The other day I was feeling particularly stuck on a post I was writing…I just couldn’t find the right words. I reached out to a friend (looking to commiserate) and asked if he ever struggled with writer’s block.
His response: honestly, not really. Once in a while, for a few minutes, but rarely. Lots of practice. He then asked if I had heard of the 10,000-hour rule (I had).
10,000 hours is the minimum amount of practice required to become an expert in something.
I am working my way towards that milestone one post at a time but I am not there yet. Closer, sure…but not yet close.
Feeling tangled, choosing weird words, over-complicating, under-punctuating It’s all part of the process… After all, I’m still learning. There is freedom in that.
This is me at 4000 posts. This is me becoming a writer.
Hi all. Sorry things were so quiet in this corner last week. Life was busy. I went on my first post-hazel business trip. Dallas. I missed her a bunch but there was a small part of me that seriously enjoyed a quiet night away…a night for reading and room-service. Simon did a great job holding things down on the homefront and even sent over a fantastic number of daddy/daughter photo & video texts. That helped!
This weekend Hazel discovered that when she clears her throat it gets our attention….so she kept letting out these series of fake coughs and looking to see if we noticed. And then we would all laugh. This bit made my day!
I met cary randolph at dose market on sunday. Not that this should surprise absolutely anyone…but Cary is a very cool girl. Sharing a table at the back of river east art center was great way to spend our afternoon. And Hazel didn’t want to leave her lap. (more about dose in a bit)
I have been tweeting a little bit more. If so inclined, you are welcome to follow me here.
Notre Dame played at 11am on saturday making it the first game not to conflict with Hazel’s sleep schedule…so it was our little girl’s first proper “game day!” We blared the fight song from our record player and the fam & some friends came over to watch the irish win a rather boring match-up. Simon made ceviche. Hazel wore an ND sweatband. I couldn’t ask for more.
I love my job. I am busy again and my days have been flying by.
Somewhat related…i feel like we hit the nanny jackpot. Our Nanny has been such a great addition to the team. Hazel adores her and I am so thankful for the care and affection she gives to my girl. They take daily field trips and send photos from their destination: children’s museum, farmers markets, parks.
I am really looking forward to marathon weekend. There will be a whole slew of my favorite tumblrs from around the country coming in and I can’t wait to see everyone. If you will be here for race day, let me know….I am planning a sort of tumblr cheer squad at mile 3 + 11.
What should Hazel be for Halloween?
This post was sort of lame. I apologize…but I just wanted catch you up on the goings on in my life & head. gn all. xo
We closed out our “parent weekend” by heading over to Tabor Hill Winery for a celebration bunch.
We drove through the michigan countryside as we made our way to the winery and I have to admit…I felt a million miles away from the midwest. The whole things was supringly romantic
But I wasn’t the only big fan.
Hazel thought Tabor Hill was absolutely terrific (urban babies love vineyards?). After a pretty spectacular meal, we retreated to the terrace and enjoyed the some live music. My daughter was delighted by the sounds of the guitar and the chance to show-off her rhythmic footstomps (a precursor to dancing, perhaps) to the grandparents.
We spent quite a while out there
and when we climbed into the car to head back to the city, I got a little choked-up. I didn’t want our weekend to end….
I wanted just a few more hours looking over the vines and at my girl.
“Choose Life over the other stuff. Get out of your head. Live. Dress up. Eat. Touch people. Help out. Give up. Love people. Give your best away. There’s more. What’s the problem? Relax. You’re going to die. Throw a party. Eat off my plate. Sing to me. Meet me in the bedroom. Get a massage. Give one. Let your amazement out into the room. Pry open the box you hide your joy in. Be a poem.”—my friend, John Patrick Shanley
I got tied up at work last night…a pretty neat last-minute project that needed my attention. I was excited to help, but there was no way I was going to make it home in time to relieve our nanny.
A pleading ping to my husband <simon is typing> "No problem. I’ve got it babe." teamwork.
I finished my work with the focus and efficiency of a new mama anxious to see her baby then walked quickly home down State Street Maybe it was the chorus of bells coming from Holy Name or perhaps I was just lost in my thoughts (of beyonce + chef achatz. not together, mind you) but I nearly missed a call from my brother. 4 rings and a mad scramble to answer. Hey. Can I come over and hang with my niece? Of course.
Henry met me on the corner and kept me company for the remainder of my walk. We made it home by 6…which gave us exactly 55 minutes before Hazel would be down for the night. A condensed cycle of Playtime, Dinnertime, Bathtime, Storytime (not ideal, but you make it work)
I prepared her dinner (smashed-carrots and peach puree w cinnamon. big girl food) while haze and hen played. Squeals of delight filled our apartment along with a golden glow c/o our due-west exposure.
As I watched my girl inspect her uncle henry then cuddle warmly into his lap I couldn’t help but think about the most common bit of advice I’ve received from other working moms: count the quality of your moments together rather than quantity of your minutes. I am beginning to understand what they mean.
"…….we believe we are not making a difference. But making a difference is really about the way you show up in the world every day. In fact, know it or not, like it or not, you’re already making a difference by your presence. It may be a good difference or a bad difference, a large difference or a small difference, but you had an effect on everyone who saw you, felt you, or heard you today. So the question is not whether you can make a difference, but what kind of difference are you making?"