Mommy wants a drink-poo?
I don’t really drink.
I add “really” because it’s true that I do drink, occassionally. Once every couple of months, during get-togethers with friends, I will have a couple of drinks to get a “giddy fun buzz.” That is the extent of my drinking — it’s for a purpose, you might say.
It’s not because I am “against” drinking. I just hate beer … and wine … and hard liquor, unless it’s in a half-ounce dose, mixed with club soda. I don’t like the taste of any of it, and I don’t like the feeling of losing control. That combination pretty much equals me not drinking.
This is sometimes hard, because I am constantly defending myself. Fighting preggo rumours. Feeling pressure to drink when I just want a freaking Diet Coke. I don’t care if you’re drinking a martini, I feel like saying, so why can’t I just drink this?
Because of all of this, I have never been one of those people who bemoaned not drinking for nine-plus months. It won’t really be any different than usual.
But I came across an article yesterday that suggests that mommies … um … like to hit the bottle? Seriously. It said that even moms who didn’t really drink much before they had kids were having a few drinks every single night. As soon as their baby can take a bottle, they are “pumping and dumping” so they can have a drink.
Does this mean I am destined to be a boozer? Ah, I don’t think so. But it is interesting that having kids could … and would … drive some women to drink. The article went on to say that they drank to “blur the edges,” and have some fun besides laundry and carpooling.
I don’t think this is the case for everyone, of course. The moms who turn to mucho alcohol-o probably loved to party and drink before having kids, so it’s natural that they turn back to their old “vice.”
As for me, I think a baby screaming for hours would definitely drive me to potato chips. They don’t come in a pretty cocktail glass, but hey — a vice is a vice.
Ticker talk
Big design changes here at Laptops to Lullabies. Or very minor changes that are only noticeable to me? Yeah, maybe it’s that.
The biggest news is that I took down our how-long-until-we-can-try ticker:
… and replaced it with this when-is-the-best-time-to-try
ticker:
Yup, it’s offical. With Best Friend’s wedding just over a week away, we officially are in the “safe zone.” There will be no altar-puking. There will be no dress-not-fitting drama. I will be feeling and looking great on her big day, so I can relax and enjoy it, which is a huge relief.
We were originally planning on trying on her actual wedding night, but a whole lot of boring cycle-business means the best time to try in July is mid-week — just few days before the wedding. So we are going to try then, for a couple of reasons …
A) I’m impatient
B) It’s unlikely that it will happen on the first try
C) Even if it worked, I will not be puking or bulging three days after conception. I won’t even be able to take a test until the end of the month.
D) I want to conceive in July, August or September (if humanly possible) so I’m not nine months preggo in the summer heat
So yup, a week from now is when the big TTC journey begins! Darling Husband Some people thought it was not necessary to announce my cycle to the entire blogosphere, but as I explained (very patiently) to him …
– You get the cute TTC ticker
– Then you get the preggo ticker
– Then you get the baby birthday ticker
– And then the kid birthday ticker
– And so on, and so on …
I know tickers are dumb, but there is something very adorable to me about how it keeps track of time for me. It’s like a modern convenience — who am I to not accept a free ticker, really?
The aftermath …
My mind was on overdrive yesterday — as you could probably tell by my quarter-life-crisis post.
I’ve had some questions about what it all meant, so here goes:
- I have no plans to quit my job. I have, however, accepted that I need something more creative.
- I am more certain than ever than I
wantneed to be a writer. - I am still 100% determined to publish my novel, and am going to continue pitching it — there are still three queries out there.
- I realize I need to keep my current full-time job in the meantime. Until the day that writing can be my full-time job, I am going to be mega-strict about getting up early to get in a couple of hours of writing before work.
- I am going to throw myself into my next novel — outline is finished, few chapters are done.
- I am going to keep going strong with freelance opportunities, because they give me a chance to write professionally.
- I am not going to lose sight of my goal of being a published novelist.
- I am going to be grateful for my job, and do everything I can to enjoy aspects of it more
Whew! What a list of affirmations, huh?
Believe it or not, I’m feeling much better than yesterday. I got up early this morning to write, and it felt tiring great knowing that I’m doing something to help me reach my goal. If I can do 1,000 words or more every morning, it will add up quickly.
Because I’m certainly not going to get published by doing nothing but cranking out budgets and schedules, right? Nobody would buy that book!
My quarter-life crisis arrived right on schedule
I think I had a breakdown breakthrough today.
Or maybe a quarter-life crisis?
I was sitting at my desk, as usual. I was feeling the Monday blahs. At the office, there are waves of stressful times, and waves of quiet times, but the feeling remains.
It hasn’t been for a long time.
Or maybe ever.
I said before that I used to have a super-creative, fun job in journalism. And without going into details, it was the best freaking job ever. The job I went to school to do. The job that gave me (minimal) fame, and tons of amazing perks.
I honestly thought I would be doing that forever, but when our company was essentially shut down, I was sent scrambling for a new job.
I found another job.
In another field.
When they offered me the position, I took it happily.
But inside, I wondered if I was doing the right thing.
But inside, I wondered if I was doing the right thing.
The money was better, but I was worried I would get bored being a management-type. That I wouldn’t get a chance to be creative. That I would be trading my special talents for my ability to organize and write tidy e-mails.
But Darling Husband and I were just months away from our wedding. We needed a second income. We had the mortgage and car payments and a zillion other grown-up bills.
I took the job.
It was — and is — a good job. Very busy, but I like a good pace. Even though it was a completely new field, I picked it up quickly. My colleagues were (are) really great. I moved up the ladder a bit.
But it was kind of like … being an assistant manager in a boutique, after a long stint of being the clothing designer. Fast-paced but monotonous. The ability to excel at your job, but then realize that your entire job is just ensuring that the creative types are happy/organized/on track/on budget/meeting deadlines.
I used to be one of thoes creative types.
And now I’m catering to them.
Scheduling and organizing them.
And when I have a creative suggestion?
They look at me like I’m just a secretary.
You can see how this is a problem.
For months now, I have been trying to change my attitude and reason with myself that maybe this is just what working life is like. Maybe it’s normal to feel your job is lacking a spark. Maybe I was spoiled by my first job, getting to write about whatever the hell I wanted and getting snazzy media passes that made me feel like a big-shot.
But then I realized that I’m only 25. If I start settling now, I’m going to have a very depressing career ahead of me. Some people change careers and go back to school in their 40s and 50s. They work for 20 years as a lawyer, and then wake up and decide they want to teach — so that’s what they do. Very inspiring.
So today, in the midst of a blah-as-usual Monday afternoon, I was finally honest with myself. This job is a good job, and while I’m proud to be doing it, it’s not for me. Just because I’m good at it, doesn’t mean it’s what I should be doing.
I’m a writer, and that’s what I need to be.
Someday.
Someday.
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Heather's Handmade Life 