Friday, September 23, 2011

The wrong choices

Lately, I've been worrying. A lot.
I worry about Patrick, about the choices I make (we make) for him. I worry about myself and who I am becoming or have already become. I worry about life and if I can handle more children (I'd like 3). I worry about sleep and when I'll be able to get enough but then I worry when Patrick does sleep too long or too much. I worry about working full time and seeing my babe for 3 hours in the evening and for two days on the weekend. I worry he won't know me, although I know he does when I pick him up and he smiles so big. I worry he'll question Joc and my decision to conceive. I worry that I chose the wrong job change and I should have stuck to the bedside. I worry that I'll never be able to leave the job for fear of "sticking" my job on other people. I worry I'm not doing a good job at work. I worry I won't be able to maintain breastfeeding until Patrick is a year old. I worry that Joc and my marriage will erode from the energy it takes to raise a baby. I worry that I'll never get back to my fitness level I gave up with my pregnancy. I worry that I worry too damn much.
I was never a worrier before being a mom. I just rolled with life's ups and downs but not anymore. I'll still roll, I just worry while I roll.

Tuesday, September 20, 2011

The Help

So, I finally read The Help.  It's about time, right.  It's a great read and reminder of what went on in this country not that long ago.  The voices of the women in the book were inspirational, heartbreaking, heartwarming, irrational, irritating, smart, funny and about a million other words.  If you haven't read it, I recommend you do.  I'm leery to see the movie, so many times the movies don't live up to my expectations but many people say it's a good movie too.  I suppose I'll have to find out.

Saturday, September 10, 2011

10 years ago

It's September 11th again.
So, the ever present question: Where were you 10 years ago on 9/11?
I was in Spain, had just arrived a few days earlier (I think we flew in on the 3rd or 4th) for a semester of studying in Malaga (southern city on the Mediterranian coast).  In fact, with the time change, I recall we had all just left our classroom, it was 12 or 1, and were walking, about 5 or 6 of us, to the Internet cafe to check our emails and write home.  A fellow classmate who beat us home called one of us (we had cellphones before they were popular in the States) and told us, "a plane just flew into the World Trade Center".  My first thought was that I didn't know exactly what the WTC was but I knew it was big so I said, "whoa, that's a lot of people".  At the time of the phone call, the classmate told us that the news was reporting it as a a personal passenger plane.  We all just briefly thought, wow.  Then as we passed a dinner/restaurant/bar we saw that everyone in the bar was staring at the TV so we went in.
Now, we were obviously Americans (if you've been to Europe you know that we just don't dress the same as Europeans) so when we walked in, the people looked at us all sadly.  We turned around and saw what they were seeing on the TV and I think my mouth fell open.  We rushed to the Internet cafe, trying to get information that was understandable (Spanish was our second language afterall and we'd just arrived so we weren't great at it yet).  The Internet was slow and we couldn't get much.  We had emails from family members asking if we were okay, a boyfriend from home finally (he said he kept getting network too busy signals because of so many people making calls that day) got through and told her and us how bad it was at home.
I sent an email to my mom to let her know we were fine and I'd keep her posted on what would happen next.  Then I walked to my apartment (where I roomed with 2 other Spaniards, in their 20s) and they were watching the news and the image of the planes flying into each tower over and over and over.  They looked at me and said, "Lo siento Jenn.  Lo siento." (translation: I'm sorry Jenn, I'm sorry)  We sat and watched the news for a while.
I don't remember it clearly, I know our professor called us all together, back to the classroom and we were informed that there were no planes flying in or around the US and that was indefinite.  We were staying in Spain, there was no reason to get us home, we were safer in Spain.  We just had to band together as a class.  I remember one girl knew an Uncle who worked in a tower but he miraculously hadn't gone into work that day.  It was just all too real but not real at all.  I was too far away to truly understand the magnitude, still to this day I'm awestruck by the devistation that I just didn't grasp that week.
We were told to not walk around in big groups (we were a group of 20) and not to speak English loudly or when in public.  Basically: don't be obvious Americans.  While at home you were all banding together in patriotism and brotherhood.  (This is one of the reasons I came home and was irritated with the massive amount of American flags everywhere).
Our semester went on, we went to class, we traveled around Europe, we learned Spanish and we talked about different things we'd heard from loved ones: gas prices went way high, songs were banned from radios, etc.  We knew nothing more than the rumors we heard.
Watching shows now and old video clips is wierd for me now, I wasn't here for it and can't fathom it.  Your worlds stopped and you became strong Americans.
The culture shock was almost worse coming back home in December.
I respect this day, I shake my head at the devestation.  I can't say what it was like being in America when it happened, but being in Europe was unfair in many ways.  We got back to the business of living though, much faster than anyone at home.
As always, life goes on.

Tuesday, September 6, 2011


Well, I ran my first 5K in a year.  In fact, the 5K I ran on Monday was the exact 5K I ran last year that was my last race since Monday... did that make sense?  Anyhow, it's been one year since I've competed in a race... was I ready?  Nope.  Was I in shape?  Nope.  Was it unseasonably cold?  Yup.  Did I walk?  Just for a few moments while drinking water at the aid station.  Am I sore today? Yup.  Did I get chaffage?  Yup.
The problem:  finding a routine to get back into running/biking.  While Joc and I were home for 8 weeks, running was not a hard thing to find time to do.  I just had to feed Patrick before going out.  Now that I'm at work 5 days a week, I'm having a hard time finding that time.  I realize I'm full of excuses, let's just say that right off the bat.  "I'm tired"  "I'm not a early morning (5am) runner" "I want to spend as much time with Patrick since I don't see him all day"  "It's too hot"  I've used them all so far.  Bottom line:  I have to make time for running or exercise- it's my mental wellbeing we're talking about here.
I have a jogging stroller, many people say I can't put PJ in it until he's 6 months old.  Lord! I don't want to wait that long!  I get out of work and home by 5 or 6 everyday, I would like to start going out after work.  After I post this, I'm going to google my jogger and see if they have a recommended time that it's "okay" to put a baby in the jogger.  (I don't live on dirt roads, and I'm not a speedy runner so it's not like he's going to be jerked around!)
All I know is:  I ran that 5K in 33:14, that's the slowest 5K I might have ever done... I need to get moving again and feel good about myself again.