I decided not long ago that I need to stop stressing about writing beautifully and start worrying about simply writing. And writing simply. So today I wanted to get back to the basics of this blog and share a bit about what’s happening with me.
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At 11 months old Hutch got to experience his very first July 1st, aka Canada Day, aka the Pride of Mayberry. Every July 1st our whole town triples in size from all the family reunions that are scheduled, and there are three full days of festivities and merriment. This year Hutch got to experience his first pancake breakfast, his first Canada Day parade, his first family reunion, his first dirt bike ride, his first kernel of popcorn, his first firework show, and his first mosquito bite (of many). He did not get to experience his first 2k, 5k, or 10k, nor did he get to revel in the joy of the rodeo or motocross. His parents are mean I suppose.
I made him wear this vintage (judging from the polyester fabric, the cut of the overalls, and the retro font on the shirt, I’m guessing 70’s-era) outfit that I’d bought nearly a year before, back when he was still in the womb. I found it in a pile of clothes at a yard sale and would never have paid cash money for it but the seller threw it in with everything else. I thought he looked adorable and hilarious. Poor Kyle thought he looked absurd. He wouldn’t let me keep Hutch in it all day, so all I have are a few quickly snapped photos, but it was worth it. It’s probably even worth keeping for the next several years so that any other children that might come our way can carry on the tradition.
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On July 2nd my year-long maternity leave ended and I started back to work. (No, Hutch has not turned one year old yet. I actually took a month off before his due date to get things ready around the house because it turns out an 8-month pregnant woman working full time in the heat of summer has very little energy to nest, despite her best intentions.)
My boss has been amazing and agreed to let me work 1/2 the time I used to work, and from home. When I tell people this they usually express extreme awe and happiness for me. I usually agree—it’s very good fortune to have such a flexible company and boss to work for. Getting into a routine and learning to balance Hutch’s demands with my job’s demands has been stressful, but I can’t deny it has been nice to have creative projects on my mind again.
I’m still having tech issues with working from home, the main one being that my internet is pretty slow. As my job is 90% internet-based, this has become extremely problematic for me. Kyle and I are discussing switching providers and upgrading to the fastest package—to the tune of almost $200/month—but the main deterrent is that, well, it will be almost $200/month. Absurd, I know.
A friend and I were discussing this not long ago and we both agree that free, fast internet should be an inalienable right. Everyone should have it, everywhere, always. #dreamworld
In other news, I started hashtagging my own blog posts. #weird #orcool #youchoose
As the end of my maternity leave drew near, I found myself reflecting on the past year, mainly in the sense of all the regrets I have. I did not accomplish as much professionally, economically, creatively, or house-designally as I had planned to back in July of 2013. Back then, before Hutch was born, I expected maternity leave to be like a year’s paid vacation. I had visions of myself working out, taking walks, juicing veggies on a regular basis, sitting in my pristine house and cuddling my baby for exactly 11 months. In addition to that, I also planned on writing triple the amount I’d been writing on this blog, submitting work to be published, finishing my manuscript for my book, starting a garden, and learning Cantonese.
As it turns out the only major things I actually accomplished over the past 12 months were visiting Arizona three times with my baby, and keeping said baby alive.
It’s disappointing to fall so very short of one’s own expectations, but I’m getting so good at it that pretty soon I will come to expect such failure of myself, which will be perfect because, as a chronic failer-of-expectations, I will fail to meet even that newly lowered expectation, and the only way to fail at failing will be to achieve greatness once and for all—at last. Meaning, of course, that I will have passed through the entire spectrum of failure and emerged the other side victorious. And successful.
That’s the idea anyway.
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In more other news, Hutch has officially become a whirlwind of destruction:
#lilshit
