Child's Play

As I prepare for tomorrow's departure from Houston, it's natural to look back at the last few years and think about the big picture.  In between packing boxes, playing with the baby and stopping for an occasional deep breath (usually while reaching for an adult beverage), I have had to periodically reminding myself that this uncomfortable transition will be over soon and we will obviously make it through.  My thoughts turn next to all of the things that have happened to us here.

Houston has felt to me like a life-sized, three-dimensional game of Chutes and Ladders.  Mostly ladders that have enriched our lives, and made us stronger, happier and more prosperous, but also a few big chutes, where we having been going along and then found ourselves thrown abruptly a few steps backward, scratching our heads in dismay.  It has been a time of extremes and big lessons in adulthood.

Luckily, the sum total is overwhelmingly positive, so while I am hoping for slightly lower number of surprises in the next few years, it would be folly to wish them away entirely.  Instead, my focus is on improving my ability to roll with it when they inevitably come.

On that note, until next time, Houston.  Thank you for the adventures, and thank you for being better than expected.

But You Can Still Be Friends

Isn't it always the case that after you break up, the other party pulls it together and then you can't remember why you wanted to break up?  He gets off the couch, quits the fantasy football league, shuts off the TV, and finally starts the company that he kept talking about while you hung around offering encouragement...he loses ten pounds, he starts cooking, he goes dancing...basically he does all of the things that you had wished could happen while you were together, but he does them with someone else.

Houston is doing that to me a little bit right now.  I have been hanging around, waiting for Houston to come into its creative own, looking for signs of creative life.  Hints of it surfaced here and there, but still it has sometimes felt difficult to actually find people to do creative things with.

Last week, literally weeks before our departure, a new place opened for people to rent space and make things.  People close to me know that I have wanted to try this for sewing; every time I pack up my heavy machines that do not get daily use, I wonder why more us don't share these things.  I have even sketched out a rough idea for a business model.  But the constant moving has stopped me from actually going for it because I was terrified of having to leave it behind.  Anyway, I'm not bitter that someone else did it first; I'm happy it exists because it makes so much sense.  I'm just disappointed that it didn't happen two years ago, when I could be part of it.

Regardless, Houston, you are looking better already, and I'm sure it's not out of the question that I will be back.  Maybe we will make things together at some point in the future.  In the meantime, good luck to Houston Makerspace!

(I couldn't help but add the photo of this cool bus stop bench around the corner.)

You Have to Break Up with a Place

Living in Houston has been nothing like I imagined it would be, way back when I first realized that I would inevitably be moving here.  The last two and half years have been pleasant, relaxing (in between life curve-balls which were not Houston-specific), and a nice time of both connecting and re-connecting with friends.  Getting set up was fast and hassle-free compared to past locations.  It turns out that extricating ourselves is the tricky part.

We are in the process of selling our house, which is a pain in the patoot, as I always suspected doing such a thing would be.  The trouble is mostly due to managing baby paraphernalia and a baby schedule in the face of unpredictable periods of exile, and the fact that our first offer fell through, slowing down the process of finding the correct buyers.  Since the first offer came within days of listing the property, we were faced with wrapping up our life in Houston in a few short weeks, a prospect which left me feeling sad and slightly frazzled.

Rattled

Our baby was a month early and it still sometimes feels like I'm cramming to catch up; he's growing up fast and it's not easy to keep abreast of the changes.  I finally made him a toy rattle, and I'm pretty sure he would have enjoyed it even more a month or two ago, but he still took some time to check it out before breakfast this morning.

As our move plans remain in limbo, I'm trying to stay distracted with projects like this one, which seem to collect both in my brain and in our physical space.  It's always nice to cross something off a list, especially when I can use up leftover bits of yarn and materials.  This project is from a book of knitting projects for babies called Natural Nursery Knits.

Mini Rant

Dear Random Man Who Believes Secession is the Solution,

I frequently run past your truck while you are working in my neighborhood and your "Secede" bumper sticker gets me riled up every time I see it.

I just want you to know that Texas will run out of oil, and therefore its primary means of supporting itself, long before the rest of us will exhaust our ability to govern ourselves peacefully and without you.

I guess your expenses will remain low, since your government only convenes briefly once every two years and doesn't believe in raising taxes to maintain infrastructure.  Unfortunately though, your crumbling sidewalks will disintegrate completely, your aging highways will cease to allow the passage of vehicles from far-away ranches to urban workplaces, and your citizens who lack healthcare and education will gradually bankrupt the rest of your citizens who do not see the link between themselves and those who go regularly without.  However, I am sure you will resolve all of that whenever your leaders finally reconvene in a couple years.

Maybe the nation of Texas will have enough water, but I guess if you don't you will figure something out.  I'm sure you won't need any help recovering from any drought, hurricane or fire issues like you have in the past, or any financial aid like the $44 billion dollars you received from the United States federal government in 2010.

Anyway, it sounds like you have thought long and hard about this, and we wish you the best.

Warm regards, and we will see you at the U.N.,

The Rest of the States

Make Stuff and Carry On

Selling a house is a drag, and I can report that trying to sell a house while home alone for a month with a seven-month old is an extreme drag.  I felt pretty good for the first three weeks but this week my spirits are low, I can't lie.  While it may not be a long time in the life of a home sale, this month feels to me like it may never end.

Since my time is largely spent either alone or with a couple of sweet creatures who can't understand a word I'm saying, I have a lot of time to think.  As a result, I have wavered occasionally about our plan...too soon?  Too much?  Not the right time?  At other points, I have started to consider even more drastic options, like keeping the house and renting it out instead of selling it, or just getting an apartment in Minnesota but not really making a final decision about the house in Houston until next year.  We made the hard decision and now I just want to get started on the next phase.

In the meantime, I have stolen a few hours here and there for making things.  I can't get involved in anything too messy or complicated, in case of a sudden house-showing evacuation, so that eliminates a lot of what I was hoping to work on this year. But on the other hand, there are other projects; patterns and projects which can still provide both opportunities for learning and also just the pleasure of making.  I recently made this bag from a pattern in a cool book called Linen Wool Cotton.  It turned out that the pattern had some mistakes, but the book remains beautiful and inspiring.

A Wise Maker Said (Last Weekend On the Radio)

Last weekend I turned on the radio just in time to hear a snippet of a program to which I rarely listen, but my interest was piqued by the discussion.  The guest was an artist whose name is Ann Hamilton.  Someone asked her how being a maker (the title she prefers over artist) and a teacher and a parent inform each other, and also how she keeps the maker "alive with enough nourishment, how to not claw at the small amount of time/space in [her] head?"  And this question resonated with me, as I'm sure it does with many people who feel that they fight for bits of time in order to bring their ideas to life.

I don't know anything about this artist, so I have no idea what her work or her teaching are like, but her voice was calm and her response was soothing.  Just listening to her response made me feel instantly more relaxed about what I might be able to do in the coming days, weeks, years. I could feel my brow loosening and my shoulders unfolding as she responded to the question.

I Want the Village

We were never supposed to move to Houston.  My husband and I agreed when we got married that we would never move to Houston; we were united in our sense that it was the wrong place to build our lives, in spite of his professional opportunities there.  Geography has been a tricky puzzle for us from day one, but we believed we would eventually find a way around it.

That was seven-ish years ago.  The surprise we have felt at not hating life in Houston, and even rather enjoying it, has been noted on many occasions in this blog; and has been accompanied by multiple other surprises since moving here.

Finally

It’s been busy.  

My husband and I just returned from taking our baby on a trip to Missouri to see family. We spent four days in a house with six other people, bringing the household total to nine people, ranging in age from six months to forty-six years. We arrived in time for an ice storm and were essentially snowed in until our departure.  It was our first trip with the baby, and while it went well, it was intense.  I still can't believe that I was one of those people at the airport that I always pitied in the past (a person with a baby and a stroller and car seat and unbelievable amounts of shit in my luggage and carry-ons).

In spite of snow days and trips, I finally made something practical for the baby, with extra bits I already had, instead of buying new stuff:

I borrowed the pattern from some other bibs given to us as gifts, and used my serger to keep it fast and simple.  The material came from a hand-me-down baby blanket that we did not need.  They are not beautiful, but they are something that I made with resources I already had, which felt good.  As the baby starts to eat real food, I am coming to realize that I will need many, many, many bibs.  And a sense of humor.

Also, we’re moving.  Stay tuned.

Backing Into the Day

My husband backs into every single parking space that he uses.  When we first met it was mysterious to me, and I won't lie, odd.  Over time I have become used to it and have ferreted out the reason: he was brainwashed by his former employer of ten years.  There are many things about that company that I did not appreciate, but on this particular matter, their intentions were good.

Apparently, backing into parking spaces increases the rates of safe driving (or should I say 'decreases the rate of accidents while driving'?).  The logic is that we are paying more attention to the matter at hand when we arrive at a location than we do when are when we are departing.  When we depart, we are already thinking about what will be next after leaving the parking lot.  In other words, while we are driving in reverse, our minds are on other things.  Thus, accidents.

I have a habit of preparing for my next day as much as I can the night before.  Mostly it is a leftover habit from when I had to wake up outrageously early in the mornings for work; I tried to pack items I would need for the day and leave them by the door, or place items that I was likely to forget with items that I couldn't possibly leave without (i.e. put the book that I was likely to forget next the keys that I was physically unable to leave without). Planning outfits the night before, or packing lunches the night before, produces this same effect.  We try to dummy-proof our morning in order to maximize precious minutes.

I find that I am happiest when I do the same thing as a mom; it turns out that it is the best way to steal time in which to work on non-mom projects.  While I do not often have to leave the house early, I do still need to maximize hands-free and baby-free minutes.  So I do things like putting out my breakfast cereal bowl, pre-filled, and preparing the baby's morning bottle and diaper bag, before I go to bed.  It's not rocket science, nor is it a new technique.  The only innovation is that I now refer to it as backing into my day, which also has helped my husband understand these habits not as something neurotic and silly, but something that makes all of us have a smoother, more pleasant morning.

Backing into my day is one life strategy which allowed me to finish knitting a vest this week for my son, luckily while it still fits him.

2014

It is New Year's Eve, a holiday that I adore.  I'm a new-year super-geek.  Even home with only a sleeping five-month-old and a glass of champagne, missing my husband and feeling a smidge lonely, I still love the new year.  It is a holiday of closure but also possibilities, and I especially love possibilities. Everything is all fresh and tidy and optimistic again.  A new year feels like a free pass to try and do things better this time, even if it wasn't great last time.

Happy Birthday!

My husband left today to go back to work in Angola.  Today is also his birthday, and he was feeling a little old and slightly less than awesome when he left the house at 6:30 this morning, so I feel compelled to proclaim to the cyber-world some things that are awesome about him:

Happy Holidays in Houston

Rotation Mom

My husband works what is known in the oil industry as "a rotation".  More specifically, it is known as "an even rotation", meaning that he works a certain number of days, and then goes on an identical number of "days off" (oil-speak for days of separation from work, or what normal people call the weekend or a vacation).  The only way to experience the magic of an even rotation is to work somewhere that is considered a "hardship location" (oil-speak for places shitty and largely inaccessible to casual visitors or interested parties).  When we met, he was working an even rotation (two weeks on, two weeks off) on the North Slope of Alaska.  Currently he works an even rotation (four weeks on, four weeks off), in Luanda, the capital city of Angola.  Some people actually do not consider Angola a shitty place to live, and expats are apparently flocking there. Even so, since it is nearly impossible to get a visitor visa, all food has to be imported, the civil war hasn't been over for that long, and possibly other reasons, it is still more commonly a rotation location than a transfer location.



The upshot of all of this is that for twenty-eight days in a row, I am not only home alone with a baby, but I am also separated by a seven-hour time difference for twenty-eight days from his dad, who is also my husband and my best friend. We depend on a strong internet connection for voice and video communication, and catching a flight for a quick visit is not an option.  After those twenty-eight days pass, we are reunited as a family for what feels like twenty-eight days of weekend.  I've started to leave the house a lot during that time, so he can see how it feels to be a single parent.

Just kidding.

You can't think like that if you choose to do life this way, even though I have been tempted to do so on the rough days.  I imagine thinking like that is trouble and can only lead to bad blood and hurt feelings.  I said that I would give this an honest try for a year, and I am doing my best to support our choice.

Rotation life is tricky, and I'm still not totally sold on it.  It scares me to think of what could happen to our son if I got sick, and it's a bummer to not have a co-parent to check in with during a bout of screaming or a suspicious unidentified inflammation.  At times it feels that we are living two entirely different lives, which in my opinion is not conducive the team-building vibe that marriage requires.  Additionally, we have not yet figured out how to balance our needs for couple-time, family-time, friend-time, extended family time and maybe a non-family related vacation once and a while, all in exactly fifty percent of his days.  As a result, I find myself clingy and cantankerous prior to his departures, which is not at all my way when times are normal.  Also, it's just considerably less fun for twenty-eight days, plus a few awkward transition days on either end of the rotation.

I often wonder what others would do if they were in our shoes.  If they reviewed the same math, weighed the pros and cons, and considered the true impact of the circumstances of their work lives, would they be tempted to try this, as we have been?  What is their price?  Everyone must have a price.  We have weighed options, numbers, and calendars and on some level we must have determined that his particular day rate was worth the pain of the separation, at least temporarily.  We have considered his schedule and concluded that having approximately 180 days off a year together without other obligations is worth living in separate countries for the other 180ish days.  We have reflected on the fact that a full-time job for him in Houston would give him more frequent and regular time with our son (i.e. most evenings and weekends), but not necessarily more quality time with him since mornings and days are when he is the happiest and most interactive.

However, in spite of my doubt, I can report that some of the rumored perks of rotation life have surfaced now that I am emerging from my newborn-care cave.  My husband has been home for a few weeks and many of the days have felt like a nice long weekend days with all of us spending time together and with him being a full-time dad, while giving me some breaks from my daily grind activities.  We enjoy breakfasts out on weekdays and we share parenting duties very equitably.  He gives me breaks to be crafty and get back in shape, I give him breaks to study for his master's degree.  The other fifty percent of the time, we both have full-time jobs: his job is to support us financially and my job is to sustain the home and family operations.  I'm still not convinced that I want this for the long term, but I hate it less this "hitch" than I did last time around, so who knows what our conclusion will be.

I'm curious who else out there who would try it.

Cliff Notes: Newborns

Many of my friends are either pregnant or are planning to be not far in the future, but have not really spent much time with babies, just as I had not prior to the arrival of our son.  This post is for you.  It is a wee primer on what I have learned so far, and truth be told, it would have helped me enormously to know these things before coming home from the hospital with a tiny infant in my care.

• White noise is not cheating.  It is a necessity, not a crutch.  Apparently it recreates the whooshing noisy atmosphere of the womb, where your new baby surprisingly would prefer to be.  Restaurants are also sometimes good for the white noise effect, although this can backfire.
• Most babies want to be held most of the time. Enjoy this before they get heavy and squirmy.
• Motion is essential: rocking, car rides, swings, jiggling, and walking all count.
• Babies, even if full-term, are not finished developing yet when they are born.  They can't hold anything except your finger and they can only see approximately twelve inches from their faces.
• Things that are snuggly and close-fitting (and that seem as though they would be terribly uncomfortable) are soothing to the tiny ones.  Hence, swaddles.  They also can't control their arms, and they hit themselves in the face as a result.  The hitting results in them being startled or woken up.  Really, check out swaddling.  
• Babies, much like my husband, use sleep as a system lockdown if they are overwhelmed.  They are easily and often over-stimulated.  Normal everyday settings, such as Target or a neighborhood park, or even a visit with an overly enthusiastic loved one, are sensory explosions and can provoke either crying or sleeping, or both.  This is why you see sleepy, blissfully unaware babies in their carriers at restaurants.  
• Tiny children love tiny babies.  They say "baby" or something like it, and point, when you walk by with your baby.
• When babies "tell you" that they are hungry, there are specific signs.  Even baby amateurs like me can learn the signs.  Newborns are hungry all the time.  I'm not exaggerating.  Their stomachs are the size of a marble when they are born and grow to the size of an egg by their tenth day.  Which explains why they need to eat so often and why they become ornery if you overfeed them-there is no room in there!
• Toys that appear cheesy and lame seem to make babies (and then as a result even their hipster design-obsessed parents) happy.
• Babies look longer at things that surprise them and they look away from things that bore them.
• Babies have to learn to connect their sleep cycles.  They learn to do this by learning how to self-soothe in-between the cycles (which are shorter than adult sleep cycles).  If they fall back asleep on their own even once, that is the beginning of them sleeping through the night.
• Babies are a great excuse to stay home, take it easy and/or to go to bed early.

Stroller Walking

The sidewalks of Houston are a study in extreme disrepair.  They are broken, multi-level, interrupted, sometimes non-existent, often blocked by vehicles, frequently encroached on by rowdy plant matter, and definitely not wheelchair or stroller-friendly.  As a result, I expected to grow extremely annoyed with my neighborhood while walking with the stroller.  The opposite has happened; I have grown more fond of this area as our daily walks have caused me to notice more features which have further endeared it to me.  Also I feel gratitude for the sturdy construction of our stroller.

I discovered, and later visited, a museum of print history.  It is on a side street and in an unassuming building that I almost didn't notice when I initially passed by.  Eventually it turned out to be a pleasant and stroller-friendly activity while my mom was visiting for the weekend.  It was especially excellent that there was a food truck out front and we were pleased with said truck's offerings.

Another Festival of Quilts

I can't believe it's been a year since I went to the Quilt Festival here in Houston.  Suddenly it's that time again.  I heard on the radio this week that the festival draws over sixty-thousand attendees and that quilters spend more money on quilting than hunters spend on hunting and golfers spend on golf, which kind of boggles the mind.  Regardless of the hoopla, I just go to see the amazing display quilts from around the world.

It is bizarre how everything is different in my life than it was a year ago, and it all started just after the festival last year.  Last year I hung around the festival with my camera for hours, exploring and admiring the art.  This year, I raced around the festival with my camera in my diaper bag and my baby in the stroller.  I held my breath for most of the time and finally did a slower, more leisurely stroll only after I was certain that I had seen the highlights, lest I miss anything if the baby erupted.  But he hung in there, and I enjoyed a decent overview.

I was not as taken with this year's quilts as I was with those from last year, but they were beautiful and inspiring nonetheless.  The highlights for me this year were other details, like the fact that the friendly and enthusiastic ticket-taker at the door greeted me with "You must be from Wisconsin!", which was remarkable since I had never seen him in my life.  Even though I'm not from Wisconsin, from down here Minnesota and Wisconsin are essentially the same thing, so I was willing to consider that an accurate statement. Then I realized that he figured it out because I was wearing a sleeveless top and it was only 72 degrees outside.  For Houstonians, this constitutes a chill in the air.

Another aspect of the festival that amused me this year that I didn't notice last year was the husband's lounge.  It was a walled-off area in the back of the convention hall equipped with a big TV and a bunch of comfy armchairs and lounge chairs.  Pretty smart, and thoughtful, in my opinion.

There was something else I noticed this year that had nothing to do with quilts.  I noticed how many people in the world love babies.  As a person who has always feared them desperately, this fact never ceases to amaze me.  A sleeping baby in a stroller is a grandma magnet, and I was in a convention hall overflowing with grannies.  It's really fun walking past people who reflexively smile and get a little dreamy, giggly look on their faces when they look at your tiny companion.

Regardless, there were also beautiful quilts.  Here is a sampling of what I saw:

Better Living Through Day Care

It is not my intention to drink margaritas every time that every time our son goes to day care, that's just how it worked out on the first day we tried it.

I wish I had spent more time before our son was born considering child care options.  I did not engage in any kind of serious search since I did not intend to start working in the time immediately following his birth.  I was planning to start making some lists of possibilities in the eighth month, but his early arrival trumped that plan.  To be honest, I wasn't sure what I needed or wanted, or if I needed any help at all. 

Unbalanced

The hardest thing for me so far in the baby adventure has been to find a balance between all things baby and all other things. I am clearly only one of millions to lament this challenge.

Prior to our son, I had unscheduled, low-pressure, not-so-career-path days.  I've always been good at entertaining myself.  I'm pretty sure the last time I felt bored was sometime in 2008.  Now, almost three months after his birth, I have to admit to harboring a little envy towards my friends who have jobs that they really value.  I expected motherhood to feel like an extension of my happy-at-home feeling, but I'm not sure if that is how it's turning out.  Our son is a sweet and lovely little boy, and I am beyond grateful to have the time to invest in his well-being, but my crafty creative urges and goals feel like they are withering on the vine and it worries me.  I even miss cooking, which is surprising.

One of my favorite resources on parenting so far is a book a read called Bringing Up Bébé.  I initially read this book before I was sure I wanted to have a baby, because it sounded interesting.  It was a great read, both before and during pregnancy.  It is funny, clear-eyed, culturally relevant, and well-written; truly an honest take on parenting, for Americans not just in France, but anywhere.  I just finished reading it for a third time right now, in-between nursing sessions, diaper changes, and hastily knit rows, to scan for any techniques that might help us remain calm and level-headed through the newborn grind.  Maybe it's a coincidence, but in my opinion, a few tidbits that I reviewed last week helped us achieve our first full nights of infant sleep since we brought the baby home from the hospital.

Baby Blanket