes he has actually done something wrong; it is usually lots of little things that drive me crazy, then something somewhere else unrelated fully pisses me off and I explode all over him with all the little things that I genuinely don't care about and would probably never bring up except to tease him at social gatherings.

But the misogyny article will have to wait.

I yelled.  I cried (because that's how I vent my frustrations).  I took my kids to the park.  I cooked. I cleaned.  I shopped.  I prepared lunches.  I spent time with my girls.  We read.  I packed for work:  breast pump with all the parts and pieces, check, coffee to go, snacks, and dinner, check, workbag with laptop and history papers, check.  I took the fresh flowers I had bought out of their wrapping and put them into vases.  I fed my baby.

My husband came home, and ten minutes later I headed out the door to work.  As I got to my car I realized I had forgotten my phone.

"Oh well," I thought.  "I have my laptop from which I can text and do everything I need to except make phone calls.  As long as my car doesn't break down, I have no reason to need my phone.  And my car is not going to break down.  It's virtually brand new."

So went my thinking.

I got to work early, prepped for my students, had some productive sessions, got two rounds of breast pumping done at work, and planned for a quiet evening at home writing and catching up on some household duties at the desktop computer.

Throughout the entire day I had been thinking to myself, "Apologize to your husband.  There is no room for ego and pride in your marriage." So I did. "Look at what a great job you are doing, getting so much done without any stress or anxiety.  Doing the important things first and the little things later.  Good for you."  Yes.  I am proud of my new approach to prioritizing and settling into a rhythm and routine that involves me saying no when I need to to certain things, so I can say yes to the fun stuff.  "How nice it is that we have a home we love where we all fit comfortably.  How lucky I am to have happy, healthy, smart, active, beautiful children.  How wonderful to have a husband who is my friend and wants to take this journey into happiness with me."  I am working on changing my language to include gratitude and joy instead of lack, need, and frustration and anxiety.  "Wow, look at my students, we are making really good headway on this work.  I am a really good teacher."  I believe in self confidence and positive self talk.

It's working.  (more on that later)

So my day unfolded in a very strange but positive way.  And then I walked out to my car.

I pushed the button to start my car,  the lights flickers, the engine choked, and my car died.  No lights.  No engine.  No action.  My battery was dead.  I own a 2014 Hyundai Santa Fe.  Why was my battery dead?

It was ten o'clock at night.  I was the only one at work.  The parking lot was empty.

So, a couple of months ago had this happened to me, I would have spun out on all of the evil possibilities.  Had someone rigged my battery to die?  Was someone lurking in the dark waiting for me to go back to my center and follow me in to assault me?  Was my baby okay at home?  I don't even have my phone so I don't even have a flashlight.  What do I do?

And then I would have pulled it together and figured it out.  Because that's what I've done for 38 years.

But this time I skipped all the anxiety.  I sat in my car for a moment with my owner's manual by the light of the street lamp, trying to figure out if there was anything I could do, maybe a fuse or something?

Then I packed my breastmilk back into my center to the fridge, called my roadside assistance for a battery jump, and settled in.

And I thought, "how fortunate I am to have roadside assistance.  How capable I am that I can do this myself.  How nice that I can text chit chat with my sister while I sit and wait and that my sister is a night owl and is up to chat and commiserate with me.  I am so proud that I have a capable father for my children.  I know everyone is sound asleep without a worry at my house.  Oh, I better send a text home so everyone knows I am okay just in case they wake up."

I was flooded with gratitude that things happen out of our control but we control our reactions to them.  I appreciated that this was a minor blip on a Monday night that, despite maybe a few hours of sleep lost, would really not make my life worse, and in many ways made it better.

I submitted a couple of proposals for freelance writing work while I waited.  I got a new follower on twitter!  (thanks for the hookup sis!)  And I applied for and got approved for a new 0% intro credit card with a nice high limit.  (my credit is looking up!)

Life is good.

The roadside guy showed up, figured out how to jump my car (I think he was new), and made a few cracks about how it was too bad I had a Hyundai because they have so many problems.  He should know, he tells me, he has one too.

"Okay Eeyore.  Stop trying to rain on my happy parade."  I think to myself.  My car is just fine.  I'm not spending weeks now worrying about what other shoe could drop with my car.  (The old me would have.)

He also warned me not to turn my car off for at least a half an hour.

Okay.

I head back to my center, get my baby juice out of the fridge, load my car back up, and head out.

Oh, I also stole a cell phone from work because I was not driving home at midnight through a dark canyon with no cell phone after that.

I get in my car and notice my gas tank is empty.

Oh no!  My gas tank is empty!  How on earth am I going to deal with this?  I can't turn my car off.  I need gas to get home.

Oh no!

But, I didn't freak out.  I grabbed myself some french fries from McDonald's across the street.  I earned those french fries.  I reward myself with pure crack when I am at my most Amazonian.  And I headed over to the gas station.

"Hey, Nascar doesn't turn their engines off when they fill up the tanks," my sister noted via text on my work cell.

Thanks sis!

So, I filled up my tank with my car running, grateful for yet another lesson:  never let your gas tank get that close to empty.  Also grateful that I didn't explode.  (Yay!)

I pulled onto the road and took out a french fry.

Cold.

My beloved rarely purchased, rarely enjoyed french fries were cold. And everyone knows that crack is best served piping hot.  Cold crack is inedible.

Oh no!  Poor me!  This sucks!  I just want to get home!!

That's what the old me would have thought.  I would have tossed the fries, gone home angry and hoped tomorrow would be better.

Instead, I made a U turn, went back to McDonald's and asked for fresh fries.  They happily accommodated my request.  And I enjoyed my fresh fries, my charged car, and some NPR news updates at midnight on my way home.

I rode the elevator up, walked in my door, plopped my stuff down, brushed my teeth, and got into bed.

My baby started fussing so I popped a boob, then the other boob, in her mouth, she went right back to sleep, and I settled in for a nice 6 hours of sleep, thinking about how amazing I am, that I not only got through a very full, very challenging day, but that I chose happiness through it all.

I chose happiness.