Why I’m Not Writing
I will make no promises to ‘be better’. I’m not saying I’m back at it. I am not reformed. I probably won’t even try harder. However, I will acknowledge I haven’t written shit. In weeks. And I haven’t had much desire to. I’ve got some theories on that. Namely, that I’m still pregnant. Sure, its the final countdown. Weeks, just weeks. Weeks unto days. Give or take. Strike that. I can neither give nor take them. I can only eat lots of spicy food, continue to move as much as I am physically and emotionally able, and prepare. Another continuation. The dogs might be ready (as ready as they are gonna be), but are we?
Instead of writing, that is what I’ve been doing. In all its various forms.
There’s a baby room. It’s mostly complete. Not ready for Pinterest, but let’s face it, infants don’t really thrive on the whole ‘a room of my own thing’ anyway. More importantly, this kid will have a place to sleep. We’ll have the equipment to change dirty diapers for clean.
Maybe even provide a little enrichment and visual stimulus.
Oh, and feed him. He’ll manage to be fed.
All this despite, my best efforts, has cost more than I thought it would. UNsurprised am I. I resisted buying into baby for a long time. I worked on goals. (Accomplished, for those playing along at home.) I saved. I delayed. I plotted and planned. But, the last month or so I’ve had to let down my guard. Even if I’ve got amazing, generous friends to throw me the shower to end all showers, certain things must be bought. Perhaps not a new stitch of clothing – consignment is awesome – but bottles and pacifiers, a spray bottle for reusable butt wipe facilitation, crib mattress for our hand me down crib, diaper cream (with ingredients I can mostly pronounce), things generally not found or not wanted second hand.
All this spending effects me. The loosening of the reigns tends to open the flood gates. To overtly mix metaphors there. Anti-consumer walls tumble. Crash down. Wallets open. Spending leads to more spending leads to more spending, and pretty soon…
The kokeshi you’ve coveted, that you’ve managed to find scant few of at every thrifting opportunity. (Exactly one, to be precise). Well, loosened spending, with a little negotiated pricing, and suddenly it seems like a perfectly good time add a few to what has now become ‘a collection’. Buck the shackles of impending responsible parenthood, one last time. If only it had started and ended with wooden japanese dolls. It did not. That is all I will say.
But, even while I spend I save. Sort of.
I capitalize on the good weather and my obsession with the smell of line dried clothes.
Seriously. Dry your sheets outside, then give them a good sniff. Heaven. No artificial detergent need apply for comparison.
I work on projects for the baby room.
One of a couple that involves free wood and supplies found in my garage. $0. Plenty cute. Or they will be.
And I try (oh how I try) to appreciate what’s going on around me.
Looking so much better than last year’s. I must resist the urge to pluck and poke, hoping its done. Knowing its not.
Reacquainting myself with columnar.
Also in a far better state than just a year ago. Still, perhaps no apples. I’ll take blossoms. As a reminder, that the groundwork I laid, it’s working. That’s comforting. The hope that this year’s very different efforts will do the same.
So it’s not all bad. Yes, a bunch of money is being spent. Has been spent already. Curse you wooden dolls. Once upon a time that would have left me with fleeting feelings of elation. Now it just makes me uncomfortable. Traditionally money exits the building in times of big change – moving, new jobs, and apparently baby having. Being uncomfortable with that is OK. It reminds me how far I’ve come. It might get a little sloppy, but spending isn’t recreational. It’s delayed (sometimes a little too long) and batched and used to facilitate and prepare for the next phase of our life. It’s a tool. Just not one that particularly inspires me to write here.
At least not until I get back to my roots.