Universe, I Need A Raise

Please know, dear blogosphere, that I've had a really strong cup of coffee.

I told my husband this morning that last night I gave up. I was up with our son for about an hour in the middle of the night helping him settle down after a nightmare. Drew (The Husband) thought when I said "I gave up" that I had somehow lost my parenting marbles at 3 in the morning and plunged Will (The Son)'s head into a hot fudge sundae and then built a ball pit in our bathroom.

"It's OK that you gave up. It was late and whatever you needed to do to get him to sleep, I support you."

"Oh, no," I said, "That was fine. I meant I gave up on all my hopes and dreams last night."

Short pause as he pours coffee, then "Ah. Way to go, Job."

And I did by the way actually lie in bed last night (after having helped my son rank the twenty-five different angles at which his feet could possibly be tucked under his blanket) and say, out loud, "Universe, I give up. I give up. I give up."

I'm not sad or depressed or despondent. I think life is pretty awesome. The people in my life are exceptional. Drew and I are happy. My son floats around on a tiny little motor-powered cloud and emits sunshine and I have to keep my mouth shut about how fabulous he is 90 percent of the time I'm thinking it so I don't sound nuts and so the women (or men, whatever works) in his life in the future have half a chance.

However, there's a lot of half-fixed stuff in my life that I thought I was going to complete through sheer willpower, or chutzpah, or by singing a song from Mary Poppins (and I do the most awesome Julie Andrews accent, which is all the better when it comes out of a Jewish-Puerto Rican person like myself). My apartment is half-nice, but then you open the door to our bedroom and the zombies fall out. Our kitchen cabinets are about to FALL OFF THE WALL (it's kooky) and we don't have the money to fix them. We're halfway out of an enormous debt. My current job is cool, but I'm still really broke, and it's not what I want to do for the rest of my life. I don't blog enough and I haven't finshed a big project for my dad's business that I promised him I would do. I got all the plants in on our deck but the deck itself looks like the opening credits of "Sanford and Son". My husband is sick right now, and just lost a big client, and I feel like we're blankly staring into the future, blinking occassionally, not really knowing how to pull it off.

I'm out of optimism. I need it all to come together already. I've spent ten years saying it will, and some of it plain hasn't and just might not. I need a clean, completed house, I need a rollicking career. I need, it seems like, a hundred thousand dollars to politely climb up my yoga pants leg and into my pocket. And Universe, you know me, I'll pay this jazz back tenfold, but really, I give up.

Help, please. You know where to find me. Still love you, Universe.

Jen

Rufus Wainwright - 11:11 at UofP

11:11

#22 -- A wish for peace, everywhere

I don't want to write much today, although I have a couple of essays brewing. With apologies to RR, here's the John Donne quote from Meditation XVII Governor Spitzer read today at the 9/11 Memorial, which says it best for me:

"Any man's death diminishes me, because I am involved in mankind, and therefore never send to know for whom the bells tolls; it tolls for thee."

Couldn't find any video of the NYPD Emerald Pipe and Drum Society, but Rufus Wainwright's 11:11 should post here shortly (come on YouTube, you can do it).

My friend Sally Herships conducted an oral history project in the weeks following 9/11 where she and Laura Dotterer interviewed over 200 members of the public about their reactions and experiences to 9/11. More information is here:

http://www.documentnewyork.com/Newsday.pdf

http://www.sohosally.com/sound/listen.html under “Special Projects”

Much love to everyone today.

#4: Help me to keep my eyes open to the gifts i'm being given, or, Duh.

I reviewed the last entry and mentally smacked myself in the forehead, which by the way still smarted just a bit.

I'm overweight. I'm just overweight enough to not be clinically obese, but I'm too damn overweight. I've made several attempts to lose it. Methods have ranged from by burning calories by complaining to smaller portions of dinner without changing much else.

This time I'm on an actual diet and actually exercising and by exercising I don't mean the ten sun salutations I slog through every so often. I mean running.

Encouragement from my best friend to go to the gym has helped as has general advice from my husband, a former college track runner whose primary nicknames were 'Legs' and 'Tiger'. Both of which are hot, and both of which I must start calling him again immediately, come to think of it.

The thing that tipped the scales for me was my son's pediatrician. Who by the way is tiny and cute and a wonderful doctor and if he would let me I'd put him in my pocket and have him live there.

When my son was first born I was scared I'd pass on some of my lesser traits to him (depression, asthma, addicition to Molly Ringwald movies). The asthma was the big fear, because having it as a kid terrified me. On any given day, you just suddenly can't breathe.

When I talked to Pocket Doctor about it he gave me some nutritonal advice and things to look for but the best thing he said to me personally was this: There's really no such thing as exercise induced asthma. You get that when you've never been toned or trained properly to be active (hmm, that's me), and then are forced to be too active (my high school gym teachers, who addressed everything from your period to a broken leg with "Stick a FIST in it! Walk it OFF!").

So, in the last couple of weeks I've determined that the time is at hand to get in control of my health and weight. The biggest motivator is honestly that my son is quite the climber, and I don't want to be the parent watching him be active from the sidelines and wishing I had the strength to do it myself. Cause that's lame.

And also so, I spoke to a total stranger yesterday who told me several ways that he works out dilligently and takes care of himself that he does so because he wants to live and is lucky to have had the chance to live.

Duh.

And so last night, I went out for a run. And I laughed the entire time.

Until tomorrow.