Baby-stalker
I visited someone’s home today and there was a baby in the kitchen!
Of course, I wasn’t there to converse with the baby — unfortunately — but I did secret-stalk her like mad, since I have not had much experience with very young babies.
Here’s what I can remember from the Close Encounter of the Cute Kind:
- I am apparently not good at judging baby sizes. When I first saw her, I silently figured she was three or four months. She was five weeks. Oops.
- She seemed … um, hunchbacked? No, that’s not quite it. I just figured babies were a bit straighter. This cutie looked like she had no bones in her body — just a squooshy little thing in a sleeper.
- She made noises like a person. I thought babies were either silent or crying. Nope. This one made little “AhAH”-type shreeches and sounds like she was really trying to say things.
- She cried when she got her hair wet in her plastic bathtub.
- She enjoyed her bath once the hair-washing was done. Again, she was kind of slumped over as her mom held onto her and scrubbed her.
- She got the hiccups, and it was freaking adorable. It sounded literally like bubbles being popped.
- She cried off and on for the whole hour I was there. It was not a good sound, and I can see why it drives parents crazy. When the mom stepped out of the kitchen for a second — leaving the baby there — I had to force myself not to run in. It was that hard to resist.
- She only stopped crying when her mom put her in a carseat and rocked her in it.
- While she was rocking, the baby would stop crying and stare at the handle of the carseat — like it was fascinating. The mom said she always does this.
- Right before we left, the mom said she was taking her out for a walk in the stroller. She explained that she only had “a small window” of time before the baby needed to be fed again, and she wanted her to nap first — hence, the stroller. I thought this was interesting — the baby didn’t seem to want to sleep, but the mom knew she should, so was going to do something to make her sleep. I guess you don’t want a cranky baby!
Two times the fun
Got two rejection letters in the last two weeks … and it’s hit me harder than I thought it would. This brings the grand total to four (three publishers, one literary agent) with one more pitch still out for consideration.
One of these publishers had been my top pick, and I just had a good feeling that they would like my novel, so hearing the big N-O was painful. Really painful.
I finally understand why some writers quit writing after getting a slew of rejection letters. I’m definitely not quitting, but I can see how the rejection could drive some people to quit. It’s harsh.
When I worked in the media, I took crap about my writing from tons of strangers — but when it’s just a regular person, you can brush it off. They don’t know sh-t about writing, wouldn’t know a dash from an em dash, blah blah blah.
But getting a rejection — and even some constructive criticism — from a real, live editor, is kind of brutal. I can see why people always say that writers and actors need a thick skin, and accept rejection without taking it personally.
I stopped working on my novel for about 10 days. I was so depressed. It sort of feels like getting negative pregnancy tests. Whether sending my novel out into the world or peeing on a stick, I’m hopeful. I know there’s a chance of rejection (or one line) but I’m always hoping for acceptance (or two lines). To get the big NO — from either — is temporarily crushing, and there are times when I don’t even want to try — or test — because I want to avoid being crushed.
Today was the first morning I started up again, between 6 a.m. and 7:30 a.m. Even though I’m especially tired now, from getting up so early, I feel good. Like I’m doing something to get to the place I want to be.
That’s definitely a sign that I’m doing the right thing. Sometimes I just need a little reminder.
Makin’ a list, checkin’ it twice
I had a reader request to explain my handy-dandy grocery shopping lists, so I thought I would share them with you.
I just created these templates a month ago, but they’ve been lifesavers so far. It has helped me save money, stop wasting food, and we never have to run out for a couple of missed items.
First, I write out my meal plan for the week. On the meals where I know we’ll be eating out or having dinner elsewhere — Mom’s, Darling Husband’s parents, etc. — I put a big X through that meal.
In the “Prepare” section I can easily see what I have to cook that night for the next day. So on the nights where I’m working late, have a condo board meeting, etc., I know that only have time to prepare something quick.
Once I’m happy with my meal plan, I go through it and write out my grocery list. As I’ve mentioned before, Darling Husband is the official grocery-shopper in this family — due to my, ah, cart rage.
I organized these squares according to — roughly — the layout of our local grocery store. Dividing it up into categories really helps when I’m trying to visualize everything I need — and by listing where to find everything, it helps Darling Husband track down my bizarre ingredients.
Tick tock
I am officially convinced that the whole “biologicial clock” thing is real.
I always thought it was just a “saying.” Like, a woman sees a baby and cooes over it, and everyone around her jokes that her biological clock is ticking. Or a woman is older and really, really eager to settle down with Mr. Right, and everyone comments that her biological clock is ticking.
But it’s real.
I always thought people caught baby fever (A) when they got married, or (B) when they reached a certain age, regardless of being married. But in the past week, I have been proven wrong …
Example A: My own lovely mother. She was married to my father for, like, nine years, and they weren’t even sure they ever wanted to have children. Then, one day, it was like a slap in the face — she needed to have a baby.
Lucky for her, I’m pretty precious. A perfect example of how getting married does not necessarily compell you to want kids.
My mother, naturally, seems a little surprised by how young I have been consumed with the fever. But she recognizes the obsession, because it happened to her … just, later.
Example B: I have an accquaintance around my age who is not in a serious relationship. She has had various boyfriends over the last decade, but none of them have been too serious. She is single right now, and she wants a baby just as much as I do.
Crazy, huh? My initial reaction was that she was so young — and single! — to want to get pregnant. But she is basically my age.
Just because I am married, it naturally seemed like I was more in a position to have kids. That is crap, really.
It’s true that part of the reason I want a baby is because I am secure and happy with Darling Husband.
But if I was single, would I still feel this way? Quite possibly, yes.
So my new theory is that it doesn’t matter if you are married or single, young or old — when your biological clock goes off, it is seriously like an alarmbell that you can’t ignore.
Reading material
Am reading Knocked Up … again. For possibly the nine-millionth time.
Rebecca Eckler and I would be good friends, I think, if we ever met. That is all.
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Heather's Handmade Life 