Some of you have noted that I have not been writing as much lately and that is attributable to a few reasons, the first of which is that I am busy. But as we all know, we are all always busy, and I’ve found time to write before. So truth be told, I have been in a bit of a funk. I know the source of it, and I don’t care to get into the exact reasons why, but suffice it to say, there are certain aspects of my situation that are completely and totally draining. And those aspects actually have nothing to do with Ellie. Which has resulted in a bizarre writer’s block.
Okay, the writer’s block has conveniently made way for the viewing of 35 (and counting) episodes of Mad Men…I have finally joined the masses and have became a HUGE Mad Men fan…and really, it takes a lot less energy to watch a very well-written show, than it does to express the crazy aspects of my life in a mildly entertaining fashion.
Anyway, back to the funk…my energy is a limited resource…at least to a point…and when something is bothering me, it tends to consume every last bit of my energy. I am not one for avoidance…instead I tend to tackle (aka obsess about how to fix something) head on. Life is too short to have lingering BS floating around waiting to bite you in the ass – or at least I think so.
So when I rolled out of bed this past Monday and headed into work, I thought to myself…I really can’t wait to do nothing this weekend, so that I can be in bed by 9pm every night. As the week went on, I recalled that, despite my desire to be lazy and on Ellie’s sleep schedule, I not only had plans on Friday night, but on Saturday night as well. And Ellie was welcomed to both the dinner party on Friday and the 1st anniversary party on Saturday.
Honestly, I really was torn between being excited that I had plans both weekend nights, and by being exhausted by the thought of having to get dressed and get out of the house in a decent fashion for both occasions. And then our social calendar became a little more packed when a friend from our music class, called Saturday evening and invited us over for pizza and beer on Sunday afternoon after nap time. And frankly any time anyone speaks in terms of nap time, they have won be over…because they are picking up what I am putting down.
So we had a lovely dinner Friday night with some friends that I have had the pleasure of knowing for over 10 years, attended a very nice party on Saturday night hosted by some dear friends that recently moved into my neighborhood. Sunday morning, I decided to take Ellie to the Central Park Zoo because she is obsessed with a book called, Dear Zoo, by Rod Campbell and wanted nothing more than to see the monkeys.
And then on Sunday afternoon, I decided between showering and mopping the floor (mopping the floor won) so that we could get out of the apartment on time, and we headed over to our friend’s apartment for some pizza and beer.
We had a blast. There were 4 kids including Ellie, all under 3 years old, and 3 couples plus myself. We talked about daycare versus nannies, downstairs neighbors getting annoyed at the noise our kids make, us getting annoyed at downstairs neighbors that smoke, how we are still wearing certain items for our maternity clothing wardrobe, and how our kids love to hug and kiss so much that they appear to have been over-served. We discussed that it really rarely appears to be worth it to get a weekend babysitter, talked about the new Aaron Sorkin series, Newsroom, that begins in a week or so and could possibly capture the world of TV News in a way that has not been done before, and how Sports Night captured the TV industry better than anything I have seen yet.
Long story short – I felt like I belonged. Yea…I wished I had a partner…yea I wished I didn’t have to go grocery shopping on my way home, but all in all, I began to feel a little bit better. And after my somewhat successful trip to the grocery store, I was walking home and I was thinking about something a person, who shall remain nameless, said to me when I got pregnant. He went on and on about how I wouldn’t have any friends after I had Ellie, how no matter how supportive my friends and family said they were, they would really feel burdened by this and they would not want to be around me.
Recalling it stung, but clearly this person was not correct, so I sort of shrugged and tried to rid my mind of those terrible conversations…and then I came home find:
1. A card in my mailbox from a good friend that made me laugh out loud.
2. A cute post-it on the my apartment door from the little girl that lives next door and loves Ellie. (side story, she saw us in the elevator yesterday and I said, “Hi Mena! How are you? And she said, “Good! How about a hug and kiss?” And I said, “Sure!” And bent down to give her a hug and kiss and she said, “Thanks, but I meant for Ellie.” I love that girl so much. She cracks me up.)
3. And I was straightening up my apartment tonight I found this fortune, from a meal I had a few weeks ago. I thought I had thrown it out…apparently not.
And I sighed, and said, “Okay, I hear you. I hear you.”