Free Wheeling

Okay, so Eric and I have been having some major emotional ups and downs over the whole lay-off thing, and it's certainly scary some days, and I get sad and depressed (doing my best to just fully feel those emotions, deeply and well, rather than suppress them).  But, well, I hate to admit it, but having to give up some things has made me realize how much great free stuff there is out there to take advantage of (provided one has some transportation, free time, and an internet connection).  It's like, now that I'm not overloaded with t.v. and newspaper and Crackberry, all of this quality time and opportunity has opened up.  What the hell?

Like, I now remember how great Pandora radio is.  I've been doing my yoga to some excellent chill tunes on there, provided commercial free and cost free (since we don't have On Demand yoga anymore).

The public library kicks major ass.  Major.  Books, books, books.  Videos.  Music.  All free.  How great is that? 

I don't know about yours, but our city has a plethora of free activities for kids and families.  I entered them all in the calendar, and we'll start going to some.  Summer is coming, summer is coming!

Sewing.  I can make a lot of my own clothes, pretty much any time I want.  Not everything, and I screw up a lot, but that's cool, right?   And no need to buy new stuf?

Friends.  With generosity coming out their pores.  Free babysitting, cookies, and tons and tons of good love and support.

Okay?  So screw the other stuff.  This is, maybe, the good life we've been looking for.  Maybe the giving up of stuff and luxuries is going to make some other really good things happen for us.  Change is hard, but maybe the rewards are sweet.  Dare I think it?

Talkin' Bout My Joy

Addie came wandering into our room at 6am, saying (in the most cheerful voice on the planet), "You know, I really can't open my eyes!  It's SO strange!"

Damn, damn, damn, I whispered to myself.  Then out loud, DAMN.

Addie wakes up every few weeks, her eyes swollen shut with pus.  Out come the pinkeye drops and the saline for squirting up her nose.  Kid has some clogged pipes, and they seem to often get clogged on Monday mornings when I have deadlines and conferences to attend and am already behind from being sick myself. 

But then, I got over it.  Cleaned out her eyes, called her school, got some chores done.  Mostly we hung out in the backyard building fairy houses from twigs and leaves and dandelions, until Eric came home at noon so I could come and do some work.  It was a stunningly beautiful day, so I'll take that.

(And yes, we've seen a doctor, and yes, we're cutting down on the milk products.  It has been suggested to us multiple times that she will outgrow all of this crud.  Throw hands up in the air).

Stuff like this doesn't bother me as much as it used to, doesn't panic me (usually).  I'm able to say DAMN and then just get on with it, say a quick thanks for the grace offered by a job whose schedule I can rearrange pretty easily.  Thanks for the extra, unexpected time with my kid.  Thanks for the health insurance and the stockpiled eyedrops.  Thanks for Nolie almost never being sick.  I get it now, much better than a year ago.  It's the whole deathbed thing:  I won't remember the emails I could have gone through this morning, years from now, on my deathbed.  But I might remember the fairy house.

Still, I wouldn't mind if there were NO more random infections in my house for a while.  That's not too much to ask, I think. 

By the way:  here's what I've pulled from my good-times jar so far:  I've learned a song by Randy Newman on the piano, and sing it when nobody's around (I sound like a tortured cat, but I commit, baby, I commit).  It's not memorized yet, but maybe by summer it will be?  I've written a prayer for joy.  And my last pull was to learn how to juggle from YouTube.  I'll let you know how it goes.

And, if you're looking for joy, check this out: 

What's not to love?  Look at that baby Nolie.  Lord, she's some lovin'.

It's All Good. Really.

I spent the morning trying to get our landline number switched over to Eric's cell phone, canceling the cable and the newspaper, cutting our donations, and calling my gram to see if she would pay for Addie's ballet lessons for a while (praise Ruby, she will).

I don't think I'll miss the t.v. too much yet, plus we can still watch stuff on the computer, and we kept Netflix for now, so that we have movies to watch.  The girls will miss Noggin, but tv wasn't good for them anyway, right?  They'd rather spend the time with us.  When I canceled the paper, I was told I could retain online access for six months for free.  Golden.  Better for the environment anyway.

We haven't made any decisions about our biggest expense--the kids' school.  We'll do that when we know more about when, exactly, Eric's last day will be (which could be anywhere from two weeks to three months).  That will be the biggest change, and I'm only beginning to get used to it in my head.

An awesome book I'm reading suggests this:  fill a jar with lots of things that you would like to do, and that are in line with your goals for growth.  Like, my goals have to do with giving myself some love without spending on material possessions, and with feeling more connected to family and friends, and also feeling the love of spirit.  So my jar has little slips of paper with things like, "learn the words to a good song and practice singing it," or, "call a friend," or, "meditate for 15 minutes."  Whenever I'm feeling anxious about stuff, I get to pull a paper from the jar and take a mini-break, practicing something that keeps me in line with where I envision my life going.  I was feeling pretty down last night, and pulled the song one.  I haven't decided which one yet to learn, but I'm excited about learning a new song on the piano, and practicing singing it.  I have something to look forward that is free and makes me happy.  It's a gift to myself.  Cool, huh?

Eric put my hand to his chest last night--it was vibrating like a drum with anxiety.  "We have to remember we're on the same side," he said, after I said some not-so-nice things about feeling freaked out about his finding a job.  How could I forget that he's human?  That he feels this more deeply than I do, losing his livelihood?  Shit.  Shit.  That sweet heart, pounding in that chest.  The most important thing is to believe in him now, and to trust (see Nanny's post for a truly awesome example of how this works).

"What you need the most right now is each oter," says Toni.

"You can freak out if you want to," my friend Ellen reminds me.  "But really, it's all good."

Sue:  "You and Eric have created a very solid foundation. Plant yourself there. And thrive."
 
And you all called, and gave us virtual hugs, and laugh and cry with us.  Thank you for this love (and also, Rose, for the cookies, which make many things better).  It's all good.

Lay-offs, Lulus, and Tutus

My sweet, smart husband got laid off from his job this morning.  I felt a heaviness descend on my heart, for sure, and I've had a few moments of sniffles, times where I let the fear and uncertainty get me down.  I particularly get woozy when I think about what a year I've had, with my family members being sick and now this.  But that is not useful thinking, that cumulative thinking, and it's not reality, anyway. 

The reality is here, in this moment, where I have my own health back, thank goodness, and I think I might actually ship this stupid paper I've been working on to an editor, and I'll be leaving shortly to pick up Addie from ballet, and the sight of her in a tutu is a joy to behold.  We have a fridge full of food, our refinance looks like it will go through, and we have money in the bank.  So we're okay.  This is just another change we will have to adjust to.

And, as most of you know, Eric didn't love that work so much, anyway.  Maybe he'd like to be doing something else, anyway.  This may end up being a good thing.

So, our new adventure begins today.  I'll keep you posted on how it goes.

Crazy-Ass Weeks

I crawled into bed last Sunday night, after Addie's 5th birthday extravaganza at Chuck E. Cheese's, and am just now crawling out.  We're still not totally sure what happened to me.  As best as the doctors can explain, my uterus kind of exploded in some sort of never-before-seen infection.  Or an evil little gnome of a cyst on my right ovary set off its own little suicide bomb.  Or something else entirely.  Maybe unrelated to Chuck E. Cheese, maybe not.

All I know is this:  I was sick, mommy, was I sick.  And I feel better today, got a little work done, but I'm still not all better.  And the doctors still don't know what the hell is up.  Also, all of those classic women's studies/anthropology texts about dirt and disease and women menstruating?  Still all very true.  Western medicine may be kind to you and your ovaries, but not if they're dropping egg.  They want nothing to do with you in those cases. 

Some of you might say western medicine never is kind to you and your ovaries.  You may be right.

Anyway, we're headed into Easter weekend, so I crawl out of bed, away from wrapping birthday presents and toward dye-ing eggs.  We find out next week if Eric gets laid off.  I also turn thirty-four.  And I have to revise an article YET AGAIN for the same publication, and have two more publications due on May 1.  I feel like I'd rather saw off my own arm than work right now, but that's what we got.  Work and birthdays and Easter and being laid off work.  And a suicide-bombing cyst mission.  Plus a million other little blessings, I know, I know.  I'm counting them, too.  What else can you do?

What a crazy-ass week, yo.

Addie at 5

Here's a snapshot of Addie, as she turns five this next week:

She can read whole chapter books all by herself.  Her favorite ones are about fairies, of the Tinkerbell variety.  "Mama," she whispers as she crawls into bed with me in the morning, "when we go to Disneyland someday, we will have to be very quiet.  We will hear the tinkling of the bells and that will tell us how to get to Pixie Hollow.  Okay?"

Though the front of her shirts are no longer covered in drool, she still has a perenially runny, crusty nose and sounds always plugged up.  She can't close her mouth when she chews.  It's like having a baby ox at the dinner table.  And, she is fidgety like nobody's business.  I'd love to have a time-lapse video of her during a meal.  It would be like watching a waffle dervish.  Waffle dervish baby ox.

She is taken with all things nature.  We have seedlings growing in our bay window, and she follows their daily progress closely.  One of her favorite things is to go in the backyard and look for "signs of spring."  I'm constantly being dragged out of the house to observe the new buds on trees, or some black beetle crawling across the pavement.

Addie is quick to cry.  Her feelings are tender, and she is still very much a spirited child.  An itchy tag on her shirt and she's a puddle of sobs pounding at the floor.  She is also incredibly creative, and can make a sculpture or painting out of almost anything.  She loves music.  She loves her family, and talks incessantly about her grandmas and grandpas, aunts and uncles, cousins, and friends.

She is incredibly tall and thin, and when she's sitting in the bath at night, her cheeks pink from the steam and her lips huge and red, her eyes big in her thin face, she absolutely takes my breath away with her beauty.

She's taken to sleep-walking at night, which usually involves coming into our room and heading for the stalk of library books, all shaky and unconscious, wanting to read even in her sleep.  Every so often she wakes in the middle of the night with horrible croup and cannot breathe.  Or terrified from a nightmare in which a pig has been nibbling on her toes.  I remember her as a baby, then, those nights of nursing her and staring into each other's eyes, discovering each other.  She's very much on her own path now, but I hold on anyway.

You add fire and excitement to our lives, my sweet Addie, and my heart is filled to bursting with love for you.  We are so proud of you, so amazed by everything you are and are becoming.  Happy 5th Birthday, our sweet girl.

ORE Kick-Off

Operation Reduce Expenses begins today. 

I teach late on Thursday nights, usually, but it's "E-Days" here on campus, which is a three-day festival-type thing that happens every year at Mines, and is when our normally staid, quiet, nose-to-the-grindstone student body goes a little crazy.  As in, I smelled alcohol on more than one student last night in class.  And the amazing fireworks show was scheduled to begin right at the end of class.  So I ended the three-hour seminar early and went back to my office to watch the show from my office window and finish grading papers.

Just then a message from the President of the college pops in my inbox.  We've got an $11 million shortfall to reckon with, it says.  I'm sure you're all wanting more information, it says.  Not that they're giving us any.

I sighed and put my head in my hands and tried to remind myself that nothing has changed.  I'm sitting here, still breathing, still with my healthy family and my house and with enough money to buy food and everything else I need for a pretty good long time.  Nothing has changed.

Still, for the first time since this roller-coaster ride began, some fear got the best of me last night and I had to have a good cry over everything.  I came home, mixed up a good, strong rum and juice, and sat in the dark, thinking about which expenses we can cut now to begin saving money for what seems to be coming.  Nothing big.  A lot of redundancies--the organic vegetable delivery, the newspaper, the cable.  All these trappings of middle-class life that I've felt conflicted over anyway.  We're not having to pull the girls out of school yet (that one will hurt) and neither of us has officially pushed the emergency button.  But we're setting off down the path anyway, little steps at a time.

I know it's going to be okay.  I know it is okay.  I'm doing okay with the fear, generally.  Writing this makes me feel better, even if it is whiny and self-indulgent, and faith in the path helps, too. 

Are you all feeling scared?  How are you dealing with it?