morning star

i have been rather scattered, and hence–no blogging.

i am starting to realize that working “one day a week” really diminishes the amount of hours i spend planning curriculum, grading, and otherwise preparing for my classes (case in point: for my upcoming summer course i am required to observe at least 2-3 classes and meet with a mentor several times and take a course on the specific computer system . . . etcetera!). this cloud of i-should-be-doings follows me around like a low-grade fever. i am a little bit irritable as a result.

so, i need to be more honest about that. i need more time to work on my work.

for the past couple of months i have let housework slide, as it seemed like the least pressing concern. however, i have been spending a lot of time inside my apartment lately (thanks to a baby and a rainy pacific northwest spring–seriously, it was not sunny 31 out of 31 days in March) and i have taken to describing the place as a grubby hellhole. so i have been doing some cleaning.

i had a stereotypical breakdown the other day, letting all my frustrations get the best of me. krispin was home and the baby was napping and i flew out the door in a huff (in sweatpants, natch), keys in hand, nowhere as a destination. i cried in the car, pounding my fists on the steering wheel and singing along to the innocence mission and i went to home depot and let myself get talked into buying the expensive kind of paint (and a nice paintbrush–they [the men who worked at home depot who seemed slightly traumatized by my red-and-blotchy cry face] assured me it would last 7 years and i am at a point in my life where i need to get over my reliance on cheap and disposable) and then i went home and painted an old dresser and a bookshelf a lovely shade of light teal and rearranged some furniture.

as a game, read back over that paragraph and see how many stereotypes about moms you can spot!

yeah, i know. news flash:  i am emotional and frumpy and i took some pride in making my “space” more welcoming.

in other news, ramona is almost 8 months, and can be very charming when she wants to be. she still has no interest in sitting up, but she thinks spastic dogs and sneezes and yams and oatmeal are the best things in life (oh, and reading books. and pulling off her socks and chewing on them). and then there are days like today: lots of screaming, little sleeping. well, she can’t always be perfect.

coming up: a guest post by the baby daddy! seriously, krispin made some remarks about wanting to write about what kind of mom i was behind the scenes–you know, the kind of mom who, when the baby throws a toy on the floor picks it up and puts it in the diaper bag only to fish it out 5 minutes later and stick it back in the baby’s hands. 5 minutes in a diaper bag=germ disinfectant, right? actually, krispin, i just wait until whoever saw the toy land on the floor is a good distance away and then i pull it out again. yeah, i just stole your bad-mom-story thunder!!!!!!!!