I’m not sure if it’s a consequence of parenthood, or the quarantine, or both – but I’ve noticed that I am appreciating certain things a lot more now than I ever did. Like right now, everybody in the apartment is asleep except for me, and it’s deliciously quiet, just me and the dishwasher humming along. I know it won’t last terribly long so I am really savoring it. I don’t really have “empty” time anymore, and I used to have a lot of it, especially when I was pregnant, and *especially* when I was pregnant and not doing any Wag walks. “Do nothing but fuck around on your phone” kind of empty time, doing that endless Facebook-Instagram-Twitter loop. When I have free time now, it’s so precious that I actually take a minute or two and literally think about how pleasant the moment is and how nice the quiet is, and that’s something I never really did before. Maybe this is what they call mindfulness? I don’t love that word, but it is truly beneficial to my mental health to spend time actually noticing when I’m happy…if that makes sense…and I think I’ve gotten better at noticing it while still in the moment. It’s like that Kurt Vonnegut quote:
“And I urge you to please notice when you are happy, and exclaim or murmur or think at some point, ‘If this isn’t nice, I don’t know what is’.”
Example two: last night I was holding Ashwin, trying to put him to sleep, which he of course was resisting with all his little might, and V came in and enveloped both of us in a big hug as we rocked back and forth. Lullaby music was playing from the bassinet and it was just a beautiful “we’re a family” Hallmark kind of moment. He and I were our own family before we had a baby, but now that we share this monumental and awesome task of raising a little human, I feel even more like we are a team, our own unit.
I’m hardly on Twitter at all anymore and God, is it glorious. I don’t know why it took a global pandemic for me to realize that the never-ending doom-scrolling was taking a legit toll on my mind. Twitter has its uses but for now, for me, the negatives far outweigh the positives.
It’s also been pleasant to spend time thinking about our eventual return to Wisconsin. I’m sure if we were planning on staying in Seattle long-term, I could gradually form some sort of community here, but back in Madison I have not only my existing support network, but a greater capacity to find “mom friends” through the friends and connections I already have. It’s just next to impossible to do virtually (even though there are lots of online support groups, etc).
What I’m reading:
- Last finished “Good Moms Have Scary Thoughts” and definitely enjoyed the reassurances and normalizing of the postpartum period not being the happiest time of life. For some people I guess it really is magnificent and blissful but for others – I’d argue perhaps the majority – it’s fucking hard and full of doubt, uncertainty, and even rage. Any and every even slightly less-than-blissful new mom should read it.
What I’m watching:
- Little Fires Everywhere is phenomenal. Reese Witherspoon really plays the same character that she plays in Big Little Lies, just set in the ’90s and wearing more skirt suits. She may definitely play a certain type, but no one can say she doesn’t do it masterfully.
- The Last Dance. It’s like a gift from the NBA gods, who saw us suffering in the absence of basketball and delivered a documentary on my childhood heroes. Allow me a short digression…
- As a kid (like, elementary and middle school) I loved basketball and I specifically loved the Chicago Bulls. The Milwaukee Bucks at the time weren’t anything to write home about and besides, the Bulls had Michael goddamn Jordan. I loved him. I watched every game I could on WGN and ESPN, often with my dad, who was deeply chagrined by my less ardent, but still significant fondness for Dennis Rodman. In 1997, I begged my dad to get a subscription to Sports Illustrated because they were running a promotion where you not only got a gift of this DVD along with a new subscription order, but you also got this SWEET ASS watch. I had to have them both and my wonderful daddy obliged. You guys, I still have that DVD. I don’t have the watch because the band eventually broke but you best believe I wore it to death while it lasted. So the point of this story is that I loved Michael Jordan and the Chicago Bulls more than any 11-year-old white girl from Wisconsin reasonably should and therefore, I am incredibly excited about The Last Dance and the first two episodes have not disappointed that 11-year-old girl who lives inside me.
- Still watching a couple episodes a day of Lost with V and the MIL. It’s funny how little I remember from the other TWO TIMES I’ve watched the entire series. V has a mind like a goddamn steel trap for TV shows and movies but with me, it’s like I forget it as soon as it’s over. Except 30 Rock. I’m never not watching 30 Rock long enough to forget any of it.
What I’m listening to:
- You can probably guess. OMGTHENEWFIONAAPPLEISFUCKINGAMAZING. Fetch the Bolt Cutters is a goddamn masterpiece and I’m obsessed with it. My favorite songs are the title track, Shameika, Under the Table, and Ladies. At least those are the ones that get stuck in my head the most. Bless Fiona for releasing this beautiful music while we are all cooped up and in need of joy. Granted, “joy” and “Fiona Apple” aren’t words that normally go together but if you’re as big a fan as I am, you get it.
What I’m cooking baking:
- Oatmeal Raisinet cookies. Oats are allegedly supposed to increase breastmilk production, so I suppose we can pretend that’s why I made a double batch this week and probably will again in a few days. Hot tip: don’t use actual Raisinets. Use dark chocolate covered raisins from Trader Joe’s. WAY better.
What I’m annoyed about:
I will leave you with an Isis photo, because Ashwin gets all the social media love these days, and my girl still has the cutest bleps around.
Sconnie Molly 