Man, it is exhausting falling off the face of the planet...
Before I get to the apologies, can I just say that I haven't made one stinkin' dime off these blog ads? It's not Blogher's fault - I suspect that we're paid by the amount of "unique" (meaning new) visitors to my site and mama's far too busy keeping the toddler alive to drum up business. Any fellow bloggers getting flush from selling space?
Back to apologies. Did I mention the sorry? I've been working my tail off pitching woo to a big-time ladies magazine, hoping to get some stuff bought. The editor is a dream (especially compared to the chilly reception I've garnered from certain other glossies. I'm talking to you, Unnamed Parenting Mag). I wrote almost 10 pitches in 4 days; not bad considering I can only work during naptime. I've discovered that I'm really good at writing short. Feature-length articles that are full of interviews and journalism and intellect are not my thing. Give me a piece on Tracy Feith's new line at Target (cuuuute!) and I'm all in. Unfortunately most places pay per word which doesn't bode well for my financial future but at least I'm never at a loss for party conversation.
Things here are good. The boy seems to have had a respite from the hell that was molars. After almost two weeks of terrible sleep (one night he was awake for almost 5 HOURS) he's back to full nights and reasonable naps. I suspect all this gorgeous sleep also has something to do with his newfound mobility - walking is coming on quick, peeps. We took Missy's advice and got him a walker a few weeks ago. He wasn't so keen at first but now he won't leave home (or his room) without it. He carts that thing around all over the place, bumping into furniture and tipping over like a grandpa on a bender. He wants to walk EVERYWHERE now. (With a little help from mama or the furniture or the cats of course.) He has also started climbing, which bodes ill. When you live in 700 square feet, finding outlets for toddler energy is tricky at best. (Oh god, I just got a flash of him at age 4...) My kingdom for a yard.
My mom's coming into town today which is about 17 kinds of awesome. My dad came up last week and it was just so nice seeing the baby with family. (Don't mention free babysitting... don't mention free babysitting...) My mom was about to chew her own arm off if she didn't get to see the boy soon and I can't wait to see her face when she lays eyes on our GIANT CHILD. Seriously, the kid is part Hulk. I can't decide if I'm proud of scared. (You should see the looks on people's faces when I tell them he's only 15 months...) We go in for his Well Baby appointment next week and I'm dying to know how much he weighs. According to my biceps it's about a zillion pounds.
I've been doing a lot of thinking about our 5 Year Plan which is always a bundle of laughs. I get the feeling that for most people, planning their future is an enjoyable conversation. I find it a little awful. Mostly because I have no idea what I want to be doing in 5 years. Scratch that - I know exactly what I want to be doing but after half a lifetime of chasing unrealistic expectations it's time to settle down and nut up. I know I should go back to school to teach but I just get all miserable inside thinking about it. I wish I wanted to. It sounds so great and noble and smart and yet all it brings to mind is a whole lot of frustration. I've worked with kids all my life and I really love them. I would like to keep loving them, which will not happen if I have to wrangle them all day. Years of babysitting and camp counseling and now motherhood have proven that I am not a font of patience and tend to get prickly if tested. Not exactly a recipe for Teacher of the Year. I've also thought about trying my hand at proofreading or copy editing (I'm not entirely sure of the difference between the two) but with the Death of Publishing being pronounced every seventh second, I'm wondering how much work there'll be for a newbie.
In other words, ugh.
How are your 5 year plans coming? Feel free to advise me on mine, those online career quizzes are useless. (Apparently I would make a fantastic Actor or Writer! Isn't that great?)