Confessions of a List-Maker Gone Maternal

Have I mentioned how much I love to organize with notebooks?  I'm guessing my love of lists permeates this blog.  Many scratched down blogpost ideas involve lists.  It's probably a good thing I don't write all of these blogposts--boredom would underwhelm.

Just before Ramlet was born, I reached the point of needing to replace my primary list notebook.  I knew then my list-making days were about to change.

Non-variety: the consistency of life.

My lists these days are short.  I usually only write a one-page weekly list as opposed to pushing myself to accomplish as much five days out of seven.  And, really, my high priority goals are as follows:

1.  Make the bed.  It gives a day, no matter what hours you're keeping, rhythm.
2.  Take a shower.  Refreshing and relaxing ... and surprisingly hard to plan with a newborn's whimsical schedule.
3.  Do a load of laundry.  Between breastfeeding, cloth diapers, and general infant behavior, laundry piles up quickly.
4.  Get out of the house.  Sitting on the porch: not good enough.  Checking the mail: borderline.  Taking out the trash and recycling: technically accurate, but void of spirit.  Strolling Ramlet around the neighborhood or running an errand (gasp) alone when Husband's watching Ramlet: ideal.
5.  Write something.

#5 is one of three personal objectives I determined will make me a better parent for Ramlet.  The other two?  Well, hopefully, I'll get the chance to share those thoughts before this week is out.  Right now I need to go check on the baby.

Anyone notice the irony of me writing about my overuse of lists and then using one in the same entry?  It's an organizational method I can't avoid.  How do you stay organized?

Ready... Set... Wait....

After two weeks of "nesting" (read: "frenzied preparation panic"), the relentless to-do list shrunk substantially.  The fully geared-up crib, dresser, and diaper bag collect dust.  The birth center bags clutter up corners of the apartment.  Anxiety about sudden early labor wanes; anticipation about actual labor and motherhood fill in the gap.

No complaints about a little extra time ... yet.  Each day my belly tightens more, and Ramlet kicks at my right ribcage to remind me he's coming.  Later I'll work on some other project, but for now I'll rest with my swollen feet propped up and sipping some organic pregnancy tea.



Thanks for the nail polish suggestions--I went with the first vote of Chop-Sticking to My Story!

... or Not.

The events of the past few weeks exemplify the not-so-ready side of me.  The side that is complaining more than proactive, tired more than organized, and late more than considerate.  For instance ....

The apartment.  As mentioned before the move went exceptionally well and the apartment seemed ready: cleaned, freshly painted walls, and shampooed carpet.  As a few days passed, Husband & I noticed a growing list of little, and not-so-little, problems.  The hot/cold water reversed on the washing machine.  The bathtub and bathroom sink didn't drain properly.  The washing machine died working halfway through the first load of laundry; the dryer tossed clothes for 45 minutes without drying them at all.  The grease trap fell out of the oven hood (wrong size piece jimmied in).  The dishwasher soap dispenser wouldn't shut to start the cycle.  The seal on the oven door was falling off and releasing enough heat to burn you if bumped.  The kitchen drawer and oven fought over space--to open the drawer, push the stove one way; to open the broiler, shove it another.  The light switch in the living room activated none of the outlets.  The towel bar in the bathroom drooped to one side--no level needed to see the sloppy installation.  Perhaps some of the complaining, specifically to the Leasing Office, was justifiable.  The rest, not so much.

Sherbet luxuriates in the afternoon sunshine, "The apartment is adequate despite my pet parent's whining."

The pregnancy.  Last week also included a spur-of-the-moment trip to the midwives to discover yet another strange phenomena deemed "normal" for pregnancy (for those of you who have never been pregnant, the list of side effects is endless to the point where the medical community treats symptoms with a mildly concerned, but joking, manner).  For those worried, Ramlet (etymology: a baby Ramsey is a Ramlet much like a baby pig is a piglet) and I are dandy minus the whole competing for room in my abdominal cavity.  The reassuring midwife, after checking our vitals, looked at my chart to recommend when to come in next and casually mentioned how many weeks along I am.  Hmmmm.  Somehow I missed a week.  Now, do I scramble to get more things off of my pre-baby list or simply par down the list?  Naps currently outrank accomplishments.  Good or not-so-much?

The sari dress--still fits and quite the compliment grabber.

The wedding.  Due to poor communication and planning, Husband & I left barely enough time to make the wedding of friends.  Long story short, we pulled a "Portuguese."  (Note: Of the three Portuguese-American weddings I've attended, almost no one shows up to the actual wedding while the reception brims with well-wishers.  I've even seen a woman in house-clothes, rollers in her hair, transformed into a semi-formal fashionista by the time the reception welcomes the bridal party.)  Only this wedding wasn't Portuguese-American.  And, the doors were locked once the ceremony started, which may have been a smart tactic seeing how Ramlet demanded another comfort break minutes after arrival despite recent relief.  Yeek--need to realize I do not control the clock.

Despite the my less-than-stellar recent approach, life continues to surprise and bless.  Internet connection at home--finally!  Got back our security deposit--the entire amount--from the last lease.   Blueberry picking with friends--more on that next time.

What's good in your life?

Vacation: Achieving v. Playing

And it all fit an a small blue library tote bag.

Once again I violated my "Year of No Travel" policy when Husband & I snuck away for a mini-vacation the other weekend.  Four days in borrowed accommodations, down the shore, somewhere we've frequented almost annually.  Even though we moved earlier this same week, we quickly dove into the bliss of no agenda.

Except I nearly strangled this relaxation before we even left our new apartment.  Well, technically, my over-stuffed activities bag almost ruined the leisure true vacations imply.


I like a variety of engaging activities to dabble in when there's no "To Do" list.  So for this vacation I piled on books (2 memoirs, 3 nonfictions, and 1 escapist YA novel), 1 cooking magazine, 2 writing projects, and some drawing supplies (a small sketchbook and a pencil box).  I even considered throwing in a new crocheting project ....  Then, at some point, a sense of needing to use all of these items snuck itself into the tote.

Proving pregnancy isn't an impediment for SkeeBall.

Husband's laughter, as he lugged my heavy bag to the car, cued me in.  I often struggle with validating my day-to-day existence by how much I've created or completed.  Sometimes this mentality of achievement tags along for my vacation.  This, I realized as Husband took another load down to the car, is the opposite intent of a beach trip.  Nothing in the tote needed immediate attention; I needed to play and relax.  Instead of repacking the bag with a more reasonable entertainment selection (because that's the real purpose of an activities bag), I decided to use things when inspired and not worry about taking a few extras.

Spontaneity and playing trumped my false sense of achievement.

What's your approach to a vacation?  Achieving or playing?

The Art of Saying No

I'm not a fan of clutter.

Moving from one home to another simply gives me an excuse to continue cleaning things out.  I've already run by the thrift store with a drop-off of random items.  Also, while contemplating the power of the shredder, I annihilated the no-longer-important papers I thinned out of our files.

Eliminating "baggage" for moving day.

However, when I visited my parents' house the other weekend I complicated my life.  I noticed an entire paper grocery bag full of to-be-discarded cookbooks.  Now, husband and I have more than one shelf of cookbooks.  And, he's always bringing home ideas from his favorite food blogs.  Yet I couldn't help myself.  I needed to peruse those books.  I ended up taking home a few.

The suspects.  Which one hides the best-ever recipe?

Cookbooks allure me with the promise of the perfect recipe hidden just another page away.  I spent too many hours scouring the pages for tasty, unique recipes.  I settled on copying a few easy recipes and keeping only two books.  The "Wine and Wine Cooking" could be a new way to explore food preparation, one bottle at a time.  The "New Baking Book" made my tummy rumble with its mouth-watering pictures.  While I'm proud of myself for not keeping all of them, a part of me wonders why I needed to add even two more cookbooks to our collection.  More stuff is more stuff to pack up, and it doesn't necessarily translate into more living.

What do you have more than enough of, yet can't decline?

Something Achievable

The last 24 hours have been too busy.  I survived Figure Drawing Class.  I set the cat up for her annual visit with a new vet.  Husband and I wrapped up the apartment hunt by securing "The Next Apartment."  We even remembered to belatedly write Mother's Day cards.

This afternoon I was pleasantly surprised to find a very achievable item on my daily list:

NAP

Sometimes taking a break is the best way to accomplish something.  What activites bring balance to your busy life?

The Year of No Travel

Last year my partner and I spent too many nights on the road.  He mostly traveled for work while I scampered about the country visiting family and attending a writing conference.  Last November I calculated via my journal that we'd traveled together, or more often separately, at least once every three weeks almost all year.  

Our previous car turns 100,000.

I began to joke that 2011 would be "The Year of No Travel."  

Then I started taking myself seriously.  What would it be like, I wondered, to not pack my bags every major holiday.  Could we, a no-longer-newly-wed couple, invent our our own holiday traditions?  Take our own "family" vacations?  

Our luggage remained under the bed until this past weekend.  I wanted to be with family for Easter and as part of my birthday month.  Result: I had such a good time  I didn't want to leave when it was time to load up the car!

To make them stay or take me with them?  The cat's quandary.

It seems my "Year of No Travel" resolve weakened a bit in between ping-pong games, laughter, and too much good food.  I've planned a girl's weekend with an out of state friend.  I've also begun coordinating my family for a beach vacation.  Yet, I still want to maintain a day-trips-only attitude for holiday season 2011.  Any suggestions?

How do you balance the desire to travel (and to see loved ones) with creating your own traditions?

Chaos Control

Hardwood floors and this much fuzz...

demanded a new solution:

I grinned the entire time I de-fuzzed the floors, futon, and chairs!

Next up: schedule a trip to Goodwill to drop off the old vacuum and some miscellaneous stuff that doesn't need to be boxed up and moved this next relocation.  And, yes, the apartment hunt continues....

What's your favorite cleaning trick to refresh a room?