San Francisco Poem

Sometimes I think living in San Francisco is a study in variations on being cold. It is easy to loose count.

In the late summer it is cold only in its lack of being hot.

In fall the days might be sunny and hot, but the mornings and evenings are precursors to the almost cold winter to come.

In winter it is cool, but it is colder in the surrounding areas, the degrees decrease at a rapid clip as you drive eastward, the reverse of the thermometer climbing in summer when you desperately wind your way out of the swirling, foggy mess.

Spring has some warm days, but the word damp comes to mind.

Late spring early summer is your best chance of being warm in this city; you can go around all day thinking the weather is oh so nice and that summer is around the corner, until you step onto a BART train importing sweltering heat from the delta. It is at this moment you realize you were just variation number 48 of being cold.

Nursing or breastfeeding?

Any preferences on terms?  There is something about the term “nursing” I prefer so I have started to use it more often.  I felt a lot of pressure to “breastfeed”, but somehow when I thought of it as nursing it seemed more informal, more relaxed, less my child’s health hangs in the balance.  Anyone else have reactions to these terms?

Cheryl Strayed

I am reading both Tiny Beautiful Things: Advice on love and live from Dear Sugar and the Freud Jung Letters at the same time.  They are remarkably similar, or at least they compliment one another in a strange way.  In one of her letters she responds to a young lady who thought she would have written more by the time she was in her late twenties.  Ms. Strayed ends her piece with this, “So write, Elissa Bassist. Not like a girl. Not like a boy.  Write like a motherfucker.”

our twenties were hard too

I have written a lot about work life balance on this blog and probably will write about it more in future posts.  It is an important issue.  Some days in my life it feels like the only important issue.  I have also alluded to how life was not easy before the baby came either.  I will expand on that here.

There is a solid argument to be made that it is harder to be a single twenty something with a proper full-time office job than a fully employed mom (with a partner).  Granted there might be exceptions, for instance if your child were sick a lot or had lots of allergies or if you were a twenty something who didn’t drink or go out.  But for me at least it was harder to work an office job full-time in my twenties than it is for me now.

I am pretty sure that there was a period of two years in my twenties where I started drinking at 6:00 pm and went to bed at 3:00 am three or four nights a week.  There were men and heartaches to keep track of, art openings to attend, concerts that started at 10:00 pm on Tuesday nights.  Carson care to comment?  All of this and I still needed to be at work in the morning.

For a while I worked at a law firm in Seattle and had to be at work at 8:30 am.  An attorney I would sometimes hang out with would start dinner by ordering cocktails AND a bottle of wine.  We always drank it all, but there I was 8:30 every morning showered, hung over and ready to work.

The night before I met the future father of my child/ren I was out for a friends birthday party, made an ill advised drive down the peninsula at 2:00 am to a man’s bed I was never going to be truly welcomed in.  The next morning I was out at a house in Marin working on a remodel.  That night it was said friends 30th birthday party so despite being bone tired I pulled myself together and attended.  Being single and looking for a partner is hard work.  I was exhausted but, who knew who I might meet? For me it paid off on this particular night.  After years of parties, dates and failed attempts I met my to be husband around 10:00 pm and I dropped him off at his house at 3:00am only to wake up to be at work shortly after the sun came up.

Being a mom with a baby and a full time job is a horse of a different color entirely.  It is exhausting as all hell. It is a lot of work to juggle the nannies, the food for the baby, the house and be at my office by 9:00 am five days a week.  When one of us is sick it is a monumental effort to keep everything running, but something I had never considered is the motivation of being a provider and the deterrent of having to take the baby to the park (see, the park: why I should like it and why I don’t).  These are both things that get me out the door in the morning after a long night with a crying baby.

However the one place that parents win over serious partiers in their twenties is the emotional exhaustion.  Here there is no comparison.  Being a parent wins every time.  You are both legally responsible for and more in love with a person than you have ever been in your life and yet because you are now in our late thirties you know that you live in an uncertain world with no guarantees.

Still although I argue that singles in their twenties have a good argument for how their life is more difficult than mine, the baby is a trump card on excuses.  For instance in this scenario:  Your single friend calls you at 9:00 pm on a Saturday night.  Hi, what is that?  You want me to meet you at the bar downstairs from my apartment?   You already bought me a beer you say?  It is sitting on the bar?  Pilsner Urqel? Hmmm, yeah, no I am already in my pajamas and I have a_BABY.