When I first started working for the baby store, I was shocked to find out that, company-wide, we had our annual inventory during the first weeks of December. This is pretty much unheard-of in the retail world to which I was accustomed. But the baby stores tend to slow down over the holiday months. Significantly. And not just because of a bad economy.

So we’ve been spending a lot of our paid hours preparing for the upcoming inventory. We’re getting really low on stock, but appearance-wise, the store looks really good. The receiving and storage areas are especially impressive in their organization.

The good thing about inventory preparation is that there is always something to do. A project that doesn’t require too much thinking or planning, usually something repetitive. Which is good for someone who’s been in kind of a funky mood, and has been entertaining strangely ambiguous feelings about her job and general direction in life. The other bonus, besides not having to use too much of my brain during these hours, is the fact that there are more hours available to work. I can stay later or come in on days off. Make up some of the time I’ve missed in the last couple weeks, some of the time (like Thursday when the store’s closed) I’m going to miss coming up.

I still like my job, but the customer service aspect isn’t appealing to me as much at the moment as the mindless tasks that need to be completed. Like everything, our preferences change, sometimes with the season, sometimes with the weather, sometimes for no reason at all. I’m sure that once I manage to pick myself out of my current funk, I’ll be back to helping people buy and register for so much useless crap with my usual perky smile and optimistic outlook on everything.

Like fresh brownies.

My hubby loves me. He’s the coolest. I’m going to spend some time with him now instead of hanging online because I worked all day, and now I’m home. And he’s right there. And did I mention there are brownies?

I hadn’t had Raisin Bran in awhile, so last time I saw it at Costco, I picked up a giant box. I enjoy the cereal. But sometimes, I find the raisins themselves to be a little bit obnoxious. I think two scoops might be too many.

James thinks I’m insane. Because I prefer the bran part to the raisin part. Which not to say that I dislike any amount of raisin in my bran, because there are certainly alternative cereals to choose, were that the case. I just prefer my raisins to enhance my bran experience. Not overpower it.

There are other things on my mind today, but with the lack of sleep last night, I’m not really in the mood to go too deep today.

So I flew home with the boy this morning. I am amazed by him. He threw a fit in line for security at the airport, which actually got us through a lot faster because of the kindness of the TSA crew member, who even went so far as to carry my backpack and roll my suitcase all the way to our gate for us. But other than that one meltdown, he was the perfect passenger. He read his book, ate some cookies, drank his juice, colored his coloring book and made notes in his journal. He sat quietly and still enough that I was even able to read some of my own book. He barely seemed to notice the pressure changes, and was a perfect gentleman to all our fellow passengers.

I guess I thought that flying would get more difficult once I couldn’t hold my baby on my lap anymore. But it has been much easier than anticipated. He’s just a very easy-going kid, for which I am truly grateful.

Daddy picked us up from the airport, and when M saw him, he screamed and cried and clung to my leg. Poor James! He missed us so much, and then he got a greeting like that. M fell asleep on the drive home, and then failed to continue to sleep once he was deposited into his own bed. So James got a little bit better quality of time with him before he then had to go to work.

So now we’re back to the grind. James closes tonight, opens tomorrow, I close tomorrow, work most of the day on Thursday. And so on.

I miss having people around to talk to during my downtime. Even if we were just watching TV or on our computers, it was nice to be in the company of my parents and my husband’s parents. I seem to miss them more this time than other times I’ve been on the exact same road. Maybe it’s because James had to work tonight and M went to sleep super early due to his lack of sleep this afternoon, so I’m by myself a little longer. Maybe it’s because we just lost a member of our family, and I’m more acutely aware of the whole mortality thing. Maybe it’s just that time of the year, or that time of the month. Either way, I’m looking forward to January already.

I have a problem. I like books. I like books a lot. I tend to buy them. Or at least, in my past life of random spending because I felt like it, I bought books a lot. I still have lots left over from high school, college, and other random phases in my young adult life.

Now, for me, for my reading pleasure, I go to the library. I believe that I have been freed from my bondage to books. I don’t have to own a book to connect to a book. I can read a book and return it to a home that is not mine. That doesn’t clutter my shelves or my life. I’ve even gone so far as to get rid of some of my books.

However, the latest outlet for my book lust has become the children’s section. Fortunately, I do most of my shopping at the thrift store these days, and books there run about $0.60 apiece. Sometimes even less. This is how I’ve acquired a decent collection for my boy. Curious George is the current favorite, but we’ve ended up with a lot of great books, some of which are longer and more involved than a 2-year-old can fully appreciate, but that I hope will become favorites for him, since they appeal so much to me.

So I went to my usual spot this afternoon while M napped at home with my mom. Half Price Books has been a place at which I’ve felt at home since high school. There are always interesting finds and good deals to be had. I then stopped at the Goodwill store to check out their bookshelves.

I came home empty-handed. Well, except for a free copy of The Onion. Which is not to say that I didn’t find anything good. But I managed to beat both my own addiction and my addiction to providing picture books for M. I didn’t spend a dime, and I don’t have to haul any new used books back home to Virginia tomorrow.

The coolest thing I found was at the Goodwill store. It was a 1963 edition of The Womanly Art of Breastfeeding. I was beyond tempted, because reading through some of the chapters, I found it amusingly old-fashioned. But at the same time it discussed breastfeeding and parenting issues that haven’t really changed so much at all in almost half a century. It would have made a great addition to my personal bookshelf. Maybe another time.

This is not the best economic climate to be contemplating a new career. Nonetheless, it is this very climate that is finally inspiring me to step in a direction that may lead me to choose one.

I left my job at the Chamber because I had a baby and wanted to be with him when he was helpless and dependent, brand new and changing daily. I wanted this as much for myself as for his well-being. I am glad that I was able to stay with him, though it did require quite a bit of sacrifice, from which we are still recovering in many ways. My job was a job. It paid well enough, and I liked the job and the people a lot, but it wasn’t a career. And it wasn’t love. I haven’t found that passion yet, and I’ve been a member of the full-time workforce for almost a decade.

I suppose some people never find it. My mother-in-law was telling me just the other day how she never found it, though my father-in-law did. He’s one of those people who looks forward to going to work. He smiles to start his day and genuinely enjoys his job. My own mother has it. Her physically demanding job is getting more difficult for her to do as her body ages, but she still enjoys spending her days working.

My husband hasn’t found it. Though he’s always seemed to know where to look, or at least in what direction. The sad part has been how unattainable his goals turned out to be. But some days he can make the best of his current position. Other days, it’s not so easy.

We spend the majority of our lives working to earn a paycheck. To support our lifestyles, or at the very least, put food on the table, clothes on our backs, a roof over our heads. It seems like a pretty big sacrifice of our time to do work that does not fulfill us.

I do love my job at the baby store. I like the customers, and I often feel like I am helping them make good decisions for themselves, their children and families. Even if it’s just a minor thing like what kind of bottle to choose. But I am just an associate. And I can’t make a career out of an hourly job that might give me another $0.20 an hour each year I work there. And I don’t want a promotion. I’ve been a supervisor before in a retail environment, and I’m really not interested in climbing that ladder again.

So I’ve been cruising the websites, checking out what kind of jobs are even out there right now. Seeing if there are any that speak to me. I’ve got my masters degree in a subject that tends to draw potential teachers into the university system. But I’ve never really had an interest in becoming a professor. I considered teaching high school once, but I don’t think that’s for me, either. Not to mention my lack of qualifications and experience in that field.

The writing or editing positions seem to all require more experience than I have, but even if there was something entry-level out there, part of the reason I left my other office job was the tedium of having to stare at a computer screen all day. I like personal interaction.

There’s customer service. But most of those jobs are retail-oriented.

The job category that’s been sitting in my head since I started randomly poking around the web, though, is kind of teaching related. Since having M, I’ve come to realize how much I enjoy spending time with babies and little kids. And though I’ve thought of this at other times in my life, now might be the time to start working toward becoming a preschool instructor or childcare provider. I think I’d like to work in a structured setting like a classroom, but I also think it would be fun to be around even younger babies all day. So I applied for one childcare job, an entry-level position that doesn’t require certifications or a whole lot of experience. I think I probably won’t get that particular position, but filling out the application really brought the idea into focus for me. So much so that I might work toward building a resume more suited to this type of career path.

I can’t invest a whole lot of my current resources in pursuing this change, but that doesn’t mean the timing isn’t right. I’ve invested a lot of my energy in the past to supporting my husband’s job search, and then to my son, that it’s been awhile since I really thought about what I should do with my life. I’m still mostly in the thinking stages, but the ideas in my head seem promising.

I’ve spent a lot of my time in Milwaukee thinking. A death in the family will do that to you. And taking the time to observe other family members and how they interact with each other leads me to ponder the relationships we are so lucky to have.

At Grandma’s funeral service, her sister spoke about how their family was so rich in love, if not always in money. That the stuff we get preoccupied with acquiring is not what really matters. Especially in the end. In the end, it’s not what we leave behind that matters, but whom, and how we have improved their lives by being part of them. A part of them that they will carry on with them and pass down through the years.

The only reason that money is a problem is because we think it is. We think we need more to have more. Yeah, we’ve got to pay our debts, keep a roof over our heads, clothes on our backs and food in our bellies, but I’m thinking there might be ways we can do with less of the other stuff.

We are burdened by debt, by lack of income and increasing expenses because we have assigned a greater meaning to it by thinking we need whatever it was that we had to pay for. That we continue to pay for. If I can change my thinking, and perhaps even help my husband to change his own just a little bit, we might be able to find a way to be more content with the possessions we choose to keep, with what we might have to give up in order to stretch our meager dollars, and end up living a richer life in the process.

There are a lot of thoughts in my head this week. Goals I have when I get back to my Virginia life. I want to lighten my load and, with the right thinking, increase the fortune that we don’t always remember we already have.

M is getting really great at dancing. He waves his arms around and gets his legs into it. Sometimes even does a little shuffle around the room. I love his moves. And I take every opportunity to play music and encourage him. I’ve been dancing a lot lately. It’s good for the body. Good for the soul. And I dance because my little man is there smiling at me and grooving right along. He likes Weezer and The Animals a lot.

Are there any of your favorite bands out there that your toddlers also dig?

I started writing this post awhile ago. What better time to finish it up than Nablopomo? Since I need to keep the post count going even when I may not have access to the blog from Wisconsin. So here we go.

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Again I have found myself dwelling on a conversation begun at work. And frankly, I’m a little bit surprised that the topic hadn’t come up sooner, considering the type of business we do.

Two of my coworkers were paging through one of the freebie magazines that’s included with our registry goodie bag. They were cooing over pictures of cute baby faces and adorable baby bottoms. One of them flipped the page and commented, with a touch of disgust, “Oh, that’s just like what we saw over in the glider section the other day. ” One of them used the word “nasty” as they discussed the inappropriate behavior of this particular customer.

The photo was a mother nursing her infant. The woman (or women) that had been in the store had apparently not been considerate enough to hide her body or her baby as they breastfed.

I responded with one word. “So?”

They both looked at each other, then back at me like, “Eww, she’s one of them.”

One of the things that bothered me from this exchange, and the heated (and not so civil) debate that followed, was that these attacks on a mother’s right to nurse her child anywhere and anytime her baby needs to be fed were coming from two other women. One of whom is a mother herself.

It often happens when I am confronted and placed in a defensive position that I am unable to articulate my thoughts to my own satisfaction. While it would be nice to speak in such a way that might change a mind, most of the time, I know that certain issues involve minds that are not going to be so open to change. I don’t expect to change a mind. If I do, it’s gravy. I just like to have the chance to form my arguments and say my piece.

Unfortunately, when you get into a two-against-one scenario like this, usually the two will gang up on the one, feeling superior because another person in the conversation has validated their position, regardless of right or wrong.

Of course, I believe I am right on this issue. And my validation comes from the fact that the law happens to be on my side. That’s a pretty big check mark in my favor.

But since I didn’t really get to finish my argument to my coworkers, I wanted to get it off my chest. Thank goodness I have a blog in which to do just such a thing.

When I said, “So?” I was truly curious what the big deal was to them. They both have seen breasts before. One of them had nursed babies. They both believe that breastmilk is the best food for babies (to the best of my knowledge). Why take offense if a mother is doing the best thing for her baby and refuses to be ashamed of her body while allowing it to carry out its duty?

Their answer was that feeding a baby is a time for bonding and intimacy. That it is a private moment to be shared only within the family unit.

I get that. Bonding is important. But bonding does not always happen in private because bonding includes more aspects of parenthood than feeding alone. And I think that it’s also important for a mother not to feel isolated from society just because she happens to be her baby’s only source of nourishment or comfort. Social interaction on every continent and in every country around the world includes the sharing of meals. Eating, while it does not always have to be, is often a social activity. My family, specifically, has been known to plan entire vacations and visits around meals. It’s what we do. So why should we isolate our newest members of society because they need to eat? But not when they merely need to be fed, specifically, when they need to receive their primary nourishment from their mother’s breast. Bottle fed babies are not isolated or covered up, though to some people, bottles may be just as offensive.

True, we aren’t supposed to express our outrage that a baby is getting nourishment from chemically altered cow’s milk delivered by artificial plastic nipples. Because we don’t know that family’s situation. Now, I understand why some people may not breastfeed. I have very good friends and family members that chose not to or weaned early. My problem is not with the individuals who are only trying to do what is best for their families. My problem is this attitude from society that puts breastfeeding, the ideal way for a baby to eat (according to any medical research you can find and even printed all over formula labels and literature), behind closed doors and gives formula, the fourth best way to feed babies, this undeserved elevated status. It’s no wonder that our country’s breastfeeding rates are so sad. We never see it, so we don’t know how to do it.

“So why don’t you take off your shirt right now.”

I have no problem showing my body. In the right context, nudity is empowering and appropriate. The reason that bare breasts are so taboo is another issue I have with how we perceive each other in our culture. When they’re sexualized, they’re fine. When they’re functional, they’re obscene. But that’s another rant for another day.

“It’s like sucking on a guy’s dick.”

You know that it would be totally acceptable to do that in public if men ejaculated three square meals a day and healthy between meal snacks. Because men influence the women of society. So womeon are put into a closet if they’re using their bodies in a way that doesn’t strictly adhere to an outdated puritanical ideal.

These comments totally caught me off guard. Not only because of the people and place, but also because of just how ridiculous they sounded. Are we not more enlightened than that? Breastfeeding is a beautiful and incredible act. It is the ultimate offering of part of yourself to another person. Women are able to give life and sustain it with their bodies, even after they birth their babies. I honestly don’t understand why it is so horrifying to some people, and how we let those people allow us to get on the defensive about this. If anything, nature has proven its benefets to us time and again. Even people who are moving away from more processed materials like plastics, pesticides and polyesters toward more organic foods and clothing still don’t think much, if anything, about the consequences of making a choice like bottles and formula (or disposable diapers, for that matter, but I digress). Not only the consequences to the health of their babies, but the consequences to nursing mothers in America, or the mothers that want to nurse but fail because of societal pressures like this.

It just makes me so sad. Sad for the mothers who might not have given up on breastfeeding had their environment been a more supportive one. Sad for the babies who end up at higher risk for various problems in life that might have been avoided if they’d been fed the way nature intended. Sad for the people who have no idea that their attitudes of hate only make things worse for everyone. Just sad.

But I know that I have done and continue to do right by my child. With his family history, there was no way I was going to stop nursing him before we were both ready, before I was fully confident that I had given him all he needed from me. Yes, he’s two years old. Yes I still nurse him one to three times a day. But I believe in my heart this is what he needs, that it’s my job to provide this for him for as long as it works for us. When he was younger, I fed him anywhere, and rarely went out of my way to hide myself or cover up. He wouldn’t tolerate it, and I didn’t feel ashamed. And I’ll do it for any other babies I am lucky enough to have. And I’ll encourage everyone who wants to nurse their babies to do it for as long as they need to, to be proud of what they’re doing, to find power and strength in their bodies’ abilities to nourish, to mother. If we can be confident in our choices, we can change minds and attidudes and even society at large over time.

The diapers are in the wash. Dishes are done. And James and I are trying to watch the whole Star Trek movie while M takes his nap.

Thanks to the generosity of family, we’re taking an evening flight to Milwaukee today. It’s going to be a whirlwind. And this trip, originally to attend Grandma’s funeral, has now turned into nearly a week’s  vacation for me and the kid. I’m glad about that, in some ways, but it also feels kind of weird.

So I’ll be hanging out in Milwaukee through Tuesday morning now. Though James has to return home on Friday. I will miss him, but it will be good for all of us to spend some time with family.

So now, I’m going to pack up the laptop and see if we make it to the end of the movie. To those of you local to my destination, I will see many of you soon.

So my computer has been obsessively bothering me about my low disk space. So I deleted a bunch of large picture files (making sure they were all on my external storage device, too, of course). I went through my programs to change/remove the stuff that’s rarely used. I think I freed up a good chunk of space. But there are programs that are still hanging around that I have no idea how to uninstall. Because if they were nice, they’d offer up an “uninstall” option from the programs menu. Nope. Not nice programs.

I don’t use much on the computer. I have Adobe CS3, which certainly takes up more than its fair share of disk space. I have MS Office from 2003, which is also somewhat large. I have Firefox to browse the Internets, and a few other random Windows accoutrements that come in handy for viewing pictures and extracting files, but really, I don’t need a lot. So where does all my disk space go? And how can I fix it better?

The thing is, one of the times that I went on a deleting spree in the past, I accidently must have deleted a program or driver or something that allows my laptop to play DVDs. Which was one feature that as my kid got older, I was sure would come in handy on long drives or flights. But then for no reason, DVDs don’t work anymore. Okay, maybe not “for no reason,” but really, I would think that a program that I actually used would ring enough of a bell that would make me think twice about tossing it into the old recycle bin.

So, in conclusion, I have two questions:

1. How do you clean up a hard drive and really, truly delete all those stupid programs that you don’t use or need anymore?
2. How can I get my laptop to play DVDs again? Can I download something from Microsoft or HP to fix whatever I broke? Is there free software or drivers I can get somewhere? Or do I have to pay for something? And will it take up so much space on my hard drive that I’ll have to run the “disk cleanup” every ten minutes again for the rest of my computer’s life?

I was reviewing my clothing options for Thursday’s funeral and landed on a dress I’ve worn to two weddings and a baptism. When I was considering my footwear, I realized that I didn’t have anything appropriate for fall, though I did manage to find some stockings. I never wear stockings. And the word itself even feels a little strange in my mouth and rolling around in my head.

Anyway, a fall funeral seems to require stockings. And shoes that are a little more closed than I am used to wearing. My dress shoes all seem to be sandal-like. Because the open-foot look distracts from the fact that the heel is either super low or nonexistent.

So I went to the thrift store this morning to look for a pair of low-heeled, closed-toed shoes that would go with my dress.

I found some red ones. They’re a little shiny, and one of the heels is scuffed, but they’re me, even if the heel is a little higher than I would normally prefer. I think they’re appropriate, but still me. And now I have a pair of dress shoes to wear with pretty much every dress in my closet, for under $5.

Yeah, the price tag was pretty much what sold me, even though they may not be the most comfortable shoes I’ll ever own. What can I say, I just freaked out at my bank account because I thought I wouldn’t have enough money in there to cover the pending mortgage payment, so I switched around the dates on some other bills only to realize that the mortgage payment went through on Friday, so in reality, there’s plenty of money in there to cover the pending bills, and maybe even a little extra to help us on our journey “home” this week.

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Edited to add: M thinks they’re cool, too.

 

Grandma passed away last night. It was quick, and she was comfortable and among family.

We leave for Wisconsin on Tuesday. The funeral is Thursday. We have a lot to do.

If anyone is reading this and knows a good way to make more money or spend less, I’m all ears. I’m working almost as many hours as is physically possible, though maybe there’s a way to work more. There are no freelance gigs coming in. And we’re going over budget every month.

This is the thing on my mind. The reason I don’t mind if the bosses keep us late closing the store. Even an extra five or ten minutes makes a difference on the paycheck, if only a tiny one. This is why I’m looking everywhere for answers. Talking about ways to make our lives different. Applying for new jobs myself. Thinking about what I can do to pinch another penny.

We can’t afford our debt. And if we pay our debt, we can’t afford to fill our cars or our bellies without adding more to our debt. It’s not by that much each month, but it all adds up. Keeps adding up. And then root canals, prescriptions. I put off seeing a doctor for a couple of minor issues I’ve had going on because they’re not urgent enough to warrant spending the $25 co-pay.

So I’m on Craigslist looking for anything that catches my eye. I’m reading paid emails and filling out surveys for a few cents a pop. I’m talking again with my manager about how to get more hours. Maybe I can work a double shift on Thursdays, come in earlier than opening on the days I open. Add another day, another couple hours.

Anyone have meal plans? Recipes with few and cheap ingredients? Ideas on how to make another dollar? I’ll take any advice. Because with student loans in deferment and an interest-only mortgage that’s not going to be interest-only forever, the future doesn’t look much better from where I’m sitting right now.

James’ grandmother is in hospice care. Yeah, kind of a heavy topic for a Friday night, but here we go.

She’s been fighting cancer for some time. It’s finally taken its toll on her old body. And it’s been a rough time for her family. For my husband’s family. And for us. Not being there.

We’ve been busy with our respective jobs and raising a kid and what-not. But the whole time, this is there. This dying. This passing. And it’s not easy. She’s our last grandparent.

I started writing tonight wanting to say something about how life is short. Even when it’s long. I wanted to say that I hope everyone makes amends before she’s gone. I’m not sure how to say what’s in my head or in my heart. I’ve been lucky enough not to have a lot of experience with death. It is still unfamiliar territory.

So maybe I’ll have something better to say on another day. Right now it’s just another waiting game. It could be days, weeks, even months. But we’re on notice. Because we’ll go back for the funeral. It’s hard to wait for death. To feel so helpless to do anything from so far away while she still lives.

I don’t feel like myself. I’m not writing like myself. It’s getting late. I worked this afternoon. I had a great time playing with my son when we got home. Life is good, could be better, but we have love. We have lots of that.

And this wasn’t what I wanted to say at all.