A different kind of NaNo

It's been four months since I got laid off, and I still don't have a job. But yet I do. Taking care of my son and house is keeping me busier than a full-time job, and the hours are a little crazier. Since I'm technically not working (although I am; just not for a paycheck) I decided to try to do NaNoWriMo this year. I'm steaming along and where I should be, although I seriously have to kick myself in the ass several times to write every day. So yes, I am writing. Just lately, not in this blog, as many of my bloggie friends are for NaBloPoMo.

In other news, I have actually gotten a few bites on jobs. One was pretty serious. It just wasn't anything I wanted to do, as I turned out, and the pay wouldn't have covered the cost of childcare, so I bowed out of the chance to have a second interview. I did feel bad walking away when it was one of the few bites I've gotten, but honestly, I'm enjoying being home with the Boo so much, it would have to be an incredible opportunity for me to step back into the professional working world. So the search goes on.

To sleep, perchance to (have a bad) dream

I've always maintained that the sleep deprivation is one of the hardest parts of parenthood. I personally need a lot of sleep. I soldiered through the nighttime feedings, napping during the day (sleep when the baby sleeps, dontchaknow) and generally living like a zombie. Until that fateful nine-month checkup, when I asked Boo's pediatrician about middle-of-the-night feedings.

She looked at me like I was nuts. "Do you need to eat in the middle of the night?" she asked.

"Umm, no," I replied.
I
"And neither does he," she said. She recommended the always-controversial Ferber method. We did it, it sucked, but it worked. My son now goes down at about 9 and is up around 7.

And then we entered the age of night terrors.

I'll be sound asleep and I hear the whimpering. Then it turns into screaming. Do we go in? Do we wait it out? Going in there often leads to picking him up. Which is freaky, because he's sound asleep and still screaming like he's on fire.

I used to have (and still do, to an extent) night fears. So I sympathize with my son, I really do. It's just that I can't do much for him when he's having one of his episodes. And as it turns out, feeling helpless is even worse than sleep deprivation when you're a mom.

This Halloween: Less spooky, more cutie

When I was a kid, I used to really love horror movies. One of my best friends and I would rent 'em from the video store (remember those?) after school. Really gross stuff, too, like supposed snuff films. They used to scare the shit out of me, and I loved it. I also used to obsessively read Stephen King, flipping through the pages with a flashlight under the covers until there was no hope of me ever going to sleep.

Now, all this means I've always been a really big fan of Halloween. The gory and the creepy were some of my favorite parts. I'd deck my house out with tombstones and all kinds of creatures of the night and gleefully pass out (and eat) the candy.

This year, things are a little different.

My son is almost 22 months old. He's walking and talking and aware of a lot more things than he was last Halloween. We walked into Lowe's the other day and the greeter asked him if he liked spooky stuff. Before he could answer, she showed him a severed head. I thought he was going to fall out of the cart. And in a related story, he keeps telling me he doesn't like the "spookies," including the hanging ghoul between my garage bays that he comments on every time we drive past it.

So I've toned it way down this year. I have a skeleton in my front yard, but he's more cute than scary. There are lots of pumpkins and fall colors around. His costume is fuzzy and adorable: A monkey, complete with tail and a "be-nana" in the pocket. I shield him from the spookies in the store, because he tries to climb out of the cart when he sees them. And what I'm finding is, all of this is making me like the "spookies" a lot less, too. Ah, motherhood.

Happy Halloween! Eat lots and lots of candy!

You know you're a mom when

You're sitting in Panera when a kid starts to choke, and your head whips around so fast people think it's your kid.

You see a kid throwing a fit in a public place, and instead of thinking, "shut that kid up," you think, "those poor parents."

You tell speeders on your street to slow the hell down (even though you used to be a notorious speed demon).

You run to hold the door for another mom struggling with a carriage.

You go out to buy clothes for yourself and come home with baby-sized ones.

10 years is a long time

Ten years ago, I was living in Waltham. I had just moved into a new one-bedroom apartment on Trapelo Road and was settling in. For a few weeks, I had been chatting on the phone with this guy. He seemed really nice. And on October 10, we were going to hang out.

That day changed my life. That man was, as you've probably figured out, M, and less than two years later, he was my husband. Ten years later, and we're seven years married, own a home and have an almost-2-year-old. I live 35 miles away from there, but it feels like a lifetime. Happy anniversary of our first date, M. I love you.

All I need is a miracle

As of Tuesday, I will have been out of work for three months. I have submitted probably a hundred resumes, made calls, etc. And mostly, I've been met by dead silence -- the black hole. The only responses I've gotten have been a request for an interview -- which I went on, it went well, and I was summarily rejected via letter -- and an interested email about another job. When I followed up, the position had been filled, but I was told I was on the "short list" for future opportunities.

All of this makes me feel bad for my fellow job seekers, but it also makes me pissed at them for being the competition. There are very few jobs out there, and too many people looking. It's very ugly. Part of me wants to retreat from job searching altogether and just embrace my life as a SAHM. But I don't want to give up. My next opportunity is around the corner, I keep thinking. All I need is the stars to align properly. And perhaps a minor miracle.

Stepping outside the routine

M and I have built a great life together, based largely on routine. If it's Wednesday, it's trash day. Friday means family dinner night. Sunday means the paper and church. And so on.

But last night, we mixed it up. Boo went to see his grandparents, M went to a party, and I went back to my hometown to hang out with some high school friends. It was a late night, full of laughter and memories and just the good feeling of being around people who knew you when. Today I feel totally invigorated. And ironically enough, more psyched than ever to get back to my routine.