Everyday we Movin'

It's been so very long.  I've thought about writing here several times of the last year+ but it's been a struggle to make the time.  It feels like so much as happened and it's difficult to just pick back up as if things are even close to the same as when I last wrote.  I re-read those posts now and am mostly struck by how much I still agree with my thoughts on motherhood and it's wonders, but also how blissfully unaware I was of the struggles that lay just a few months ahead.

Last January (2021), we hit a small milestone - 5 years since our UAE adventure began.  (Remember this?)  In relative terms, that's most of our marriage and longer than I've lived anywhere else in my adult life (or been tied to since I technically recused myself for 18 months to work in Seattle).  And without getting too detailed about the ups/downs of expat life or the reasons we ultimately decided to leave -- in April 2021 we moved to San Francisco with a new life in mind. 

And now we've been in San Francisco for 10 months (but I'll call it a year).  I wish I could say it's been peaceful and easy to move, settle into my new job, navigate this new city (in a pandemic!), and learn new work-baby-balancing acts...but it definitely has not.  This period has been so full of struggle, and conflict, and just plain everyday suffering that it's probably been the most difficult time of my adult life.  And because our life is so intertwined (and who/how I am), a difficult time for me also means a difficult time for Sven.

how I mostly handled 2021

this too

The year brought so many hiccups and unexpected small miseries, each whittling away at the basic comforts and daily sense of balance and calm that I've built over the last few years.  But the biggest and most lasting shock was the toll of adding outside work to my stack of daily/weekly/monthly/lifelong responsibilities.  Don't misunderstand -- being a mother is still every bit as wonderful and love-drenched as it ever was.  But being a mother and and and AND AND AND is what really got me.  It was completely de-stabilizing and I wasn't prepared to feel like I was drowning every moment of every day, in all things personal and professional.  And in general, metaphorical drowning is not a state of being I handle particularly well.  

This time I also felt the oh-so-heavy and sharp pangs of regret over leaving our peaceful and comfortable life in the UAE, which didn't help my ability to navigate the present.  For the first 6, 7, 8 months, I was in a stress loop of trying to figuring out how to wear all the hats and be all the things and do all the tasks...but I couldn't.  And the fact that I couldn't caused me so much general misery, and stress, and crying (like a lot A LOT). 

I didn't have anyone to sedate me, but in hindsight it probably would have helped

Around September/October, I had just enough clarity between the endless barrage of things to do and hyperventilating (barely) to figure out that my misery loop was an internal stress alarm caused by 2 things: 1) the absolutely unsustainable level of effort I was putting into daily life, and 2) San Francisco is not the right place for our family right now.  The post is a very meandering way to get to #2.  This city - rich in culture and art and $12 loaves of bread - is just not working for us (and by us I mean me).  By this time we all know that Steven is pretty much always fine.  

how he feels about San Francisco

But I've come to realize that living in San Francisco requires so many trade-offs on a daily/weekly level that make my life harder or more difficult.  And you really have to *want* what this city offers to make these changes worth it.  And for me, it just doesn't balance out.  So continuing to make the daily, weekly, monthly trade-offs/extra effort has been a painful process. 

So Steven, being the caring and cooperative life partner he always is (I mean that with zero snark or sarcasm), has gone through the steps to procure a relocation from his work.  Luckily for us, the only possible location that he could 'transfer' to was the Seattle metro area, which we already know we enjoy. And since I can work from anywhere, there's no reason to stay.

me as soon as Steven's relocation was approved

So in just 2 shorts weeks, we move again.

optimism optimism optimism

Oh and that other thing about trying to do way too many things...we'll talk about that later.  Maybe.  

I am a mother

 Sometimes I find myself repeating "I'm a mom" in my head, over and over.  It's been 5 months, and I still find myself doing this throughout the day/week/month.  It's not because I forget, or need assurance, or have to hype myself up for anything.  But it's been 5 months and I still marvel at it.  

I am a mother; a mom; a mama.

What a strange, yet so very ordinary, transformation.  Every Mother in the history of the world has gone through what I have, in some form or another.  Yet for me, it's the very first time and it has been nothing short of magical.  

3 days before Dylan was born

It's hard to explain how I felt before Dylan was born.  In the years before I was pregnant, I was always very tepid about the idea of having a baby.  It felt like there were so many other things to do, see, experience, and even living children that needed loving homes.  But mostly - we had a life that already felt satisfying and full, we savored our "we do what we want" ethos, and luxuriated in the peaceful tempo of our days.  We have been so very happy and fortunate in our life together and I didn't feel like we needed a baby to make it meaningful or more.  

And in full disclosure, I've always been quite daunted by how difficult it seems to have a baby and raise a child - how all consuming, complicated, emotional, disorienting, exhausting, full of doubt, expensive, body-wrecking, romance-ending, etc., etc., etc.  The resounding impression I had of having a baby was: it's beautiful and you'll love it...but sometimes it's also the worst thing ever.  And no matter how many people I love and trusted told me it was wonderful and worth it, I wasn't sure I'd feel the same. 

So I couldn't really place this tiny little life coming from ours, without also imagining the disruption of what we had enjoyed for so long.  And because of my hesitation, we waited...and waited...and waited.  Even after several years ago, when Steven gently told me that because of my age, we might be waiting so long it becomes physically improbable, or even impossible, for me to experience pregnancy and childbirth firsthand, I waited.  For years I've felt that urgency of time, and that slight panic of coming loss...yet I still waited.

And now, however many years later here I am, a mother. 

3 months

And it's both everything and nothing like what I expected.  The mechanics are exactly how people describe - the tiny, helpless being that doesn't know how to do anything (not even poop without crying!), the initial pain and ongoing effort of nursing, the staggering number of diaper changes, the surrender of your free time and sleep, mountains of laundry that seem to multiply overnight, uncertainty about whether your baby is sleeping enough even though it seems like she is sleeping all the time (and yet maybe not enough?!), and thousands upon thousands of google searches for things I've never even considered before.  All of that is exactly how it's described and I think because everyone talks about it so much nowadays, we had fairly accurate expectations for how we'd be spending our time.  

But what really surprised me, and what I marvel at repeatedly these days, is how it feels.  Everyone tried to tell me how it felt for them, but of course that's problematic because no two people are the same inside.  How can you tell someone how they will feel about their tiny being in the midst of months of sleep deprivation, painful boobs, and not knowing whether what you're doing is correct/enough/the best thing for this tiny creature you love so much?  And even if you could predict how someone will feel, as I learned in the last 5 months while hemming and hawing over this writing, it's also incredibly difficult to accurately capture and portray the dimension of these feelings.  But I'm here to get it down while the feelings are fresh, so I can snapshot them forever in time, and use it to pull these specific memories off the shelves in my brain later when there are rooms and rooms full of Dylan and motherhood memories.  

Even now, I struggle to describe it to myself.  But perhaps the best way is to summarize what I've said in text conversations during the very early days after Dylan was born, when I didn't have time to over think and curate my responses: 

At 5 days when asked what it feels like to look at Dylan: 

I always felt like meeting and getting to know my nieces and nephew was this huge explosion of emotion for me.  Like BOOM all the sudden my heart was bigger and made room for these tiny new people in our lives.  But I don't have this explosion of butterflies and heart-expanding fireworks like I did when I met my sisters' kids. It's not nearly as...I don't know, crushing?  When I look at Dylan, it's this really simple, quiet, incredibly deep belonging.  There's no fanfare or explosion or loudness to it.  It's just there.  Dylan is just a part of me now.  

At 6 days when discussing the serenity of the love described above:

I don't think my body is trying to protect myself after birth, or that the trauma of the event is muting how loud/large the feelings are.  I think there are so many different kinds of love and this is just a new one for me. 

At 10 days:

(In reference to my years of hesitation about having a baby:) I still understand those feelings. I still think we would have had a great life without having children.  But now that we have Dylan, and her specifically, it's different.  She's ours, end of story.

Motherhood is still abstract to me in a lot of ways.  But I figure it will build and become less and less abstract over time, as my mothering experience and relationship with Dylan grows.  It's only been 10 days.  We're still getting to know each other on the outside. 

It's a lot of broken sleep and I'm tired a lot.  But it's not forever and it's a choice I'm actively deciding to make each day.  It's definitely something I couldn't have understood until I went through it.  And even then, my experience is my own - entirely different than how some other person might feel given the same situation.  But I'm feeling pretty good.  I'm not as broken, tired, or blue as I was preparing myself to be/feel - which has been a pleasant surprise in itself.  And I am deeply content. 

At 10 weeks:

I'm continually surprised by how good it is.  I had been expecting so much chaos and anxiety and misery and crying (on Dylan's part and mine).  And it really hasn't turned out that way at all.  I keep telling myself it's still early and things could change, almost like I'm waiting for the other shoe to drop.  But I think it's a bit damaging to think that way all the time.  And it's not like it's all been easy. There have definitely been multiple hard things. But it just hasn't affected me as negatively as I thought it would.

And now, here we are at 5 months, where I am a little more settled into motherhood but still completely in agreement with everything I expressed above.  

There is now a deep yet serene undercurrent of love that exists in every moment of every day.  It hasn't turned my life upside down in the ways that I feared, and while the mechanics are what everyone says they are - experiencing it has been something different altogether.  And I tell myself over and over again that "I am a mother" simply because I love this new part of my life.

15 days

It's time to meet Dylan

This is Dylan.  She's calm and content, full of gummy and delightful squeals; my heart living outside my body. 

And this is her Dad, he's mine too.

For months now, I've been trying to find the right words but I didn't feel like my thoughts were gathered enough, polished enough, or exact enough.  So I didn't write.  I wanted to preserve these feelings and stages but always waited for more time, more words, more clarity.  And so here we are, nearly 1/2 a year later, and I still haven't written a single thing about something I feel so keenly and so fully. 

I probably would have waited forever but just this week, it hit me: this is my new normal and I'm waiting for something that isn't going to come. I'm wasting time, and time is something I now choose to share.

Gone are the days where I spent hours mulling over a single word or phrase, or slowly cooked an elaborate meal, or slogged through a book I didn't particularly care for just to avoid leaving it unfinished, or spent 10 days ripping out stitches on a project because I was annoyed that it wasn't *just right*, or spent 45mins on my morning hygiene routine (wtf was I doing with my life?), etc., etc., etc.  And it would be understandable if I said I no longer have time - that certainly what it feels like most days.  But what I realized this week is that I still have all the same time I did before.  And while it would be a taxing effort in it's own way, I could probably even muster the same mental clarity I had pre-baby.  But now I opt to spend everything differently and the result is less time and focus on me and my interests.  And that isn't going to change in the foreseeable future...by my choice.

Everyday for the last 5 months, I have chosen Dylan.  I give her my body because she used to be a part of it, and now this bright new world is strange and overwhelming, but so much nicer when you don't have to go through it feeling alone.  I give her my attention because it helps her grow, and learn, and makes her happy.  I give her my effort and intention because of all the things I apply myself towards in the course of my life, I want her to have my very best.  And I give her my sleep because day after day in the wee hours, she needs me.  

And I want to remember all these things in the small moments that they occur.  They're so precious yet so ordinary, repetitive, and fleeting that when I give them to her I'm also surrendering my own time and memory.  It's such a blur of love, sleepiness, tiny struggles, and rapid change; it's impossible to remember all (or even most?) of it.  And that simply won't do.  Six months, a year, or 20 years from now - I want to remember more than my second priority mind can spontaneously recall from this love-drenched time.  So this blog is going to become a place for me to share, but also just to remember. 

And it's going to get a whole lot messier. 

Not sorry, not even a little bit.

52 Questions - Steven

Aaaaand here is the Steven version of the same 52 Questions.  This multiple-posts-in-one-week magic brought to you by irresponsibly staying up late when I should be sleeping.  

Airline: British Airways
Airport: Heathrow
Bedtime: Moonlight
Birthday: August
Breakfast, Weekday: Cereal
Breakfast, Weekend: Belgian waffle
Car: GT-R
Child: Dylan 
Cocktail: Sidecar
Couple: Us
Date: December 14
Diet: Coke
Dinner, Weekday: Grill
Dinner, Weekend: Bord Eau
Enemy: Apache
Escape: NY Fire escape stairs
Excuse: Late for work
First Lady: Barbara Bush killed a guy
Fitness Regime: 24 hour fitness
Hotel: Al Raha
Insult: Yo mama
Last Meal: Electric chair
Lunch, Weekday: Pate and cornichon sandwich
Lunch, Weekend: La Duree
Match: Tennis
Movie: You’ve got mail
Name: Heather
Neighbor: Mr Rogers
NonFiction Book: My War Gone By I Miss It So
Novel: Gates of Fire
Shoes: Common Projects
Pet: Pb
Piece of Advice: Don’t pet a burning dog
Restaurant: Granger & Co.
Saying: A bird in the hand is worth two in the bush
Singer: Whitney Houston
Spouse: Heather
TV Series: The Wire
Theme Song of your Life:
Time of Day: 1400
Toast: Champagne
Vacation: Beach
View: Fjord
Wake Up Time: 0700
Work of Art: The Kiss by Klimt
Writing Implement: Mont Blanc

Goodnight!

Goodnight as in "gotta waste more time online before actually going to bed"

Hello Again with 52 Questions - Heather

It's been so long since I've written on the blog, you'd probably never guess I think about it weekly(ish).  It's been a really quiet and leisurely couple years, since moving back to Abu Dhabi in the middle of 2018.  I mistakenly thought the more leisurely lifestyle would translate to more time to be fabulous and write.  But no. Apparently, I only want to write when 'free' time is scarce AND I'm feeling extra emotional/tired/over-worked/stressed/whatever.  Which makes sense from a cathartic perspective, but certainly not from a 'make my life easier' one.

And now here we are 75% through 2020 - both the best (Dylan!) and worst (Covid-19) year ever - when it's hard to find more than an hour for myself each day.  I'm tired, I'm frazzled (sometimes), I'm full of love for our newborn baby (the best best best), and I'm hustling around doing chores and daily necessities during her 35min naps (still the best best best). And here I am spending 2 of those precious naps writing this post. 

But it's been ages and I'm lazy so we'll start with something light and easy for re-entry.  I read this article on Air Mail the other day, and it reminded me how much fun I had with the 20 Questions post a while back.  So I'm taking some of their questions and answering below.  I love that it's a snapshot of who I am today - my day, my likes, my mantras, my meals. Maybe it's the 15 year old girl in me (who loved quizzes in YM and Marie Claire), or maybe everyone just loves this easy and short interview format - who knows?

Airline: British Airways
Airport: Heathrow T5
Bedtime: I resist!
Birthday: a quiet affair
Breakfast, Weekday: muesli and tea
Breakfast, Weekend: a pastry from the bakery downstairs
Car: vintage Land Rover Defender
Child: so grateful we have one now
Cocktail: sidecar
Couple: peanut butter & jelly
Date: a leisurely swim in a piscina naturais, the best burgers in Furnas (with extra onion topping), and a crisp, cold beer
Diet: only for Phoebe, who has been deemed too heavy for the past year
Dinner, Weekday: gimme all the tigela
Dinner, Weekend: someone else cooks
Enemy: FOMO
Escape: not currently wished for
Excuse: I don't want to
First Lady: Michelle Obama
Fitness Regime: sorely missed
Hotel: Hotel Ai Reali in Venice
Insult: chingatumaga
Last Meal: wine and cheese with Sven 
Lunch, Weekday: a little this, a little that
Lunch, Weekend: a big ol' salad, made by someone else
Movie: You've Got Mail
Neighbor: Vicky and Lloyd, who deeply enriched my teenage life and have been role models ever since
NonFiction Book: Let Nobody Turn Us Around, Manning Marable
Novel: A Whole Life, Robert Seethaler
Shoes: Tournament Sneakers
Pet: is almost at her goal weight (!)
Piece of Advice: "You only have to let the soft animal of your body love what it loves."  -Mary Oliver
Restaurant: Le Pichet in Seattle
Saying: Let that shit go
Singer: Erykah Badu
Spouse: Sven of my heart, my life, my one and only for all times
TV Series: Modern Family
Theme Song of your Life: lately it's I'll Call U Back, Erykah Badu
Time of Day: always 2-3 hours later than I want it to be
Toast: any type of sourdough with butter, a pinch of sea salt, and a thin slice of good cheese
Vacation: currently, anything that isn't a desert will do
View: mornings overlooking the water Norway, in winter 
Wake Up Time: 10-11am with Dylan
Work of Art: Cathedral, Normal Lewis
Writing Implement: Pentel Energel 0.5

That's the tiniest little snippet of who I am today.  Maybe later this week if I'm super ambitious (and the naps are cooperative and the house hasn't plunged too far into disarray), we'll post Steven's answers too.

Accurate representation of my current aesthetic

WE HAVE FIRE

Last week, Steven called our maintenance company for probably the 6th or 7th time, but time he used his "Dad voice" and asked how many times we had to call about the same thing before getting it fixed. 

And voila! The very next day our gas detector got replaced.

Sometimes it's nice to be reminded that the simplest (or seemingly so) things can make such a big difference. And while I'm grateful for so many things lately, this is definitely somewhere near the top.

Exactly how I feel every time it works without having to stand on a chair every 2-3 mins

Oven Escapades

Sometimes I think about my time in the UAE and wonder how much these experiences will shape my perspective in the long run. So many little things require 'more' here and while it causes a lot of frustration and requires (seemingly) unending patience to get through in the moment, it also deepens my appreciation for 1) Steven and my ability to figure things out (no matter how irritating), and 2) the comforts of home.

For example, I love to cook and probably make ~80% of what we eat from scratch. I don't do it out of financial necessity, or lack of options (amazing delivery all the time), or gender roles (screw those), etc. I do it because I enjoy the process of creating something new from start to finish.

No matter what kind of housing I was in at home (from dorms to wayy to many 20-something's sharing a house, to apartments, owning our own house), there was always a stove/oven that just turned on. Maybe I made a phone call to put the utility in my name, but it was always a simple process. I turned the knob, heat came out, and I cooked my food for as long as I liked. Done.

But after living in the UAE even my appreciation for this lifelong hobby has changed. First, when we moved to Dubai a few years ago, I realized how much I truly enjoy cooking. And second, now I understand that I've always taken for granted how the heat required for cooking just magically appears when you need it, how you need it, when you need it.

Will I always? Who knows, but get comfy because a way too long story is coming...

Around June-ish I bought a mid-range, Western-style gas oven from a merchant on a buy and sell group on Facebook. After a little barter and some pictures, it was delivered to our apartment (a few days late and at 11pm).

It took us a month to get the gas company out to hook it up (wrong numbers on gas boxes, and vacations, and night hours, and such), only to find out that while the gas line now worked, the oven had the wrong type of gas injection parts. I didn't really retain the details here, other than I couldn't use it until we swapped parts.

Luckily, the merchant that I bought the oven from knew exactly what I meant and came fairly quickly to swap out parts (but after the weeklong holiday, plus a few extra days, of course).

So we had the gas line, gas meter, and gas oven (with correct parts!) all hooked up and ready to go, but the gas detector is/was broken. It's a nifty little device that sounds like an extremely annoying alarm and shuts off your gas when too-high levels are measured in the kitchen. Ours is broken in such a way that the oven only works if we continuously hold down a safety button just under the ceiling.

And no matter how many times we called to get this fixed, no one ever fixed it.  A couple times someone came and just stared at it (seriously).

At one point in early September, Steven asked me to consider just using a hot plate.  But I love me some oven and I loathed having to cook everything using only 1 hot plate burner.  It's super dissatisfying and I gotta get my small joys where I can (out here).

So eventually, I made a duct tape contraption that kinda/sorta holds the button down for short intervals.  It means we have to reach up (Steven) or climb up on a chair (me) to touch the button every 10-ish minutes to keep it held down, but it works.  Sometimes we forget and the alarm goes off, and all the gas needs to be relit, but still...it works.

And even better, within the last week the alarm has graciously run out of whatever power made it scream so loudly, so it doesn't even make horrible sounds anymore. Which means that after 4 months of haggling, and arranging, and appointments that no one shows up for, our stovetop and oven work more or less as expected.  I may get some extra exercise climbing up and down every 10 minutes, but the food tastes the same, the cooking is still satisfying, and I don't have to use the dreaded hotplate.

As a side note, after I started using it more I realized that all the knob symbols (broiler, burner locations, oven temperature setting, timer, etc) looked a little odd. I looked more closely and realized they were all hand drawn with a Sharpie.

And that, my dear friends, sums up my oven escapades pretty nicely.