I’m tired, I don’t feel very witty or interesting, I drank a Little Sumpin’ Wild and I’m drinking an IPA from a can in a glass, and I sorta fear my “green thumb” has turned into the touch of death. Oh, and my dogs are still destroying garden to eat fertilizer, which doesn’t help.
My days get repetitive, so maybe I’ll be short tonight. I’m a man of routine, after all. Routine in many basic ways, at least: my diet is reasonably healthy, yet not highly variable; I work; I try to spend as much time with my family as I can; I try to exercise six days per week; we have a standing date night; and I fill down-time with other bits of things, sometimes gardening or housework or various projects like wood-working or building fence or whatever may need to be done. I’m no pro at anything. The garden and front landscape have me down a bit. And I’ll admit it: I feel a bit overwhelmed at work. So there.
I might have slept fine last night if Liam had. Things started off fine, he ended up in our bed, I think he probably had some gas bothering him, which meant he was tossing and turning all night, which kept Angie and I from a good night’s sleep. That’s being a parent, though—I’m not complaining one bit, I’m just recounting things: I also go to look over and see his sweet face sleeping, feel him lay his head on me, and place my hand on his little arms or belly while I drifted in and out. I love my family.
I got up early with Liam, ‘cause I think my wife had a rougher night of sleep than me, even. When we’re up that early—it was probably 6:15 or 6:30, I don’t know—I strap sandals on him and we head out to the garden. It has been chilly in the mornings, kinda, but I figure if I’m okay out there shirtless in my boxers, he’ll live in his diaper and a shirt.
I didn’t do anything in the garden, really, except look. I think we may finally have one little habanero pepper set, but the way I feel like now my negativity will probably kill it by morning. That plant has been one of my frustrations, but one of many. I didn’t water. I didn’t harvest anything, although I could have. I’m a downer tonight. Or I feel it in me. I wasn’t energetic this morning.
I drank a pint of orange juice and headed to Bella Bru for my mocha and muffin. I bounced on my exercise ball at the office while reading resumes, amazed at how poor people can be at applying for jobs.
<<Pro-tip here: read the job description. If specific experience is demanded, use your words to show you have it. If the posting states “resumes without salary requirements will not be considered,” then for crying out loud, include your salary requirement. This isn’t rocket science, folks. People complain about not being able to get a job, but they can’t even apply for them correctly. Do you know what you’re doing when you don’t follow directions? You piss off your “potential employer” and waste their time—they become an employer for someone else. I could go on and on here. This isn’t a career advice blog. But if you’re wasting your work time reading resumes from jackasses (really, you want $80,000 EUROS per year for an entry level position?!?), burn Calories by bouncing on a ball. And listen to music, because music is good.>>
Work today was frustration. I snacked on a banana and an apple. This is actually NEW routine, but you see it has become routine. I’m out of almonds. I left the office later than I prefer, pulled the car switch with the wife, and picked up Liam.
I’ve had some knots in my stomach. My wife and I are working on an…endeavor. You’ll probably learn about that soon enough. It’s nothing big. Just fun. But it’ll cost us money, and that’s probably about it. It has given me laughs and some bits of optimism, too.
Liam was napping when I picked him up, which can be bad. He hadn’t been out long. He slept through the transfer to the car. He woke up when I set him in the crib. I rocked him. He was so tired, but not going out. Ten minutes passed, I knew it was a destined failure, but I laid him in his crib. He sat up. I was hungry. I picked him up and took him to the big bean bag. He was tired enough to stay put and drift off. I made grilled swiss on double fiber bread, real butter, sea salt and cracked pepper ‘tater chips. Water. Not enough water, maybe. I had a headache. It lingered.
I got work done, but realized I’m falling short of time. I may not get what I need to get done completed in time. This bugs me. This means I’ll work weekends and evenings and I’ll do it for free because that’s how I am. I hate not getting paid for overtime, though. I can, sure, but then there are budgets to be considered. Oy.
I had a conference call. I think I’m a member of the meetings-and-conference-calls-are-generally-a-waste-of-my-time-generation. Send me an email: the info is there, and it’s more efficient. Plus six other people aren’t sitting there twiddling thumbs while two people talk. Goodness.
So then Liam wakes up, I get him snacking, and he falls and cracks his nose on one of our steps. It’s tile. I didn’t see it, exactly, but he was right behind my computer chair, about 2 feet away. I was working.
I’m pretty calm with these things. Cuddle, affirm, assess, reaffirm, clean, reassess again. His nose really bled. He’d been eating a banana. The banana on his face confused things a bit. Blood and banana on your kid’s face: that can be unnerving. But I held him to calm him, took him to the bathroom so I could check him out while he cried: blood from the nose, none from the mouth, although maybe some, teeth present. Probably 5 minutes of crying. (My tech writing breaks through often: spell numbers, unless they’re units of measure. I try to suppress it, which results in me seeming confused and like I don’t know how to write. So be it.) He stopped crying. He wanted the rest of his banana. I cleaned him up a bit. I gave him a new banana since the first one was covered in dog hair from the floor-drop. He walked off smiling, laughing, eating his banana, and dancing and bobbing his head to Trombone Shorty. Resilience.
No swelling now. No bruising. Resilience: toddlers are amazing.
My mood turned south around then too, though. Plants in the front yard dying, and I don’t know why. Well, one in particular. This pains me. I had more work to do. My wife got home and I unloaded my guilt and frustrations and she listened and I appreciate that. Despite my headache and not feeling like doing a damn thing, I knew there was a good chance some exercise would alter my head, and I hate to skip swim day, so I went to the pool.
My swimming is surprising me lately. A bit over a mile in a bit over 40 minutes. Again, the distance and duration aren’t necessarily the point: I didn’t feel like doing it, didn’t want to do it, but I did it, and I felt better afterward. I spent a bit of time in the hot tub, the steam room, and the sauna. I don’t know why, but I enjoy all three. I stretched some.
I came home to my smiling family, a salad with mixed greens, carrot, onions, croutons, cheese, and Italian dressing. The pepperoni pizza was almost done, made with tomato sauce my wife cooked down from the garden this past weekend. I ate half that pizza. I drank my beer with it. I’m still working on that second one, the beer from the can in a glass. Angie got Liam bathed up and his teeth were brushed. I sat in the small bean bag while he ran naked laps and occasionally threw his self on me and/or kissed me. Naked babies are so cute—it’s amazing anyone could turn that into anything negative. But you can’t even show pictures of your naked kids anymore. I probably shouldn’t even admit we have some, or that he has ever been naked at all. I find this a sad sign of our times.
Liam fell asleep. I wrote this. My life is routine. I love routine. There’s such comfort in it. I didn’t always love routine, but I appreciate it more and more the older I get. I like to shake things up once in a while. I’m not boring, I don’t think. But it’s date night tomorrow night. We’re going for…well, you’ll find out. But this one has been pre-decided. Usually it’s a day-off decision.
I did fold some of that laundry on the couch. I started some more in the washer. I’m tired. I’m down. I’m out.
So good night, pile of paperwork sitting in front of me, annoying me with your very presence. I don’t want to sort through you. I don’t want to turn you into a plan. I want you to go away, and you won’t. Shit. Tomorrow is another day, and hopefully it starts with a good night’s sleep.
I need to start adding more pictures. I need to start taking more pictures. I need to spend time to turn my blog into what I really want it to be. I need time for that. I’m not sure I have time for that. Even this takes so much. But I do kinda love it. Ah well. Done.
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